Because of Dylan: A forbidden student teacher slow burn romance (Riggins U Book 3)

by Erica Alexander

  Every time. It never fails. “No, dude. You don’t want to do that. Not if you want to keep all your limbs attached to your body and be able to walk.”

  He blinks at me.

  “What do you mean?” the guy on his left asks.

  “I mean her boyfriend is an ex-con covered in tattoos and the size of a barn. He doesn’t take kindly to other guys hitting on his girl,” I lie.

  “Well, he’s not here right now, is he, doll?” This is from the slimy guy on the right. If they were the Three Stooges, he would be Moe. I let the doll comment slide.

  “Her boyfriend? No, he’s not here. But his associates are. She never goes anywhere without someone watching her.” I look over their heads pointedly. All three look back, glancing over their shoulders. I hold back a laugh. Their gazes dart over the few people sitting at the tables. Two guys stare back. All three turn back to me.

  “You’re bullshitting me.” Moe sneers.

  “Hey, I don’t care. It’s your broken legs, not mine. What should I get the lady?”

  There’s silence. “Maybe we should just watch the game.” This from the guy on the left.

  “Shut up, Larry,” Moe shushes him. I guess this makes the guy in the middle Curly. I crack up. I can’t help laughing. His name really is Larry.

  “What’s so funny?” Moe shoves his empty bottle at me. “Get me another beer.”

  I know his type. I hate his type. Rich, entitled, thinks he’s better than everyone else. I grab him another beer. Make sure it’s not a cold one from the back. “Is that all?” I look at the other two. They nod.

  I walk away to make River’s hot chocolate. Heck, I’m making two.

  I heat whole milk in the cappuccino machine and go back into the kitchen for chunks of baking chocolate.

  “You’re using real chocolate?” River leans over the top to watch me.

  “That’s the best way.” I chop the chunks into small slivers and put them in a ceramic bowl. Pour some hot milk over it and stir until I get a creamy consistency. Add the rest of the milk and stir more. “I like to sweeten mine with agave, but we don’t have that here, so I have to use sugar.” I add the sugar, mix until dissolved, and then pour the hot chocolate into two large mugs. The scent is heavenly.

  “Fries!” the cook calls from the pass-through window. Perfect timing. I grab the fries and a mug and put them on the bar top in front of River. She goes for the mug first. I wrap my hands around my mug, enjoying the way the heat warms my hands.

  “Hmm, this smells so good.” She blows steam away before taking a tentative sip.

  I reach for a french fry. I love the mix of salty and sweet foods together.

  “What was that about?” River holds the mug with both hands and moves a finger toward the Three Stooges.

  “Oh them? That’s nothing. But now you have an ex-con boyfriend known for putting guys who hit on you in hospitals.”

  She choke-laughs on her drink. “Thanks, friend. Super Becca comes in for the save.”

  A few people leave and I close their tab. The three college guys keep their eyes on the TV. I make my way back to River. Most of the fries are gone. I help myself to a couple.

  River pushes the plate closer to me. “I have questions.”

  I knew this was coming. “Ask away.” Look at me being all open instead of running for the hills.

  “All those times you said you were going home for holidays, where did you go?”

  I shrug. “Nowhere. I stayed on campus.”

  “But you can’t stay on campus all year round. Don’t they close the dorms?”

  “You can stay on campus if you take at least one class during the breaks. I make sure to always take a class.”

  “I thought they had mandatory leave during certain times, like winter break.”

  “Yeah, during those times I had to leave. I have a friend who lives off campus, and he lets me stay in his apartment during the breaks. I love his place, it’s like being on vacation.”

  “A friend? Who?”

  “You don’t know him—oh, wait. You do. You met him on Halloween. Remember that cute boy I introduced you to? Lucas?”

  “The guy who was hugging you?”

  “Yes, that’s him. His family is in real estate, and they own the building he lives in. So he has his own apartment. It’s small, but so cool.”

  River looks down at her mug, and when she looks back up, there’s hurt in her eyes. “You know you could have stayed in my place. Heck, you could have come home with me. I invited you every time.”

  “I couldn’t, River. Not without questions. Eventually you’d be wondering why I never went home. Why I stayed on campus the entire year. And your mom? I’m not entirely convinced she can’t read minds.” I make a cross sign with my fingers.

  River snorts. “That’s because she can. Mom’s spidey sense is off the charts. But you could have come a few times. Like you did freshman year.”

  How can I make her understand how I felt at her home? I don’t want to hurt her. “Being with your family was the best, but also so hard. I had nothing like that. I’ve never had family meals and all that laughter and joy. It was too much. It made me envious, and I didn’t want to feel that way. You and your family were so kind to me. But I was an outsider. I didn’t belong, I didn’t know how to be.” My stomach clenches, the truth I’m so used to denying hits me like a physical blow.

  I’m saved from her response when one of the regulars waves at me. “I’ll be right back.”

  I refill their drinks and get them a fresh batch of pretzels. The Three Stooges watch me. I glance at the TV. How much longer until this game is over? Fourth quarter. Hope they leave soon.

  I go back to River. She puts a hand up before I can speak. “I want you to come home with me for Christmas. I don't want you to spend Christmas alone ever again. Please say yes.”

  I wring my hands in my apron. “I don’t know if I can come.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Because my father wants me to spend Christmas with him.”

  She squeals and covers her mouth with both hands. Wiggles in her chair like an excited little kid. “Oh my God. That’s good, right? You said he’s a nice guy.”

  “Yes, it is good. And guess what? I have a brother and sister. He’s married, and the wife is lovely too.”

  “I’m so happy for you. Tell me more.”

  I grin at her. “I will. But first ask me what I did for Thanksgiving.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “Professor Beckett? You had Thanksgiving dinner with Professor Beckett?”

  “Yes. And his brother, Tommy, too.” I take the empty fries plate and put it in the dirty dishes tray.

  River gives me her empty mug. “Now, speak. Leave nothing out.”

  I put both our mugs on the tray. “Tommy invited me over. Said it was Dylan’s idea—”

  “Oh, it’s Dylan now. No longer Professor Dick, I see.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me.

  I look around the bar, no one is asking for anything. The game is over, and the highlights are playing. It’s only the locals and the Three Stooges hanging out now. “Hold on.”

  I walk to them. “Can I get you guys anything else?”

  “No, I’m good.” This from the guy on the left. He gets up and slides me a twenty. “Keep the change.”

  “Thanks, Larry.”

  He smiles. “Hey, you remember my name.”

  I smile back and turn to the other two. Curly, the guy in the middle, gets up and puts his jacket on. He was nursing a soda all night. Guess he’s the designated driver. He gives me a five and both of them step back, waiting for Moe.

  “You guys go.” He looks at River. “I’ll stay a little longer.”

  A chill runs down my spine. I don’t like the way he’s looking at her. I don’t like it at all.

  Larry, the nicer one of them, steps closer. “What? How you going to get back to campus?”

  “I have a feeling I’ll get a ride.” Moe takes a long
sip of his beer. His fifth for the night.

  “Come on, let’s go.” Curly puts his hand on Moe’s shoulder, but he shoves it off. “You two pussies can leave. I have plans for tonight.”

  Over my dead body. Time to ruin his plans.

  The two guys hang for another moment, then leave. I close their tab and go back to River. “That asshole over there has plans that involve you. You’re not leaving here alone. Sit tight. I’m getting backup.”

  “What?” River looks up from her phone and glances at the jerk behind me. “What do you mean?”

  “His friends left, and he said he was staying because he has plans, and then he looked at you. I got a bad feeling about it.”

  She’s fidgeting with a napkin, twisting it, her fingers shake. She looks nervous, which is not something I’m used to seeing on her.

  “Wait. I’ll be right back.” I walk to the other end of the bar and to my locals. “See that guy? Can you keep an eye on him for me? Make sure he stays away from my friend?”

  “We got this.” One of the locals vouches for the three of them.

  “I can walk out with her. I’ll say I need a smoke.” He grabs a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and puts it on the bar top.

  For once, I’m glad for the unhealthy habit. “Sounds good to me. Thanks, guys.”

  I walk to the back, and I can hear them engaging the asshole in conversation. I smile. They’re distracting him for me. I find Gus in his small office. He’s going over paperwork.

  “Hey, Gus, I’m gonna need you up front for a minute.”

  He looks up. He knows I only come after him when there’s a problem. He gets up and towers over me. I had Gus in mind when I described River’s fake boyfriend. “What’s up?”

  “This one guy has been making eyes at my friend all night. Now his friends left, and he stayed to wait her out. I think he’s up to no good.”

  If there’s one thing Gus hates more than dealing with customers, it is slimy guys who prey on women.

  “What’s the plan?”

  “I’ll get her to leave, and you make sure he stays inside until she drives away.”

  “Okay. You talk to her. I’ll wait a minute and then come out, so it doesn’t look like you came to get me, and he doesn’t decide you’re the next best thing.”

  “And that’s why you’re the boss. You’re smart like that.” I play-punch him in the bicep. His arms are bigger than my legs.

  I go back to River. “Okay, here’s the plan. You get ready to leave, and when you do, Gus will stop the jerk from following you, and one of my locals will walk out with you. Put your phone on speaker and call me when you’re safely away.”

  “What about you?” She reaches out to me, but the bar top is too wide for her to touch me.

  “I’m fine. I have Gus and my local guys. Plus, he’s not interested in me.”

  Gus comes out then, and Moe pays attention. It might be cold enough for polar bears outside, but Gus always wears a cutoff bar T-shirt, and the tattoos on his neck, arms and hands can’t be ignored. Especially on a guy his size.

  River gets money to pay for her drink and food. “Don’t worry about it. I ate half of the fries, and we don’t even have hot chocolate on the menu.”

  She gets up and grabs her jacket from the back of her chair. Jerk Face pays attention. He throws some money on the bar. Gus takes the money, looks up his tab and starts making change real slow. My local guy announces he needs a cigarette.

  Everything is playing out like a finely orchestrated choreography.

  The jerk gets up. “Hurry up, man.”

  “No, no. I want to make sure I got your change right.” Gus gives him a vicious smile that could put sharks to shame.

  I grab a rag and clean the counter. Rivers walk out with my local. Jerk Face goes after them. I look at Gus and catch him leaping over the counter and chairs with an agility I’d never imagine possible for a guy his size. I swear the ground shakes when he lands.

  He maneuvers himself around Moe and blocks the door and puts his hands up. “You forgot your change.”

  “Forget it, man.” Jerk Face tries to go around Gus.

  Gus cuts him off. “No, I got your money right here.” He counts again. Slowly. It’s all in one-dollar bills.

  I grab my phone from my pocket. What’s taking her so long? Come on, River, call me already. If Jerk Face is stupid enough to push Gus, it will get ugly, and I so don’t want to mop blood off the floors.

  My phone buzzes. A text instead of a call.

  River: Incoming.

  Incoming? What the heck does that mean?

  River: And before you ask, I’m using voice to text. I’m good. Driving home. Thanks, best friend.

  I don’t want to text back and distract her.

  River: I want all the details. All of them.

  I glance up at Gus and nod. He stops counting the money and steps aside. “Okay, man.”

  Jerk Face runs out. I stare at my phone again. Incoming. I don't understand what she’s talking about.

  The bells over the door ding. I look up.

  Dylan walks in.

  Incoming, indeed.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  What is he doing here?

  Dylan approaches, his gaze on me the entire time. He looks amazing in gray sweatpants, a hoodie, and a ski jacket—last year's lift tickets still dangling from a hook. He has a couple days' scruff on his face. He takes the same seat River vacated.

  I finish unloading a rack of clean glasses onto a shelf before walking to him. “Hey. I’m surprised to see you here.”

  “Me too.”

  “What do you mean?” I try to stuff my hands into my back pockets before remembering I’m wearing leggings with no pockets. I cross my arms behind my back instead.

  “I couldn’t sleep. Normally I’d go for a run, but not with this weather.” His fingers tap a light tattoo on the counter.

  “So … you went for a ride instead?” I grip my elbows.

  “Yeah and somehow ended up here.” His gaze is fixed on me.

  We’re silent for several moments. I scramble for something to say. Nothing comes to me. We stare at each other. Then the bell over the door dings again. My local is back from his smoke, and so is Jerk Face. He finds Gus talking to the other two locals at the opposite end of the bar. Takes his seat back. “Where’s my change?”

  His tone is accusatory, like he didn’t leave in a hurry. His cheeks are red. Anger turns what otherwise would be a nice face into a caricature of itself.

  I turn my back to him. Gus can deal with it. “Can I get you a Dos Equis?”

  “No, thanks. Maybe something warm?” His fingers trace the wood grain on the bar top, back and forth. What would they feel like on my skin?

  “A coffee, then?”

  “Probably not the best idea when I already have trouble falling asleep.” His eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles.

  “Hot chocolate?”

  “Yes, that would be great, thanks.”

  I get to making the second round of hot chocolate of the night. The ingredients still next to the cappuccino machine. Dylan watches me go through the same ritual as before.

  I make myself a mug to share with him. Check the time. Nearly midnight. “Do you want anything to eat? I can check if the cook is still in.”

  He shakes his head. “No, thanks. Not hungry.”

  I give him his drink, and we both take a sip, looking at each other over the rim of our mugs. This one is even better than the first.

  His eyes widen at the first taste. “This is good.”

  “Thanks. That’s a Becca special. It’s not on the menu.” I remember the cookies.

  “Oh, I have something to go with the hot chocolate. River brought me some homemade cookies earlier.” I reach into the shelf where I hid them and open the container. There’s like two dozen cookies, three different kinds. Sugar cookies, chocolate chip, and, my favorite, peanut butter chocolate chunk. I offer him the container. He grabs
a chocolate chip. I grab a peanut butter one. We take a bite. The moan we share sounds obscene. His eyes darken, and he looks at me like he wants to eat me instead of the cookie.

  My cheeks burn, the heat spreads into my chest and belly. He licks a crumb off his thumb. The heat in my belly pools lower. This is like foreplay.

  We stare at each other, blink, look away, drink, stare again. Not a word is spoken and yet so much is said. The sounds of the bar fade away. I curse and bless the counter between us. God knows what would happen if we could touch right now.

  “What about my cookie?” Jerk Face interrupts us.

  And with his voice comes the low murmur of conversation. The muffled song playing on the speakers. The talking heads on TV. I get yanked back into reality. Look at the asshole. He smiles like a used-car salesman. So sleazy it leaves an oily residue behind. I want to bathe in bleach.

  “Sorry. You can’t have any. It’s against health code policies since these cookies were not made on the premises.”

  “He had one.” Asshole points at Dylan. He sounds like a petulant child.

  “He’s a friend.” I turn away from him, grip my mug and bring it to my lips.

  “I can be your friend. What time are you leaving, doll? Maybe we can share those cookies in the back seat of your car.”

  I ignore him, taking another sip. Dylan is no longer looking at me. He’s staring at Jerk Face with murder in his eyes. A small flame kindles inside me.

  “Hey! I’m talking to you.” Jerk Face’s voice gets louder.

  Dylan stands up.

  Gus moves like a ninja and gets around the bar. Steps between Dylan and the asshole. “Time for you to go, buddy.” His tone is friendly, but there’s nothing friendly about his posture. Gus smacks a fist into the palm of his hand.

  The three locals stand—the synchronized screech of their chairs dragging on the floor is a warning—but Jerk Face is either too drunk or too stupid because he doesn’t seem to notice and doesn’t back down.

  “I can’t go. I’m waiting for my friend Bonnie to give me a ride.” He points at me.