by Roni Loren
She stepped out of his hold and eyed him in that way that made him think she’d missed her calling as a high school principal. “It is a big deal, actually.”
His defenses went up. “What? Don’t sleep with men who don’t have fancy letters behind their names?”
She scoffed. “Oh, don’t give me that crap. You know that’s not what I’m saying. Do you know what percentage of people who drop out of college actually go back?”
“I’m not a statistic. I dropped out of high school and got a GED years later when no one expected I could. I’ll go back when the timing is better.” The last part rolled off his tongue. A lie to her. A lie to himself.
She scrutinized him, eyes narrowed, lips pressed together. He turned his back to her to open the medicine cabinet in search of a spare toothbrush, avoiding her reflection in the mirror.
“Does this have anything to do with you getting referred to the Learning Services Center?”
Lane stilled and his hand gripped the edge of her sink. “What?”
She crossed her arms, her reflection misted in the glass. “When you accosted me at the café, you dropped something on your way out. It was a referral to test for learning disabilities.”
Heat tracked up the back of his neck and flooded his face. He turned around. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Lane.”
He stepped past her. “Look, it’s late. I need to get going.”
“Get going?” she asked, following him into her bedroom, a bloodhound on the hunt. “It’s the middle of the night. What happened to you’ll sleep here if you want to?
He searched for his jeans and boxers on the other side of the bed, digging amongst the pillows and blanket they’d knocked onto the floor. “If I want to. I can’t tonight. I have to be somewhere in the morning.”
She stalked over and stepped in front of him before he could grab his jeans off the floor. She gave him a pointed stare. “Bullshit. Don’t try to lie to me. I work with addicts and actors for a living. Your professor referred you because she thinks you have dyslexia. Did you get tested?”
He reached between her feet and grabbed his jeans, some weird fight-or-flight response welling in him. He didn’t want her to see this side of him. When he was with her, he felt confident and in control and like the version of himself he wanted to be. This conversation made him feel like that stupid kid all over again. “No. I don’t need to. School’s just not for me.”
Elle huffed with disgust. “Oh my God, you are not doing that male pride thing.”
He didn’t respond.
“Come on, Cannon. You’re better than that. If you’re having trouble, get yourself evaluated and they’ll give you help.”
“I don’t want help.” He shoved his leg in his jeans, giving up on finding the boxers. “I wanted to do it on my own. If I can’t get it that way, I don’t want it.”
At that, she stepped forward, put her palms onto his chest and, taking advantage of his off-balance state, shoved him onto the bed. “Stop getting dressed like you’re leaving. And that’s ridiculous logic. Get over yourself.”
His jaw flexed, his fingers gripping the side of the mattress. “I’m sure that’s easy for you to say. Let me guess—you graduated top of your class, went to some fancy university on scholarship, everyone’s always told you how brilliant you are? I bet you didn’t even have to study because it just came naturally to you.”
Defiance flared in her eyes. “I worked my ass off, for the record. But what does that have to do with anything?”
“Because you don’t get it,” he said, voice rising. “You don’t get what it feels like for someone to look at you with pity because you want something, but you’re not smart enough or because you came from the wrong place and the wrong family and had the wrong life. That you’re just faking it. That you’re smoke and mirrors.”
The words spilled out of him, and he wanted to gather them back the minute they were out there. But if he expected a free pass from Elle, she wasn’t going to give it. “Don’t do that, Lane. You got dealt a shit hand. Okay, fine. That sucks. But it doesn’t mean you get to use that as an excuse.”
“It’s not an excuse.”
“Right. Sure, it’s not. You know what I’d write in your chart if you were a patient? Self-defeating behaviors and pride too big for his own damn good.”
“You sure you’re not reading your own chart?” he tossed back.
She narrowed her eyes as if he’d hit the mark but then shook her head. “Oh, don’t turn it around on me. We can worry about my fucked-up-ness later.”
He smirked. “Your fucked-up-ness?”
“That file is too thick to get into right now. We’re talking about you.”
“No, we’re not. I’m leaving.”
She put her hands on his shoulders and straddled him before he could get up. Her thighs squeezed around him with more strength than he would’ve expected, and his feet tangled in his jeans. “No, you’re not. And, yes, we are.”
His body responded to her climbing on top of him of its own volition, but he couldn’t have this conversation with her. “Leave it alone, Elle.”
She met his eyes and held the gaze, something determined but uncharacteristically gentle there. “Give me one therapy moment. Humor me and you can have your own with me at the time of your choosing. Then I will take off this robe and we will get back to what we’re good at.”
Lane let his hands rest on her waist, enjoying the feel of her despite his frustration with the conversation “You’re baiting me with sex? Dr. McCray, I thought you were above that.”
“Don’t think so highly of me.”
He let out a breath. “Fine. One doctor moment. One.”
“Good,” she said, her tone all business. “I get that it’s hard to accept that you need help with something. That you can’t do something one-hundred percent your way. Believe me. But you’re not going to drop out of school.”
“Elle—”
She put her fingers over his mouth. “Because if you do, you’re proving all those people who told you that you weren’t good enough right. Dyslexia or any other learning disability is just something that is. If you couldn’t walk, you wouldn’t reject a wheelchair. This is just like that—a thing that can be addressed and accommodated. It’s not something you caused and it literally, scientifically, has zero to do with your level of intelligence. You’re not dumb. But if you drop out of school over it instead of getting help, then you are an idiot and they win.”
His body was tense all over, but he tried to keep his tone even when she moved her hand away from his mouth. “This is how you talk to your patients? Call them idiots?”
“You’re not my patient. But I know what it feels like to think you’re a fake. After my marriage fell apart, I almost didn’t come back to this line of work. How was I supposed to guide people through life and their relationships when I couldn’t even manage my own? When I was depressed and could barely get out of bed because of some guy?”
She said the words matter-of-factly, like she was reporting the weather, but Lane’s chest tightened. “Elle…”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it, but I can tell you that it took someone talking to me like this to make me get help and get back on track. Who knows where I’d be if I hadn’t listened? I don’t pretend I’m the best doctor out there, but I know I’ve helped a lot of people. I know I’m good at what I do and care about my patients. And that’s how I say ‘fuck you’ to my ex and the people who let me down.” She held his gaze, something earnest in hers. “I know you’re good at what you do, too. People who aren’t the best at their jobs don’t get positions at The Grove. But you obviously want a bigger role. To get that, you’re going to have to get over your pride and fear and fight for it. Don’t be a fucking coward.”
The words were digging into him, one by one, sharp little needles, stabs of truth. She’d pinned him to a board like a butterfly and laid out the guts of it. Fear. Shame.
Insecurity. “You’re one to talk about not being a coward. You can’t even sleep with me without paying me like I’m your whore.”
She shifted on his lap, leaning back to eye him, and braced her hands on her on thighs. “That’s not about pride. That’s about learning from my mistakes. I know you don’t need the money. I know you’re here only because you want to be and the minute you don’t or you get bored with this, you’re gone. The money keeps my head in the right place. It gives us both boundaries.”
“That we’re not dating,” he said flatly.
“Yes. I can’t date. I won’t. My emotional tolerance for that sort of thing is nonexistent. I was…broken after my divorce.” She ran a hand over her still damp hair. “I’m better alone, Lane. That’s the only time my life goes in the right direction, when I’m on my own. But you’re the type of guy who will be a great husband one day and maybe a dad. You’re still young, and throwing away a potential career because you’re embarrassed to ask for help is ridiculous. Don’t sabotage yourself like that.”
He sighed, some of his anger draining out of him. He wasn’t going to blame Elle for being honest. He knew what he was signing up for when he made the offer in the first place and expecting her to be something different wasn’t fair. “Maybe it’s dumb, but I don’t want to have to sit with some college-age kid to tutor me on how to read and write better. It just feels like a repeat of high school, and I never want to go through that kind of humiliation again.”
She considered him for a long moment, her brows pinching together again. “What if I could help?”
He blinked, his original trail of thought cutting off abruptly. “What?”
She shrugged. “If you get tested and it’s dyslexia, I can help. I worked for a while at the learning center at my college in undergrad. If auditory stuff works better for you than print, there are resources for that. Apps that will read documents aloud, dictation software, even simple things like bookmarks that isolate lines of text can help. It can take a while to get used to all of that stuff, but in the meantime, I could help you finish your paper and whatever else you have to do to get to the end of this semester. I could read aloud references to you. You could dictate your paper to me, and I can help you organize how you want to say things.”
“You want to tutor me?” He grimaced. “That sounds like the least sexy thing ever.”
She lifted a brow. “You’re saying I wouldn’t be a hot teacher?”
The haughty expression broke the tension strumming through him for a moment and he smiled. “Your humility is overwhelming.”
“Said the pot to the kettle.”
He ran his hands over her arms, sliding beneath the sleeves of her robe. “I don’t get it. Why would you want to do this? You don’t want to be friends. You’ve made sure to hammer that point home. This would require spending actual time with me that doesn’t involve you begging to come.”
“I did not beg.”
Now it was his turn to give her the don’t-be-coy look. “There was begging, McCray. Pleading, even.” He pushed aside one lapel of her robe and drew his knuckles over her breast, watching the nipple tighten in awareness. “I bet I could get you to do it again right now.”
She put her hand over his, pressing his palm against her but stilling his movement. “Don’t try to distract me with your wicked hands.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Why?”
Her lips pursed, her frustration obvious. “Maybe because I feel like this whole setup we have is uneven. I know I’m paying you, but you’re humoring me.”
He met her gaze but didn’t deny the accusation.
She sighed. “So maybe this makes it feel better for me. I provide you with a service…”
“…and I pay you back with one,” he finished, his tone flat.
She nodded. “Yes. Exactly.”
He let out a breath, wishing they could just go back to tussling in bed instead of discussing all of his shortcomings and their screwed-up arrangement, but he had a feeling she wasn’t going to let this go. And really, he didn’t want to drop out of school. He’d worked hard to get to the point he had and still wanted to be a degreed therapist, to be able to help people with more than his body.
Getting tutored by Elle would probably be maddening but more fun than dealing with some eighteen-year-old kid who was trying to teach him for class credit. Plus, the more he and Elle annoyed each other, the hotter the sex would be. But if they were going to be spending more time together and working on things that affected his career, he had to put a lid on this back-and-forth act she was pulling. She’d almost ended the whole thing when he’d come over tonight. This dance was wearing him out. He didn’t want that same thing playing out with the tutoring. But he didn’t know how to fix that unless…
An idea popped into his head. A dangerous, barbed one, but a good one. He smiled. “I’ll agree to this on one condition.”
“A condition,” she said, obviously skeptical.
“Yep,” he announced. “No more clandestine stuff.”
Her frown was instant. “What?”
“I have a few months left of this semester. You agree to help me get through that. I agree to make it worth your while in bed. But in public, we’re friends.”
She bit her lip, a deer-in-the-headlights look in her eye. “Lane…”
“It won’t be real and we can go our separate ways when the agreement comes to an end. But I’ve spent years being women’s secret. It’s too exhausting to be yours, too, especially if we’re going to be seeing each other a lot.”
Elle shifted off his lap and sat next to him on the bed, her eyes wary. “I can’t do that.”
“Sure you can. People know you’re human. They won’t be that shocked that you made a friend.”
She shook her head, her entire posture closing. “You don’t get it. It’s just—people will talk—and my reputation at the hospital and—”
Elle never stumbled with words, so the way she stopped and started put a chill in his chest that spread out wider the longer she babbled. There were reasons mixed up in her speech and explanations and lots of you-wouldn’t-understands.
But Lane understood. He understood exactly.
He felt his own shields going up, his gates locking in place. He lifted a hand to cut her off. “I get it, Elle.”
She let out a relieved breath. “Oh, good.”
“The surrogate is good enough for your bed in private, but we couldn’t have people of importance thinking you’re slumming it with someone below your pay grade. Got it.” He reached for his jeans.
She stiffened at that. “That’s not—”
“I’ve got to go.”
She grabbed his arm. “Please, don’t. Come on. What I’m saying isn’t coming out right. I didn’t spend time with Donovan publicly either. It has nothing to do with you. I just—you’re part of that social world at work. I’m not. I don’t want to be. This saves us both the awkwardness.”
His fingers paused while buttoning his fly. “You think I give a fuck about awkwardness?”
He turned to find her eyes pleading—a sight he never thought he’d see outside of sex. “Please. Don’t go. We’re both exhausted. I’m not explaining myself well. Can we just go to bed and talk about in the morning? It’s almost four.”
He stared down at her, his anger still roiling but exhaustion waging a battle as well. He didn’t get where she was coming from but for some reason, he sensed that it really wasn’t about him. This was much more about her.
He didn’t know if it would be a deal breaker for him, but suddenly he felt too tired to decide. Getting a few hours’ sleep and talking about it in the morning wouldn’t hurt anything. With a groan, he tugged off his jeans, walked to the other side of the bed, and slid beneath the covers.
Elle shrugged out of her robe and settled into the spot next to him, turning on her side to face him. “Thank you.”
The words were quiet in the dark. Sincere.
He closed his eyes, wo
ndering what in the hell he’d gotten himself into.
Chapter 13
The knock on the back door came way too early and way too loudly. Elle startled at the sound and almost spilled coffee on herself. She muttered a curse and glanced at the clock on the microwave. Just past seven. Who the hell would show up at this hour on a Saturday morning?
She set the steaming carafe down on the kitchen counter and wiped her hands on a dishtowel before heading to the door. But when she peeked past the curtain and saw who it was, every part of her went icy. Oh, hell no.
The knock came again. “Ellie, I know you’re in there. I saw the curtains move.”
Ellie. No one dared call her that these days. No one but her mother and…Nina.
Her stomach twisted and her hands balled. How did Nina even find her house on campus? They usually didn’t let anyone past the gates this early except employees.
The brisk knock came again, louder this time. “Seriously? I’m not going away.”
Elle cringed. Lane was still sleeping upstairs and the last thing she wanted to do was rouse him, especially with this guest at the door. Elle cursed under her breath and unlocked the latch. She cracked the door open a sliver. “What are you doing here?”
Despite the early hour, Nina looked perfectly stylish and put together. Her honey-brown hair in a loose twist, makeup that accentuated her blue eyes and hid her freckles, and a navy-blue sundress that was probably off this spring’s runway. “Let me in. We need to talk.”
“We don’t talk.”
Nina winced ever so slightly but then pursed her lips. “Yes. I get that. But we need to today, and I didn’t drive to the boondocks from the city to stand out here and talk through the door.”
“That’s your own fault for showing up uninvited.”
“I tried to call from Mom’s number because I knew you wouldn’t answer mine, but apparently, you don’t give a shit about her anymore either.”
That did it. Elle moved to shut the door, but Nina put her hand out and stopped it. “Don’t. Sorry. Please. Do you think I’d be here if it wasn’t important? I don’t exactly love the idea of talking to you either. And if you shut the door, I’m just going to sit here and wait.”
