by Loren, Roni
“A man?” Taryn said, a playful tone returning to her voice. “Like a real live human with a penis?”
Rebecca grinned. “Yes, there is definitely a penis.”
Taryn gasped. “Wait. You said that with full authority. You’ve already verified the presence of this penis, haven’t you?”
“I said no such thing. We’re only friends.”
“Liar. Rebecca Beatrice Lindt, you’re going to owe me all the details when we have dinner. Is it the hot C student? Please tell me it is. Kincaid told us she met him, and he was like whoa sexy.”
Rebecca laughed. “I have no idea what kind of grades he got, but he is a whoa sexy chef, so there’s that.”
“Hell yeah,” Taryn announced. “Damn, I’m jealous. Hot and will cook for you?”
“Yes. And my middle name is not Beatrice.”
She sniffed. “Of course it’s not. I give random old-lady middle names to people when I want to get their attention. It drives my students crazy.”
“Okay, Taryn Mildred Landry. We’re on for dinner later in the week.”
She laughed. “Deal. And you should send me a photo of this sexy chef so I can drool appropriately. Not his penis, of course. That’s for you. Upper half will do.”
“Mildred, you trollop,” Rebecca teased, putting the proper amount of affront in her voice.
“Hey, Mildred is stuck at a college with overgrown boys who are all too young for her and professors who could apply for Social Security. She needs to live vicariously.”
“You send the number of your shrink. I’ll send you a pic of my friend.”
“On it.”
Rebecca hung up the phone, and a minute later, Taryn sent the number. In response, Rebecca sent Taryn a completely naked picture of…Knight the dog.
Taryn responded with Bitch.
Rebecca laughed. Nope, Knight’s a boy.
Shut up, Beatrice.
Smooches, Mildred.
Rebecca tossed her phone to the side, feeling ten times lighter than she had a few minutes earlier. Action. That was what had always kept her on track. A problem comes up. Take action and fix it.
She tucked the police photos in her bag, scribbled down the number from Taryn and made a note to call, and then buzzed Marian to send in her first appointment of the day.
There. Done. Her dome with Wes would stay intact.
chapter
TWENTY
Wes spread the documents he’d been working on all morning across his desk. Permission slips. Rules. Possible business plans. His mind was plugged in and wired, all the possibilities making his blood pump.
This was going to happen. A restaurant.
Sure, it wasn’t going to be in the way he’d originally envisioned all those years ago. This wouldn’t be some fancy joint that would get a write-up in Food & Wine magazine or earn him special snowflake status in the culinary world, but he’d get to enjoy the process of creating a business out of nothing and teaching his students how to do the same. That was something. Maybe everything. He pulled a few more sheets from the printer and laid them on top of one of the stacks.
“Not too much preplanning,” he muttered to himself as he sorted things. “The kids need to take ownership in this project with me, make decisions as a team. But after the reveal, maybe we could do a brainstorming session first and then timelines and…”
A light tap on his door had him shutting his mouth and looking up. Rebecca was leaning against the doorjamb, red hair in a curling ponytail and a teasing smile on her face. “Talking to your imaginary friends?”
The sight of her had him inhaling a deep, satisfied breath. She’d made it. And damn, was he going to get that rush of desire every time he saw her now? He’d been attracted to her from the start, but this was different. Now that he knew what lay beneath those clothes, what her lips tasted like, what she sounded like when she lost control, he couldn’t keep his blood from heating and his body from moving toward her like a magnet to steel.
He’d been disappointed with their call earlier when she’d clammed up on him and lied about what had happened during her speech. He didn’t know exactly what had gone down at the brunch, but he knew it wasn’t because she’d skipped breakfast. She’d been somewhere else when he’d reached her onstage. Eyes wide and scared but not seeing what was in front of her. Haunted. He didn’t have to guess by what. But she didn’t want to talk about it with him yet.
As much as that had stung, he wasn’t going to push. Rebecca had been through things that made his childhood look like a trip to Disneyland. He had no idea how she’d managed to get up on that stage to talk about the shooting in the first place. His high school years had been marked with memories of skipping school, bad grades, and then eventually his uncle’s well-placed foot in his ass to get him back on track. Rebecca’s past was filled with trauma and violence and losses that Wes couldn’t fathom.
He didn’t blame her for not wanting to talk about it. They’d only agreed to have a good time together, to be casual friends. He wasn’t her boyfriend or confidant. He was a distraction, as she’d said.
So if she wanted a distraction, he would happily distract the hell out of her.
He stepped around the desk and smiled. “My imaginary friends always think my ideas are brilliant.” He tucked his hands in his pockets to keep from touching her since the kids would be flooding the hallway any minute. “I’m glad you could make it. I might’ve exploded if I couldn’t tell the group today.”
“Crisis averted.” She lifted a plastic bag she’d been carrying and held it out to him. “I looked for one of those giant ribbons so we could wrap it around Adele for the kids, but apparently giant bus-size ribbons are not readily available. So I figured this was the next best thing.”
Wes took the bag and peeked in. A pile of bright-yellow bandannas was stacked neatly inside.
“I figured we could use them to blindfold the kids when we bring them outside, and then they could use them to keep their hair back while cooking. That seems to be your preferred method.”
He looked up and grinned. “That’s a great idea. And people will definitely be able to see us coming.”
She plucked one out and waved it in front of him. “You’re Team School Bus. Of course they’re yellow.”
“We are Team School Bus. You’re not getting out of wearing one of these. But thank you.” He leaned in for a quick kiss without thinking about it. “I love them.”
She looked down. “Wes, I—”
Someone coughed and Wes, still in Rebecca’s space, straightened. Steven was a few steps behind Rebecca, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans and his gaze averted. “Uh, sorry, Chef G. I just wanted to check if I could go in the classroom early. I need to look up a recipe in a book you have.”
Wes frowned. “Aren’t you supposed to be in computer class?”
Rebecca stepped to Wes’s side to face Steven, too.
Steven looked warily at Rebecca and then finally met Wes’s eyes. “I don’t get that programming sh—stuff. I told Ms. Burton I wanted to work on my homework in the library.”
“But you want to dig around the cookbook collection,” Wes said, his eyes scanning Steven’s face, noting the patch of bluish purple near his temple, only partially hidden by his floppy hair.
Steven shrugged, a little sheepish. “I tried something over the weekend and…it didn’t go well. Burned something and stunk up the whole house. I wanted to check what I got wrong.”
Wes wanted to ask about the bruise but wouldn’t do it in front of Rebecca and risk embarrassing Steven. “Room’s open. But don’t turn on any kitchen equipment.”
“Got it,” he said with a look of relief. “Thanks.”
Rebecca was frowning deeply, watching Steven walk away, when Wes turned to face her.
“You okay?” he asked.
She chewed her lip, still watching the boy disappear down the hall. “You saw that mark on his head?”
Wes sighed. “Yeah, I’ll ask him about it later. He’ll say
he got in a fight.”
“You think that’s the truth?”
“I think it’s possible and hard to prove otherwise if he sticks to his story. He’s had a history of getting in scuffles. But like I told you before, I’ve met his father and was…unimpressed.”
She looked at Wes, a wrinkle between her brows. “Meaning?”
Wes squeezed his temples, weary. “I don’t know. At first I thought my aversion to him was from my not-too-positive history with law enforcement. But I think it’s more than that, because I’ve gotten to know a number of cops from working here and they’re great. It’s mostly a gut feeling with Wes’s father, but he reminds me a lot of my biological dad. Like what he’s showing us is a well-honed veneer. I think Steven’s got a lot going on that he’s not telling us.”
Rebecca worried the yellow bandanna between her fingers, her gaze sliding back toward the hallway. “You think he’s being abused?”
“I don’t know,” Wes said, able to share information now that Rebecca had gotten approved to be an official volunteer at the program. “I know there’s some depression there. A lot of anger and a rebellious streak. I just can’t figure out how much of a factor his home life is. A report was made to CPS last year, and nothing came out of the investigation. That doesn’t mean nothing’s happening, but I’m trying to build up enough trust with him so he’ll confide in me. The system can only do so much when it doesn’t have complete information.”
Rebecca looked at Wes, concern there. “Wes…”
He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “Come on, let’s not talk about this now. If you think too hard about any one of these kids’ situations, you’ll keep yourself up at night worrying about them. Believe me, I know.”
A sad expression crossed her face. “But doesn’t that make you feel so helpless?”
“Of course. But it doesn’t change the laws or procedures. The best thing we can do is what we’re doing,” he said, giving her the talk he often had to give himself. “We can be there for them in the time we get with them. Watch. Listen. Be available if they’re ready to talk. Set an example. Give them a little fun and respite from whatever they’re going through. Help them create some opportunities to better their situation.” He took her hand and brought it to his mouth to kiss her knuckles. “That’s what you’re doing for them by giving them Adele and by being here to help with the project. If I want Steven to open up to me, I have to be patient and build trust.”
She frowned. “Did I mention patience is not my favorite virtue?”
He smiled a slow smile. “That’s actually one of the things I like best about you. You’re all about the action, lawyer girl.” He waggled his eyebrows, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s come in handy so far. Random kissing the first night I met you. Basically seducing me yesterday after we decided to take things slow. Your lack of patience is paying off in great dividends for me.”
She gave him a wry look. “You make me sound like some sex-starved woman with an impulse-control problem.”
“Well, if the shoe fits…”
She punched him in the shoulder.
He laughed and grabbed her wrist, pulling her close, closer than he should at work, but the hallway outside his office was deserted. “Good thing I’m just as starved for you. You could’ve had me that first night if you’d asked. You inspire very loose morals in me.”
She bit her lip, her eyes dancing with laughter. “I wanted you that night, too. Even when I thought you were a cheating jackass with an anger problem. Clearly, we’re terrible for each other’s judgment.”
“Awful,” he agreed.
“The worst.”
“I should probably stop touching you right now because the abandoned closet off the music room is suddenly looking like a mighty fine destination to take you to. No one would hear us with all the racket coming from the room next door.”
She pressed her palm over his beating heart and smiled. “No time for making out in the closet. We have to go blow your students’ minds with a big, yellow school bus.”
Excitement bubbled up in his chest at the thought. “Yes we do. This is going to be such a blast.”
The bell rang, and he let go of Rebecca before the halls filled. But when he stepped into his classroom with her, knowing what they were about to announce, it took everything he had not to kiss her in front of everyone. The urge was strong and potent, watching Rebecca stand there, a secret smile on her lips as the kids made their way into the room. It was also dangerous, that swirling sense of rightness within him. Like he was exactly where he was supposed to be at that moment in time. The feeling was downright foreign.
But when they revealed Adele to the class fifteen minutes later, and he saw the looks on the kids’ faces as they removed the blindfolds, the emotion surged full and fast. And when a few of his students barreled into him with an enthusiastic group hug, he finally pinpointed what that feeling was. Happy.
He’d forgotten what that felt like, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt it quite like this. Rebecca had given this to him with no strings or ulterior motives. Here you go, Wes Garrett. Have a piece of your dream and a smart, beautiful woman to share it with.
It all felt a little too good to be true. He’d learned to be wary of that because the few tastes of it he’d had in his life had been quickly followed by the rug being yanked from under him. But he pushed the worry down for now. Right now, he was here. Right now, he was happy.
When all the kids hurried toward the bus to explore, Wes reached out and grabbed Rebecca’s hand, giving it a squeeze.
She smiled his way. “I think they approve.”
He wanted to say so much. To tell her how much richer this experience was with her there. To tell her that she had no idea what she’d really given these kids. Given him. But all he could manage was, “Thank you.”
*
Rebecca toweled off her wet hair as she padded barefoot to the guest bedroom to get a set of clean sheets. She and Wes had grabbed takeout after finishing up at the school for the day and headed to her place. Wes had been so excited in his boyishly pure way on the way home that the effect had been contagious. So much so that Rebecca hadn’t been able to bring herself to show him the police photos yet. She wanted this day to be protected—a perfect, happy memory. So she’d decided to put it out of her mind for the night. Enjoy the moment.
She had. They had barely gotten through dinner before ending up in bed. The buzz of seeing the project get started had been too much and had translated into an insatiable need to touch each other. And even though they’d still been filthy from the hard labor, they hadn’t had the patience to get cleaned up first.
The sex had been great. But her sheets were a loss.
She smiled to herself as she took a pile of folded sheets off the shelf in the guest closet. She’d never wanted someone so badly that she hadn’t cared about being a sweaty, dirty mess—or him being a sweaty, dirty mess. There was something freeing in that, primal. Not just acceptance of imperfection but embracing it, rolling around in it, and not giving a damn about anything but that person and that moment.
Rebecca clutched the sheets to her chest and listened to the old pipes creak in the wall as Wes showered. She hadn’t officially invited him to stay the night. They hadn’t done that yet, and it felt like a precarious move with the whole friendship thing. But they were both adults. Sharing a bed was just sleeping in the same space. It didn’t have to be a thing.
She sighed. Maybe it was a thing.
She left the guest bedroom, planning to change the sheets before making any further decisions, but the sound of a knock on her door broke her from her thoughts. She frowned and walked out into the living room, setting the sheets on the back of the couch and making sure her robe was tied. Another hard knock followed, and she glanced at the clock.
It was only eight, so maybe it was a package or something. None of her friends would stop by this late without calling. She headed to the door and peeked through the peephole, fi
nding a familiar face shining in the glow of the porch light.
“Rebecca, open up. I know you’re home,” her father called out.
She cursed and pressed her head to the door. She’d managed to avoid her father at work today, thereby avoiding any conversation about the brunch. She’d known it was a temporary stay of execution, but not this temporary.
There was no use in trying to avoid him, but she needed to get him out of here quickly. She cracked open the door. “Um, hey, Dad. It’s a little late—”
He stepped forward, not giving her an option not to back up, and walked in. “It’s not late. I just left work. I expected you to still be there, too. I had an event I needed to talk to you about.” He glanced at her. “But look at you. You’re already in pajamas. Must be nice.”
She stiffened and shut the door behind him. “I didn’t have anything on my schedule tonight. And after last week’s twelve-hour days, I figured I’d earned an early night.”
He strode into her living room and turned, arms crossed, not sitting down. “It seems you’re all about cutting out early these days. Like doing two words of a speech and leaving.”
Her teeth pressed together. “Dad—”
“You left me with a lot of questions to answer on your behalf. The people at the event were quite concerned. And disappointed not to hear your speech.”
She sat on the arm of the couch and sighed. “I’m sorry, Dad. It wasn’t my plan to make a fool of myself onstage, and I didn’t mean to leave you with cleanup duty. But I was in no condition to socialize afterward. I felt terrible.”
“Because you missed breakfast,” he said. “By this age, I would think you’d know how to feed yourself before a big event.”
“Feed my—Dad, I had a panic attack onstage,” she blurted out.
She glanced toward the hallway, but the pipes were still creaking. Wes was still in the shower.
Her father frowned like she’d spoken a language he didn’t understand. “A panic attack? You speak in front of people all the time. You’re a lawyer, for God’s sake.”
“I talk about law. About cases. About divorce,” she said, keeping her voice low. “It’s not the same. I can’t get up there and talk about Long Acre like that. You, of all people, should get why that’s so hard for me. You need to stop scheduling me for these types of events.”
