by Cathryn Fox
As soon as the word wet leaves my lips, her cheeks flush with color, and my cock thickens, because it has its own ideas regarding Maize getting wet. Lots of ideas played out in my head last night—none of them PG—forcing me to take my cock into my hand as I pictured it deep in her throat, her pretty pink lips wrapped tight around my girth. Did she touch herself, and think of me? I snort, because if she was thinking of me, she was probably dreaming up all the ways she wanted to neuter me.
“I’m fine,” she says, her chin inching up a bit more. “I have a raincoat and I covered my boot. I could have walked.”
“And I can drive you. Besides, shouldn’t you be resting it more?” She opens her mouth like she’s going to protest, and I shake my head. “Might as well get used to me doing things for you, Maize. You’re mine, remember.”
“I remember,” she says putting a scowl on her face, but there’s something beneath it, just below the surface, and I can’t help but wonder if there is a part of her that likes the idea of being mine. A little sound catches in my throat. Maybe I’m the one with the concussion. Maize does not like me much. “But it’s not like that with us. This is about me earning my tuition, and that doesn’t mean you get to boss me around.”
“I get it, you don’t like to be told what to do.” I pull her close, and don’t miss the tightening of her body as I guide her down the steps to the passenger side of my Jeep. I open the door, and wave my hand. “But that probably isn’t going to stop me from trying.” Her gaze jerks to me. “Hop in.”
She stands there for a second, the pink stain on her cheeks growing brighter, her anger thick in the air. “I’m getting in because it’s raining, not because you just told me to.”
I laugh at that. “Maize, you’re killing me.”
“Good,” she says and lifts her head high and sets her purse on the floor at her feet. I shut her door, and keep my eye on her as I circle the front and climb in.
I buckle in and note the way she’s shifting, trying to get her foot situated on the floor. “Comfortable?”
She nods. “Not really. Hard to get comfortable with this thing on. I’ll be glad to get it off my foot. It’s itchy.”
I start the vehicle, and turn on the wipers. “How much longer do you have to wear it?”
She crinkles her nose. “I have an appointment in a couple of weeks to have my ankle checked.” Her head tilts and she glances out the window, but I don’t need to see her face to know she’s upset by all this. Why the hell wouldn’t she be, and I don’t think the word upset is strong enough to describe what she has to be feeling. Guilt prowls through my blood, as I glance over my shoulder and back out of her driveway.
“I really am sorry,” I say. “I’ll take you to that appointment.”
“You don’t have to do that.” Her head swivels my way, and her brow arches. “It’s not like you did it on purpose.”
I eye her, take in her raised brows. “Why did that sound like a question?”
She exhales. “It wasn’t. I don’t think.”
“I’d never take you down on purpose, Maize.”
She swallows and the sound is loud in the Jeep, barely drowned out by the swishing wipers. “Yeah, I guess.”
I catch the fast flicker of her eyelashes. Jesus, she won’t even look at me. Is there a part of her that thinks I did it on purpose, as some ploy to get her to be my sugar baby? I don’t want this any more than she does. I shake my head and concentrate on the wet road. It’s obvious she doesn’t trust me, and why would she? There is a part of her that thinks I was behind the incident in the closet that got her bounced from the mean girl club—clearly, she was never going to be a part of it. Truthfully, I hate that she went through any of the pain that went with their pranks, and the resulting rumors. Those girls weren’t nice then, and they’re not nice now, and whether she knows it or not, she’s undoubtedly a much better person for not hanging with them. I could tell her that, but there is no way she’d believe me—and does it matter? We’re adults now, and she’s going to believe what she wants, and nothing I say or do is going to change that.
Onward and upward we go.
I come to the intersection, and take a right, instead of a left, and she looks around. “Did you forget your way home?”
“Nope.”
She reaches into her backpack, and pulls out a tube. The scent of vanilla fills the vehicle as she swipes it over those lush lips of hers. “Then where are we going?”
“Out for breakfast.”
She recaps her lip balm, and tosses it into her purse. “I thought you wanted me to cook for you.”
I gesture toward her foot. “With that ankle?”
“Christian,” she says, her eyes dark and fiery. “I thought we were going to treat this like a job. I’m not just taking money from you. If that’s what you think, pull over.” She reaches for the handle of the door, stubborn as hell, but I like that she’s not a pampered princess like the girls who hang out with us ballers.
“I know. I know.” I hold one hand up, palm out to calm her. “I made a list, but I have been craving eggs benedict.”
She squares her shoulders, but her hand drops from the handle. “I could have made them, you know.”
“Yeah, I know but Julep Café is the best.” I turn the radio down, and press defog to keep the windows clear as the rain falls harder and her anger steams up the inside of the vehicle.
“Well, mine probably wouldn’t have been as good,” she admits. “I’ve never made them before, but I could have tried.”
I like that about her, that she’s not afraid to try new things, and no, I am not going to spend a second thinking about some of the things I could try with her. I flick on my signal light, and go up the ramp to get on the expressway. “Have you ever eaten at Julep?”
“Nope, never even heard of it. Where is it?”
“Over in Oceanside Park.”
Her brows bunch. “That’s two towns over. I’m sure we could have found a place near the college.”
“You wait and see. It’s worth the drive. I found it one day when I just needed to escape the frat house.”
“I never took you for a loner.”
I shrug. “Sometimes. The frat can be a little much. Guys and their girls coming and going from the place all hours.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” she says, and I don’t miss the hitch in her voice.
“Believe me, it’s not a place you want to hang out.”
“I never said it was. The only reason I was going there this morning was to cook your breakfast.”
I take a moment to digest her words, the little lost look on her face. What is going on in that pretty head of hers?
“Speaking of your breakfast.” She stares out the window, and doesn’t look at me when she says, “Did you bring your list?”
I reach into my team jacket and hand over a crumpled sheet of paper. She smooths it out, and I cringe. “Sorry about the messy handwriting.”
“So cooking, tidying your room, washing your Jeep…” Her gaze lifts to mine, like she’s totally unimpressed so far.
“When your ankle is better, of course.”
“Of course,” she says all sassy like. She continues to read. “Make your bed every morning. Are you serious? I have early morning classes.”
“Doesn’t have to be first thing in the morning. You can come after classes.”
“How kind of you.” She rolls her eyes. “I guess I’m your maid.” She drops her hand, the sheet of paper on her lap. “I am not wearing a French maid outfit or anything stupid like that.”
“You can wear what you want.”
She glares at me for another second and goes back to reading. “You want us to do our homework together? This is ridiculous, Christian. Why would we do homework together?”
“I’m not asking you to do it, like some of the guys do, but we should do it together in case I need help. You’re smart, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, you are too, so don’t pretend
you’re just another dumb jock. You’re anything but.”
I cock my brow. “How do you know that?”
She stiffens. “I just do.” When I stare at her, wanting her to expand on that knowledge, she says, “Girls talk about stuff.”
“Yeah, or maybe you’ve been checking me out.” I have no idea why I enjoy rattling her. Maybe because it pulls her out of her comfort zone, and gets her to loosen up a little. She’s always so serious, so on the straight and narrow—like I should be.
“As if. God, you have such a big ego.”
“Is that what you heard?”
“It’s what I know. Look, I hear things okay. I’m going into law school, and you’re doing a degree in sports management. You’re going to be a professional football player. We don’t have any of the same courses, or anything in common. It’s ridiculous for us to study together, and I couldn’t do your homework even if I wanted to. I know nothing about sports science. I’m not even good in science.”
“I think there might have been a compliment in there,” I laugh.
She shrugs. “Science is hard and we wouldn’t study well together.”
I lean into her, and her chest rapidly rises as she sucks in air, and lets it out quickly, like my closeness somehow affects her. “How would you know that when we know nothing about each other.”
“I just do, and for the record, I hate football.”
Tension arcs between us, and rattles my dick. I lean back, putting a measure of distance between us. “That’s a surprise, considering how much you watch the practices when you run.”
“I do not,” she shoots back. “Wait, if you know that, then it would imply that you watch me.” She puckers her lips and does a little bobblehead thing, looking at me like I’m a rat backed into a corner.
I simply answer with, “Maybe I do,” which totally makes her jaw drop open.
I grin at her and she quickly pulls herself together and gives an unladylike snort. “You’ve got me all wrong. I’m not watching any practices.”
“Because you don’t like football, or because you don’t like me.”
She folds her arms. “Exactly.”
I can’t help but laugh out loud, and I swear to God, everything in me wants to change her mind. But to what end? She’s a good girl who wants to go on to law school, and we live very different lives. I’m not about to pull out all the stops to get her to like me, only to fuck off once college is over, because I’m not a guy who could give her more. Not that she’s looking for more. No, Maize Malone is a girl on a mission, and I don’t think a man, children, or any picket fence play into her future plans, so best I keep things the way they are and let her hate me. I can’t help but wonder what made her all work and no play, though.
We fall quiet, and I tap my thumb on the steering wheel as I listen to the music. Forty-five minutes later, my stomach is grumbling loudly as I pull into the parking lot of Julep Café. I can almost taste the eggs benny now. I unbuckle and she seems a bit hesitant.
“Everything okay?”
“Christian…” she begins and nervously wraps her purse strap around her fingers, and that’s when it hits me.
Shit, making her feel poor, like she’s in a place where she doesn’t belong is the last thing I meant to do. Christ, sometimes I can be a real dick. “This one is on me. I want you to taste the best eggs benny in the world so you’ll be able to replicate them.” She eyes me like she doesn’t believe that for a minute. “This really is about me, and not you. I’m kind of self-centered sometimes.”
That brings a smile to her face. “As long as you know it.”
I laugh and it lightens the tension between us. The rain has let up a bit by the time we step out of the vehicle, so I leave the umbrella and circle the Jeep to meet Maize. I put my hand on the small of her back to lead her to the café, and don’t miss the way my body reacts, or the way hers quivers beneath my touch. Is that repulsion, or something else entirely?
Doesn’t matter, dude, you’re keeping your hands to yourself with this one.
“I know you can walk by yourself, but believe it or not my mother raised a gentleman.” More like my grandmother. My mother didn’t spend a whole lot of time with me.
She lets out a loud ‘hmph’ sound and casts me a disbelieving stare. Right, she thinks I pulled my pants down in the closet to get with her, and made her the laughing stock of Sweetwater High.
I open the door to the café and lead her in. A few minutes later, we’re seated by the window, with a nice view of the back garden where they grow their fresh herbs. She glances around, a small smile on her face, and for some weird reason, I’m glad I was able to put it there. I don’t think this girl has had an easy go at life, and I made things worse for her.
“This place is really nice. How did you discover it again?”
“I needed a break from the frat house.” I stretch out, and my leg touches hers. She sits up a bit straighter, a look on her face that speaks of agony. “Shoot, sorry, did I hurt your foot.”
She takes a fast sip on her water. “No, it was my other one. So, you were saying…”
“The house has fifteen guys, and it’s always noisy and there are parties going on.” I rake my hand through my hair. “Sometimes it’s all just too much, you know.”
“My house is pretty quiet. Of course, it’s off-campus living, and most of the girls work part time jobs. With my track, and the time it takes, I’m not able to work.”
“You like it there?”
She curls her ponytail around her fingers. “It’d be great if the landlord wasn’t a deadbeat. The pipes break all the time, and the windows leak. In the winter, it’s freezing. I’d plug in my electric blanket, but only half my outlets work and I’m afraid to plug in an extension cord. Last year, there was a small electrical fire that woke us, but we were lucky to put it out before the place burned down and we went with it.”
My heart thumps in my chest. “Jesus, are you serious?” She nods and my mind races as I ask, “Who is your landlord?”
She leans forward and puts her chin in her palm. The flecks of yellow in her eyes are bright beneath the overhead light. “He owns a lot of the houses in the area actually, and never answers any of our calls.”
Anger burns through my blood. No one deserves to live like that. He’s putting lives at risk here. “You need to sue his ass.”
She shrugs, and shakes her head, like the effort would prove futile. “I have one year left, and once I become a lawyer, maybe I will.”
“Give me his name. I’ll have a talk with him.”
“I’m not going to do that, Christian.” She shakes her head, like the idea is ludicrous, and maybe even a little amusing. “My problems are mine, not yours.”
I lean in. “Are you forgetting that you’re mine now, Maize? I plan to take care of you. That’s how this works.”
“That’s not how it’s going to work for us, remember? Tit for tat.” She shakes her head. “I mean…”
Her voice falls off when the waitress comes, and she smiles when she sees me. “Christian, nice to see you. It’s been a while.”
“Nice to see you too, Nancy. Back for my fourth year, and have been dying to get back here,” I say to the elderly lady with short silver hair who treats me like the grandson she never had. I know that because she told me all about her daughters, and granddaughters.
“And who do you have with you today?” she asks, and adjusts her glasses as she takes in Maize with a wide smile.
“This is my friend Maize.” I put my hand by my head and mimic an explosion. “We’re going to blow her mind today.”
“I take it two orders of eggs benny, then?”
“You know it.”
She winks at Maize who smiles back as she collects the menus. “Right back with some coffee for you both.” She tosses me a wink before leaving and I get it. She thinks Maize is my girl. In a sense, I guess she is, sort of.
Her eyes dance with questions. “You must really be a regular.”
>
I shrug it off. “Like I said, it’s my spot to come to when I need some quiet time.”
“You bring all your girlfriends here?” As soon as that question leaves her mouth, she puts her hands up. “I’m sorry, that’s none of my business. I don’t know why I asked. Ignore me. I don’t think I’ve had enough coffee yet.”
“No, I don’t bring any girlfriends here. I don’t really have girlfriends,” I admit honestly.
“Yeah, right.” she shoots back. “I’ve seen the way the girls look at you, and the way the cheerleaders are all over you, getting piggybacks after every game.”
“So what was that you said about not watching me?” Her face turns red, and I grin, letting her know I’m simply teasing her. “It’s okay, I know why you do it, Maize.”
“Why?” she asks, “And again, for the record, I don’t watch you.”
“You do it because you’re still trying to figure out how to get me back from the closet incident.”
She stares at me for a moment, and the corners of her mouth twitch. “I’m not much into revenge, but for the record, I guess there was a time or two in high school I considered running you over with my friend Ryan’s car.”
“For the record,” I say in return, feeling a strange wave of possession as she talks about this guy named Ryan that she clearly knows well enough to borrow his car, “I don’t have girlfriends, and I don’t date, but I do fuck.”
My crassness totally takes her off guard. She looks down, considers it for a moment and nods. “I guess there’s nothing wrong with that, and at least you’re honest about it with the girls, right?”
Just then, I glance up and see a couple of guys from a different fraternity enter. I lean forward and duck my head.
“What’s wrong?” Maize asks.
“I don’t know what those assholes are doing here.”
She turns and sees the guys taking a seat, two tables over. “You don’t like them.”
“I like my privacy,” I say.
“Oh, right.” Her shoulders round, as she sinks into herself. Jesus, does she think I don’t want to be seen with her.
“This is about me, not you,” I quickly tell her. She nods but I’m not one-hundred percent sure she believes me.