Behind the Count: Cessna U Wildcats Book Two

by Readnour, Kimberly

  “Nothing. I was teasing.”

  Cocking my head to the side, I study him until he grows uncomfortable and turns away. “What’s going on, Dalton?”

  “Eh, a few teammates don’t like my attitude. Believe me, that has nothing to do with you. That’s all on me.”

  I still don’t like it. “If you need to quit helping me, let me know. I didn’t want to cause rifts between anyone.”

  “I’m good. A lot is going on that has nothing to do with the team. Forget I mentioned it.”

  I chew my bottom lip. Dalton’s been a great friend. He’s someone who doesn’t judge that I can complain to about my brother. I had that with Noah, but our kiss during the summer ruined our easy repartee. Up until the second kiss, that awkwardness began to wane, but never my feelings toward him. The second kiss confirmed those feelings, which is why I’m more than determined to make him realize this.

  “You know I’m here for you, right? I mean, if you ever need someone to talk things over with.” I figure I’ll offer my ear. It’s the least I can do since he’s been helping me. He doesn’t seem to have any friends outside my brother’s group. He’s aloof, but part of me thinks it’s by choice.

  “I’m fine, but thanks.”

  “What made you choose this school? Didn’t you get redshirted your freshman year?”

  “Yeah.” He looks off in the distance, sadness filling his eyes. “That’s a story for another day.”

  “I have some time if you want to discuss it.” I really don’t have the time, but I’d be late to my tutoring session if it meant being there for a friend.

  Dalton smiles softly at me. “Another time.”

  “Okay. Just know I’m always willing to listen.”

  “Thanks, but I’m all right.”

  “Well, I better get back. I need to shower before my tutoring session.” I shake my head. The fact that algebra trumps me is beyond frustrating, but Noah has helped. I don’t know where I’d be without his guidance.

  “You’ve got this. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He jogs backward and gives me a slight wave before turning around and sprinting toward jock row.

  He seems lost at times. I shake it off and push toward my dorm.

  I’m greeted by a high-pitched squeal when I push through my room’s door.

  “I’m guessing you have good news?”

  “Yes! I just scored your brother and me tickets to the playoff game next weekend.” Cara does a little dance, which causes me to laugh.

  “Won’t that be in Philly if they win?”

  “Uh-huh. My brother’s paying for our airfare, so I hope Braxton’s free to go. Eep! I can’t wait to tell him.”

  “Nothing is going on family-wise,” I assure her.

  She bounces out of the room, dialing his number as I check my phone. I panic when I see I have a missed call from Noah. Crap. I hope he’s not canceling before my test tomorrow. There are a few problems I still need to work through. Without missing a beat, I hit his number.

  “Hey, I missed your call. What’s up?” I try to sound chipper when he answers.

  “Nothing. Just confirming our study date for tonight.”

  “Of course. As long as nothing’s changed on your end.” My shoulders relax from knowing we’re still on.

  “Nope, I’m good.” His voice is off. It’s as if he’s mad at something or someone, but the person can’t be me. I haven’t done anything. I shake it off. We end the call, and I head straight to the showers. Noah’s been worried about the freshman catcher, and him having a bum ankle hasn’t lifted his spirits any. But I can’t help but think there’s something more to his mood.

  Cindy thinks I need to date someone else to get over him. Maybe, she’s right. I certainly don’t want to hold out for a guy who will never be interested in me. That sounds like a sad country song. But the problem, is I don’t want to date anyone else. Even when I dated Caleb, Noah was still present in my thoughts.

  But he wants me. That last kiss said it all. I just need to ramp up my seduction skills. When I walk out of the shower stall, I make a pact with myself. Noah is going to see me for someone other than Braxton’s little sister by the time we leave tonight. Our he loves me, he loves me not games have gone on far too long.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Shannon

  Operation Seduce Noah crashed and burned before it took flight.

  The man has the willpower of a saint. Tucked away in a study room located on the library’s second floor, Noah and I sit beside each other at the table on the far end. We’re alone, not that it matters. Junior high kids at a school dance stand closer together than us. Much like our last tutoring session, Noah sticks to the regime of explaining the formulas and making sure I understand them. Trust me, learning the material and acing tomorrow’s test takes precedence over flirting. I get it. But a small touch or slight brush of his fingertips against my exposed skin wouldn’t hurt.

  I shouldn’t be surprised. I knew something was amiss the moment he greeted me with a forced smile. But what, I have no clue. There’s an edginess to his disposition I’ve never seen. Even his speech pattern is more methodical than usual. Noah leans on the side of seriousness, so his directness isn’t new, but the candid way he replies and the rigidness to his posture make him seem…I don’t know. Annoyed, maybe? But at what is the question. Is he annoyed with me? I can’t help but wonder what I could’ve done.

  Maybe, he doesn’t like my outfit? I admit the black mini skirt is overkill for studying. To be fair, I chose this outfit while implementing phase one of seduction operations. Considering how many times his gaze dropped to my legs, my tactics should’ve worked.

  I shift my focus to the last equation in the problem set, my pencil scrolling across the notepad and plugging in the formula. I ignore the subtle way his fingers tap against the open math book. The rhythmic sound keeping cadence with his breath is the only sound in the room. I finish the problems, and a sense of pride swells inside me. I’m doing this, and for the first time, I have some clarity while visualizing the solution. I attribute this small victory to Noah. I turn to him with an all-white grin. He may be broody and mad at me for whatever reason, but he did the impossible—he taught me algebra.

  “I understood these,” I say, beaming.

  His gaze dips to my mouth, but only for a moment. He clears his throat and looks over the problem, still keeping his hands firmly on the tabletop. It isn’t until he’s finished when a genuine smile breaks loose. “Very good.”

  “Thank you.” Suddenly warm, I pull the front of my top out to fan myself.

  His eyes track my movements. He shifts in his seat. “I like your shirt.” His voice comes out gravelly.

  “Thanks. This is actually my design.”

  His eyes widen. “Really? It’s sexy.”

  I hide my smirk. Operation Seduce Noah is back in play. “It’s a prototype of my evening gown. We had to make a pattern for one of our designs, and I took it one step further by turning the upper dress portion into a top.”

  “Impressive.”

  “Thanks again. I’m happy with the way it turned out.” I tweaked the halter-style neckline by adding sleeves that consist of a band of material wrapping around the arms and leaving the shoulders exposed. The additional material hides lengthier scars without compromising sex appeal. To complete the look, I added a keyhole slit to the back that stops at the small of the back. Wearing the design as a top gives me a better feel for the final adjustments. Also, I’ll get a better feel for the type of material that will be the most comfortable. This rayon-satin blend I chose doesn’t make the cut when nerves are involved. I need a fabric that can breathe.

  Otherwise, I rocked the changes. Marla may think my designs are boring, but the heat in Noah’s eyes says differently. I feel sexy. I call my outfit a win. Or I would if he’d unclench his hands and touch me.

  “One last problem set.”

  I bite back my sigh and get to work. It doesn’t take me long before he’s reading over t
he equations.

  “You’ve got this.” Noah leans back in his seat and stretches, exposing a delicious strip of skin. I try not to stare.

  “I’m feeling confident.”

  “You should.” A glint of appreciation flickers in his eyes, but he shuts it down, leaving nothing but hardness.

  “Noah, what’s wrong?”

  The tic in his jaw returns as he sits upright. His stare is unyielding. I feel like the window the rain was pelting against as pickaxes chip away my insides.

  “Talk to me, Noah. I can tell when something is wrong with you. Just spit it out.”

  He closes his eyes and takes a breath. My pulse spikes as I ready myself for another round of rejection. “Have you been running with Dalton?”

  The air escapes my lungs. Of all the possible questions, that was the least expected. Although, I shouldn’t be surprised my running got back to him, but who told him? Does Braxton know? I quickly shut that thought down. If Braxton knew, he’d be here by now ordering me to stop.

  “Dalton’s been helping me gain some endurance.” I don’t dare say the reasoning. I may be able to talk my way into running but not training for a 5K run.

  “That isn’t safe.”

  I let out a frustrated growl. I didn’t expect this tonight. “The cardiologist only warned about competitive sports. Regular exercise is fine.”

  “Does Dalton know about your condition?”

  I swallow, my hand subconsciously covering my heart. “No. I never told him. And it’s not a condition. It’s been fixed.”

  Noah levels me with a look. I shrink back in my chair but voice my point. “Being born with a congenital heart defect isn’t something I advertise.”

  “If he’s going to run with you, it’s something he needs to be aware of. Dalton needs to know what to do in case of an episode.”

  “I’ve cleared this with my cardiologist. He said as long as I keep myself in check, I’ll be fine. And my heart has been strong.”

  “Does Braxton know?”

  “God, no. And he’s not going to. He’d throw a fit, and you know it, regardless of what the doctor says.”

  “Braxton still should know.”

  “My brother wants to keep me in bubble wrap, and you know it. I finally got him to loosen his grip this year. There’s no need for him to know.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “It isn’t really your concern.” That earns me another hard look.

  “I won’t say anything to Braxton as long as you promise to inform Dalton.”

  Knowing that’s my best option, I agree. “Fine, why don’t we announce it over the intercom system while we’re at it.”

  “I’m not unreasonable.”

  “Forgive me if I don’t want my friends treating me differently. It always happens.”

  He’s clenching his fingers so tightly his knuckles turn white. “Are you and Dalton seeing each other?”

  I lean back in my chair and stare at him, his question throwing me off guard. What right does he have to ask? He shelved me into a “don’t touch” corner so many times, so why would he care? “Does it matter?”

  “Answer the question.”

  I narrow my eyes in challenge. “Tell me why it matters.”

  “Because…”

  A tortured look crosses his face as I wait for him to continue. I press further when it becomes apparent he won’t say anything. “That isn’t an answer. Why do you care?”

  “You can be so stubborn.”

  “And you can be an asshole.”

  “Only because I care.” His voice pitches higher.

  “Yeah? Is that why you ignored our first kiss and pretended it didn’t happen because you care so much?” My voice matches his. We’re lucky that no one else is here. A tailspin of emotions swirl in his eyes. Regret. Desire. They tug at his conscience, and I can’t help but wonder which one will win out. He’s trying so hard to fight this between us, but I won’t yield. He’s going to confront what we’re feeling between us.

  The buzzing on the tabletop draws my attention to his cell and straight to Marla’s “where are you?” text. My stomach clenches, but Noah doesn’t reach for his phone. He barely registers the message.

  “Aren’t you going to reply to your girlfriend?” I cringe. Did my voice sound clipped? I think it did.

  His eyes narrow as he takes me in. “I think you know damn well she isn’t my girlfriend.”

  “She seems to think so.”

  “I’ve set her straight many times.”

  Her words “he always caves” flit through my mind. She was so confident when she delivered them as if they slept together recently. I want to vomit and blame my hurt feelings for my next words. “But yet, you always seem to cave to her.”

  “That isn’t true. I stopped sleeping with her last year. Trust me, I’ve turned her down plenty.”

  “Why is that?”

  “She isn’t my weakness. She isn’t who I want.”

  Those pickaxes from earlier transform into fluttering butterflies. Is he saying what I want him to, or what I want to hear? I swallow down the lump, but my voice wavers. “Who do you want?”

  “You, Shannon. Fuck, I want you.”

  His hands are no longer clutched in front of him. Instead, they cup both sides of my face. He stares as a pained expression crosses his features, his eyes pleading for direction. In a strained voice, he rasps, “You need to tell me to stop.”

  “I don’t want you to stop.”

  “Neither do I.”

  I don’t have time to process his words. His mouth brushes against mine ever so softly. Where the last kisses were demanding and lustful, this one is slow as if he’s savoring the feel of my lips upon his. Our he loves me, he loves me not game finally ending, but trust me, this is one girl who doesn’t mind holding the he loves me petal.

  I want to believe this is real. That, this time, he won’t pull away. That he’s all in. He runs his tongue along my lower lip, and I gladly open my mouth to allow him access. His fingers glide along my neck and across my shoulders, all while his tongue dances with mine. Warmth surges through my veins, whipping along the pathways and heating areas that long to be touched. I’m dangerously close to skating the line between maintaining my wits and becoming consumed by Noah. And I’m afraid. So afraid to give myself entirely over because once that line is crossed, I may never return.

  But he feels so damn good.

  My moan reverberates between us as years of pent-up frustration slowly releases. I fist his shirt in my hands, wishing we were anywhere else but in public.

  His moaning sounds tortured as he pulls away. Our heavy pants fill the silence. Noah’s face grows somber as his stare fills with concern. “There’s so much from that night we first kissed that I regret, but getting a small taste of you isn’t one of them.”

  “Then why did you ignore me?”

  “Shannon, I’m not good for you. Can’t you see that? You need to tell me to stop.”

  “I don’t want you to stop.”

  “And I don’t want to hurt you.” He swallows. I watch his Adam’s apple slide up and down. I hear his voice, strained and foreboding, as he says, “But I don’t think I can stay away.”

  “Then quit trying.”

  “What do we do about your brother? He’s not going to like it.”

  “He doesn’t need to know yet.” As much as I’d like to tell Braxton to get bent, Noah’s right. Even though they’ve been best friends forever, Braxton won’t yield. He’ll never understand. “Let’s keep this between us for a while.”

  He nods and rests his forehead against mine. “I’ll do whatever you say, but I hate keeping you a secret. You deserve better than that.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’m sure we won’t have to keep the secret for long.”

  “We’ll stay under the radar then?”

  I nod. The sparkle returns to his eyes as the corners of his mouth lift to a grin.

  “You know you’r
e going to rock that test tomorrow, right?”

  “I feel good.” In more ways than one. “It’s the first time I feel confident about going into a test.”

  “You should. You’ve worked hard.”

  “I have you to thank, ya know. So, thank you for everything.”

  “I’ll always try to be here for you. No matter what happens, I never want to burden you.” His lips find mine again. I don’t try to decode his last sentence. When Braxton finds out, we’ll deal with it. Instead, I lose myself into this kiss and sink into everything Noah.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Shannon

  Life doesn’t work this way. Or it’s not supposed to.

  If there’s one thing my parents instilled in our thought process, it’s hard work equals payoff. I put in my time, skipping plenty of suppers, to make it happen. I did the work. I knew the material. So, why the hell is a C-minus scrawled across the top of my latest algebra test? Two tests remain, and the odds of digging myself from this failing percentage hell goes from bad to worse.

  I stand at my professor’s desk, blinking back the threatening tears. “Is there any extra credit I can do to make up some points?”

  She smiles softly at me. “I don’t mind working with you, and I can tell you’re trying. You increased your score by ten percent.”

  “But it’s not enough.” My whispered words are barely audible.

  “No, but I tell you what. Take the test home, and go over every missed question. Turn it in by Friday, and I’ll give you half a point for every corrected answer. To be fair, I’ll send out an email offering the same to everyone in the class.”

  I force a smile. Some points are better than nothing, providing I can get these corrected. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

  “You’re welcome. Let’s hope our Wildcats have another winning season under their belts. I taught your brother in my calculus class. Wonderful person.”

  I bite back a sigh. Even though I’ve heard praise for Braxton my entire life, I am incredibly proud of him. “I agree. Unfortunately, he took all the brains.”