by Fiona Cole
She ordered a water and raised a brow when I ordered a beer. I raised one in return, waiting for her to say something. When she didn’t, I finally broke the silence.
“So, where’s your car? I remember you having one last time I was there.”
“I sold it for extra money to travel.”
“Makes sense.”
A small indent formed between her brows. “You think so?”
“Yeah, of course. I traveled after high school and didn’t have shit for money. I’d have sold a car if I had one, too.”
She laughed, her lips still somehow in a smirk. I knew she’d had a good life—good experiences, which didn’t always make a happy person. But part of me wondered if Arabella didn’t smile because her friends expected her to be cool and trendy over not really wanting to. I wasn’t that much older than her, but I still remembered the pressures of my peers, and that trend among people her age only increased over the more recent years. It was all about who you portrayed over who you really were.
Her personality screamed ‘fuck you,’ but it kind of felt like a veneer to keep people at a distance.
“Hell, there are days I still think about selling it, so I can travel more. But then I have my job teaching, so it might not go well.”
“What do you teach?”
“A few classes, but global economics is the big one. I also teach some basic economics classes, too.”
“Cool.”
This time the word didn’t grate on my nerves. She perked up and really meant it. She sat taller and brushed her hair back behind her ears, and for the first time, Arabella looked at me.
“What’s been your favorite place you’ve traveled?”
“Oh, boy.” I leaned back in the booth and mentally ran through fifteen years of travel, my focus faltering under the full weight of her attention. “Probably London or Scotland.”
“All of Scotland or a specific place?”
“I can’t pick a favorite place in Scotland. I won’t do it.” I crossed my arms and turned my nose up like a petulant child, and the earth moved.
Arabella laughed.
Her perfectly shaped pout parted into a perfectly shaped smile. Her head dropped back, and the pale length of her neck moved with the soft, happy sound that fell from her open mouth. It only lasted a moment, but it hit like a physical blow, creating a crack in my own facade, letting the truth trickle in.
I was fucked with this woman in my house.
Because she was a woman. Sitting before me, letting pieces of her true self slip free, she wasn’t just a girl. She was a woman, and that knowledge was dangerous.
“I worked at a shipping dock in a few places while I traveled Scotland,” she explained. “It was probably the cheapest place we went because of their open camping rules. We set up tents over staying in hotels or hostels.”
“I remember the few odd jobs I’d have. I was a bartender for a week in Paris. Didn’t know any French, but made it work.”
“I was a bartender in London for a month. With all the pubs, it seemed like the best option.”
“Do you plan on traveling more?” I asked.
“God, yes. I’d have never come home, but I needed help with money when my friend had to cancel. My parents said they’d cover what I was short if I agreed to college this year.”
“That helps explain the chip on your shoulder since you arrived.”
She tried to hide another soft laugh by dropping her head, letting her hair fall around her face. When she looked up, she cringed, her brown eyes peeking through the strands of her hair. “Sorry about that. I guess I can still be a bitch. “
“It’s okay. I can be a bitch too,” I joked, using a feminine voice.
It did the job, relieving any tension that formed from her talking about why she was there.
“Speaking of jobs. I need one.”
“There’s no rush. You just got here.”
“It’s the whole reason I’m here early. So I can get a job to start earning money to replace the car I sold.”
“What? Just so you can sell it again next summer?”
She shrugged, not denying it, making me laugh.
She looked side to side as if seeing the place for the first time. The slightly sticky wood floors, dim lights, hodge-podge of patrons, ranging from families with kids, to the stray college student, to old bikers at the bar.
“I’ll apply here.”
“Are they hiring?”
“Don’t know. Let’s find out,” she said, waggling her brows like my question was issued as a challenge. “Hey,” she called to a passing waiter. “You hiring?”
“I don’t think so.” He looked her up and down with a spark of interest. “But, let me go ask.”
And that was how I ended up walking home next to a gloating Arabella, freshly hired after not even having to fill out an application.
Damn, she was impressive.
And impressed by a woman wasn’t something I’d experienced in a long time. If ever.
Three
Arabella
“So, today is day five. How are you holding up?” my best friend, Felicity, asked.
I clutched the phone between my ear and shoulder and tied my Doc Martins. “It’s…not horrible. But I haven’t done much beyond one day of training for this job.”
“How’s living with Uncle Willem? Has he set a curfew yet?”
“He’s not my uncle.” Making the clarification didn’t do much to justify how wrong my attraction to him was. Uncle or not, I could list another ten reasons why fantasizing about him was not a good idea. “And it’s not bad. We had dinner that first night and honestly, I haven’t seen him much. He’s at the school or in his office for the most part.”
“Nice. Freedom all the way.”
“Yeah.” I did my best to sound excited, but I didn’t know if it was because Felicity was on the phone so far away or what, but loneliness hit me. “He seems cool, though. I wouldn’t mind seeing him now and then.”
“I mean, girl. I checked out his Instagram. Although a very limited selection, the man is fucking fine. I wouldn’t mind having him for dinner either. Good thing he’s not my uncle.”
“He’s not my uncle.”
“So you keep saying,” she teased.
“Shut up.”
“Will you tuck me in, Uncle Willem?” she mocked in a breathy voice.
“Oh, my god. I’d slap you if you were here,” I laughed.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I wish you were. Todd has a new fuck toy, and she’s annoying as hell.”
“Ew. Although I’m not surprised.”
When I let Todd know I was getting ready to leave again, he let me know he couldn’t keep holding out and broke it off. Honestly, I couldn’t have cared less. Sometimes, I’d been like my dad and forgot I even had a boyfriend when I hopped around Europe.
“Hope she likes giving blow jobs without receiving,” Felicity joked.
“Right?”
“Miss you, bitch,” Felicity said quietly.
“I miss you too. Plan to come see me soon?”
“For sure. Maybe Uncle Willem can pick me up from the airport for a quickie.”
“Gross.” I made gagging noises, making her laugh. “All right, perv. I’ve got to go to work.”
“All right. Look hot. Show the girls.”
“What girls?”
“Just because you’re not a D cup like me, doesn’t mean you don’t have anything to shake. Make yo money.”
“Will do.”
We said our goodbyes, and I headed out the door, wondering if I’d see Willem tonight when I got home. It’d probably be for the best if I didn’t.
The bar was a perfect place to work. They’re open lunch until late at night, so hours could be flexible when school started. Add in that I could walk, and it was everything I needed. My first day had only been two hours of training with Amber. Any nerves about my first full day eased when I walked in and saw her blonde ponytail swinging.<
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She got me set up serving a small section, letting me know that if the bar got busy to help out, but only with beer orders. Apparently, under twenty-one-year-olds couldn’t sell anything other than beer over the bar.
Halfway through my shift, we hit a lull, and she introduced me to another waitress, Gia, and the bartender, Xander. Gia looked like a replica of Amber, especially when they walked side by side and their white-blonde ponytails swayed in unison. Xander had been the guy who I’d stopped to ask about the job that first day, and he probably made a crap-ton of tips from the ladies, and men, at the bar. Hell, he wasn’t even serving me, and I wanted to tip him for providing eye-candy throughout the shift.
More than once, I found myself wondering how old he was and if I could fit both hands around his bicep. Another time or two, when he wandered out from behind the bar, I’d see if I could detect the bulge behind his jeans.
Unfortunately, I also found myself comparing his clean-shaven jaw to Willem’s.
I shut that shit down quick but couldn’t quite stop it from happening completely.
“So, what brings you to Cincinnati, new girl?” Gia asked.
“College.”
“Join the club,” they all said in unison.
“Ugh,” I groaned my displeasure.
“Not a fan?” Xander asked, laughing.
“Nope. My parents cornered me into it.”
“Bummer.”
“Are you housing in the dorms?” Amber asked.
“No. I forgot to apply in hopes it would stop me from coming. But my un—dad’s stepbrother,” I corrected before saying uncle, “is a professor at the school, and I’m staying with him.”
“Who is it?”
“Willem Deander.”
A chorus of squeals and excitement erupted from the duo.
Xander stepped back and winced, covering his ears. “I’m going to head back over there,” he said, escaping the high pitch.
“Oh, my god. Seriously? He’s so hot,” Gia squealed.
“He’s the hottie of economics.”
“Really?”
“Totally. There’s a hot professor in almost every department, but it’s totally a tie between Dr. Deander and Dr. Pierce in the science department as the hottest professors of the school.”
“Yeah, but Dr. Pierce is married now,” Gia whined.
“To one of his students,” Amber said, waggling her brows. “It makes me hold on to hope I still have a shot with one of the hotties. Maybe Dr. Deander will come in to see you. We’ll meet eyes across the room and fall madly in love,” she said dramatically.
“So romantic,” Gia added.
“Yeah,” I agreed half-heartedly. I imagined the scenario and the embers of a low fire burned in my chest. My fingers twitched to shove her aside and let her know that would never happen. Willem wouldn’t be interested in a blonde bimbo.
Jesus.
Taking a deep breath, I calmed the burning jealousy and shut that cattiness down. I may have a snotty attitude, but I was never a bitch. Especially not to other girls just because they liked a guy.
Thankfully, all further fantasies stopped being voiced when a swarm of patrons came in and work picked up again.
The last two hours had me running from one place to another until I was dead on my feet. The walk home felt a lot longer than the walk there.
However, when I walked in, I was met with the nice surprise of Willem sitting on the couch, his feet propped on the coffee table watching the Travel Channel.
“Hey, stranger,” he greeted, looking over the back of the couch.
“Hey.”
“Long day at work?”
“Yeah, but I’m proud to say, I only messed up twice and flirted my way out of both situations.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “There’s some pizza on the counter if you’re hungry.”
As if on cue, my stomach rumbled. “That sounds awesome.”
“Grab a beer and come watch about Prague.”
“I’m nineteen.”
He gave me a look that let me know no one would believe I hadn’t drunk before. “I’ve seen your Instagram and been an eighteen-year-old in Europe. I have no doubt you can handle a beer.”
“You looked at my Instagram?”
“Yeah, you’re my niece.”
“I’m definitely not your niece.”
A moment stretched where I leaned against the frame between the foyer and the living room and the small space to the couch. A moment where everything not being his niece meant sat waiting to be acknowledged.
I held my breath, tugging my bottom lip under my teeth. Blood rushed to my cheeks when his eyes dropped to watch the motion.
Say something my body urged. I just didn’t know if I wanted him to say something or me.
In the end, it didn’t matter.
“Still.” He shrugged and turned back to the TV, bringing his own beer to his lips.
Shaking off the moment, I stood back. “I’m gonna change, and then I’ll be down.”
“Cool.”
I fought a smile at the use of his word, which he gave me shit for overusing the first day.
I threw on a pair of old rolled up boxers and tank top, sighing when I could toss my bra across the room. I didn’t consider the consequences of my outfit until I walked in with both hands full of pizza and beer and no way to cover my chest. Thankfully, it was the dark tank and not my thin white one.
Maybe it was the beers he had, but his reaction time was slow, and I couldn’t miss the way his eyes dropped to stare at my chest. My nipples hardened, and he swallowed. Heat pooled in my core. Had any man ever really looked at me like that? Like I was water in a desert?
As quick as it started, it ended. He cleared his throat and looked away. “You ever been to Prague?”
“No. But next time for sure.”
“Well, dig in and educate yourself for next time.”
I sat and devoured my pizza and chugged my beer before falling back against the couch, ready to fall into a coma. When my phone vibrated on the coffee table with my dad’s name on the screen, I hit ignore and went back to the show.
“You shouldn’t ignore your parents.”
“Okay, Dad,” I mocked.
“Hey,” he held up his hands. “I get it.”
“Oh, yeah? Did your parents corner you into who they think you should be?”
“Nah. I’m just saying I get not really wanting to answer to anyone. Even when you know you should pick up the phone. It helps when you finally pick up.”
“Speaking from experience?”
He finished off his beer before picking at the label with his thumb. “My mom died shortly after she divorced Harry’s dad, and I never knew my dad. I kind of went off the rails and shut everyone out. Including your dad,” he admitted, wincing. “He kept calling, and eventually, I picked up. He pulled me back from the edge and encouraged me to get a degree to focus myself. It worked out because I used college as a way to travel abroad as much as I could.”
“That sounds like something he’d say.”
“Parents aren’t always wrong, even when we don’t want them to be right.”
“Yeah,” I sighed. Not wanting to go into anything too deep after a long day, I snuggled down on the couch and curled up to face him. “Tell me your favorite story from traveling.”
“Hmmm…” his mouth pinched, and his head tipped to the side. “Probably not my favorite, but a good one was when an entertainer flashed me his balls in Covent Garden.”
“No,” I gasped.
“Yup.” He shuddered, and we both laughed. “Probably one of my favorites was when I went to London for a year of college. On the holidays, I didn’t really have anywhere to go and not enough money to fly home even if I wanted to, so a buddy and I rented a van and road tripped through the isles in Scotland. It was cold as fuck, but worth it. Even if I did almost die of hypothermia.”
“Oh, my god. Tell me everything,” I demanded excitedly.
&n
bsp; He huffed a laugh but did as I asked.
Somewhere along the way, I must have fallen asleep because the next morning, he was gone for work, but I woke up covered by a blanket with a pillow tucked under my head.
Imagining Willem tucking me in had me flashing back to my conversation with Felicity, and I couldn’t ignore the flash of heat that shot through my limbs. That same heat followed me to the bathroom, where I finally gave in and released the ache with the image of Willem’s large, strong body as my muse rushing me to one of my strongest orgasms I’ve ever had.
Four
Willem
Three days since that night she fell asleep with me still talking. I hadn’t noticed, not allowing myself to look over, in fear I’d get caught staring at her chest again. I hadn’t noticed until she’d fallen over, her reddish hair bright against my black T-shirt. I’d frozen, not ready to rid myself of the gentle press of her head on my shoulder. Instead, I’d turned the tv off, brushed the hair back from her fair skin, and listened to her soft puffs of breath as my eyes traced the freckles decorating her nose and cheeks.
I’d never seen her without makeup, not that she wore much, but it’d made a difference giving her a more youthful glow. It’d been just the reminder I’d needed in the moment. Her sense of humor and the confidence she exuded just entering a room made me forget she wasn’t even twenty.
It’d been then I’d slowly extracted myself. I’d almost made it when she’d sighed and whispered in her sleep, “Tuck me in, Will.”
Will.
When was the last time anyone called me Will? It spoke of familiarity and comfort.
A couple friends called me that. Tessa tried to, but I’d hated hearing it in her voice.
But watching the shortened version of my name fall from her perfectly pouty lips shot straight down my spine to my cock like a live wire. Half-sitting half-standing, I’d watched her lips and silently begged to hear it again. I’d stared as images of sliding my dick between the plump curves flooded my brain. I’d almost groaned at the thought of painting them with my cum just to watch her lick it off.
