That she’d described herself struck him, but he played it off. “I’m not sure that woman exists, and even if she did, I’m still probably not going. But thank you for caring.” He did his best to sound sincere.
Aarin took out his keys and opened the driver’s side door. He should leave. But his foot inside, Lydia stopped him.
“I’ll go.”
He paused. “Lydia …” Twice now, he’d used her first name, and it was easier, more comfortable, the second time.
“No, hear me out. I’ve never met anyone like you,” she said, “someone so smart and yet so … self-deprecating. I think, regardless of why they chose you for the award, you need to be there to accept it … for yourself. There’s life after hockey, after …”
Her gaze switched to his hand, and his fingers suddenly felt like lead.
She tipped her chin upward. “If you don’t want to go by yourself, then I will go with you. The date of the ceremony is a week from next Saturday. That gives me plenty of time to find a dress. I’ll come to your place, and we can drive from there.”
He opened his mouth to refuse, the right and wrong of her idea surfing through him, then snapped it shut again. It was one evening in full view of a lot of people, not like anything adverse could possibly happen, and she was right anyhow. His only reason for avoiding it was not showing up by himself, and she’d seen through that.
“If it bugs you, no one needs to know,” she added. “I’ll say it’s book related.”
A lie? He wouldn’t allow her to lie for him. “If anyone asks, tell the truth.” The fact he’d just agreed to her idea dropped warm inside, lighting a tiny flicker of what felt like hope.
CHAPTER 4
Laughter rippled around the room, smiles rising on the students’ faces, and Professor Kai paused, humor in his eyes.
Karen leaned into Lydia’s ear, her voice lowered. “He’s so funny.”
Lydia’s own smile grew. Funny and gentle and incredibly sweet, but somehow, still, hard on himself. Her mood wavered. She liked him a lot, as a teacher and, what bothered her right now, as a friend.
School had cut into their time working on the new curriculum. She’d missed their last scheduled meeting to write a last-minute report for her philosophy class. They’d met once more at the Center, Aarin providing dinner as he’d done the last time. It’d been so … nice, their chatter cheerful and laid back. Like friends.
Was that wrong? Was she not supposed to be his friend? Worse, was it good or bad that she’d been so eager to attend the award ceremony? She’d pushed him to it. How much of his agreement was from her pressure?
Shaking the thought free, she concentrated, once more, on his voice.
“That was one of the best examples,” Aarin continued. “Thank you, Mr. Pescone.” He nodded toward the student in question. “Never thought I’d hear War and Peace in modern slang. Which brings me to the next part of this assignment.” He tossed the paper he’d been reading onto a stack of others. “We’ve looked at dialogue creatively. But now, I want you to relocate a story. What happens if you write the Red Badge of Courage in another era? This will require more thought, so I’m giving you two weeks. And …” A smile remained on his lips, yet his gaze grew stern. “Thank you to the group who made Pride and Prejudice into erotica … not what I intended. Let’s keep this clean and please note how your trick reflects in your grade.”
He waved his hands. “Dismissed.”
Lydia stood and gathered her things, stuffing her folder in her bag, then slung it over her shoulder and followed Karen into the aisle. She glanced back at Aarin briefly, and his gaze met hers. He nodded once. She sucked in a breath, her lip folded between her teeth, then dashed toward the door.
Karen held it open for her and they squeezed out, heading left down the corridor. “Hey, I wanted to ask …”
She cast Lydia a nervous glance, and for a moment, she feared what Karen wanted to say would be about Aarin.
“You opposed to a double date?” Karen halted and released a breath. “I guess I should have said that a little more delicately. But I’ve met this guy …” Her cheeks pinked. “The only good thing to come out of Advanced Calculus. But anyhow … He asked me out, but I’m super nervous. I suggested I had a friend, and we could go as pairs …”
Lydia’s throat tightened. A date. She liked Karen, considered her one of her closest friends here, so to refuse would be cruel. And questionable. She could say she had to study, but she never wanted to be known as the book nerd. Refusing could also draw interest to her time with Aarin, especially since this was Karen.
That she called him by his first name now was largely because he’d done the same, but it felt … cozy. She could hardly continue to refer to him as Mr. Kai when they were alone. Nor let their new friendship cut into her social life.
“I promise … Well, as much as I can … that it’ll be fun,” Karen continued. “Dalton, that’s his name, says his friend, Scott, is free and super nice. Oh, wait …” Her eyes spread. “It’s on Friday. You aren’t … seeing Mr. Kai, are you?”
Yes. But though the word leaped onto her tongue, Lydia didn’t speak it. A normal girl going to college would not refuse a night out to work with her professor.
“I’m sure I can get out of it. Like I said, he’s got so much of it in hand.” The irony of that statement stabbed her with guilt. But, once more, she released it.
“So that’s a yes? Oh, I so owe you …” Karen’s made a small hop. “You won’t regret this. I promise. Not like we can keep mooning over Mr. Kai, though he’s still a dream.” She stepped ahead. “I’m half-tempted to take his class again next year.”
Lydia released a nervous laugh.
“Hey … I wonder why he doesn’t have a girlfriend. I don’t suppose he’s ever said?”
Lydia’s nervousness escalated. “Not a word,” she replied. “He’s very private. We mostly talk about books.”
“Figures,” Karen said. “Still, she’d be lucky, whoever she was.”
Aarin held the front door of his home open for Lydia to enter, and she squeezed past him into the foyer. He inhaled just then, and a whiff of fruity perfume lifted from her skin. Unthinking, a compliment fell out. “You smell nice.”
She paused turning in place. A smile slowly formed. “Thanks, it’s some fragrance I borrowed from Karen.” At his puzzled expression, she knit her brows. “Karen Parks, in class?”
The face of the girl fit into place, and he gave a nod. “Right.”
Attractive girl. Average student. He’d had better, those like Lydia, and he’d had worse.
“I appreciate you coming here tonight,” he said. “I wanted to secure a conference room again, but they were full. Hopefully …” He glanced out the window. “It won’t rain tonight.” Though that’d turned out okay, and being truthful, he’d enjoyed having someone here to talk to.
She began to remove her coat, and he leapt forward, taking it from her. His gaze fell on the nape of her neck and black curls brushing her collar. In the next second, he looked aside, draping her coat over the couch.
“No …” He reached for her before she could sit. “We’re going to eat first.”
Lydia’s brow wrinkled.
“Nothing fancy, I promise, but I got to thinking, no one is ever here to sit at the table with me …” His hand light on her arm, he steered her gently across the room, a certain amount of nervousness forming. Guiding her through the dining room doorway, he came to a halt, and she made a short gasp.
“Aarin …” Her hand at her throat, she looked over her shoulder.
It struck him she’d used his first name and not “Mr. Kai”, but then, he’d done the same thing days ago. He smiled, uncertainly. “Okay, maybe it is too much.”
He’d almost added candles as well, then decided that was too intimate. But he hadn’t been able to talk himself out of using the fine china stored in the back of the cabinet. He’d bought the set, thinking to impress a girl he’d dated five years ago, but the
relationship had died before he had the chance.
“Did you cook?” she asked.
That question made him feel guilty for his efforts, but spaghetti and meatballs was one of the few dishes he knew how to do and, for once, here was someone worth making it for.
“I did, but honestly, it’s not a big deal. I can boil water easily enough, and the meatballs I had left from the last time I made them. It was only a matter of thawing them out.”
She stared up at him. “I wasn’t asking you to apologize. Thank you for going through so much trouble. It reminds me of home.”
Aarin pulled out her seat, waiting for her to sit, then pushed her into the table and took a place directly opposite. “Tell me about home.”
She shook out her napkin and laid it in her lap. “Well, I guess you noticed I’m not fresh out of high school. Truth is, I live with my grandmother. My dad is out of the picture. My mother passed a few years ago of cancer.”
His brow wrinkled. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Lydia offered him a grateful glance. “Thanks. Things are tight for my grandmother financially, which is why I tried for the scholarship. Winning it was amazing, but …” She paused. “I miss my mom every day. She was so full of wisdom, and more than once, since enrolling, I’ve wanted to ask her things.”
“Like?”
Cutting a bite of a meatball, Lydia took the time to taste it before replying. “This is very good.”
He smiled.
“Like … if I took the right classes, who to make friends with, those kinds of things.” She took another bite.
“Did you … take the right classes?”
“I think so, definitely yours.”
That made him happy, but at the same time, strangely, gave him doubts. Aarin looked at the meal he’d prepared, the decorations he’d used. He’d meant well with all of it, just wanted to be nice, but was unsure of the impression it gave. He’d fought hard to work with her and meant every word he’d said about his intentions. But he had to ask now … how did Lydia view it?
He ceased his questions to eat the meal. Afterward, he did his best to clean up, though Lydia, naturally, tried to help, and he was thankful for that. They moved to the living room and set to work, sorting material, making notes. He was pleased with progress and, a couple hours later, sat back with a groan.
Her behavior grew nervous then, fidgety. He offered to get her a drink, but she declined, rising and wandering to the window. He let her, not saying anything, and eventually, she turned.
“I … I hate to do this, but I … sort of promised … to go with Karen … on … on a date.” Her cheeks flushed. “I mean, on her date. No, that’s not right either. It’s a double date, a blind one, and I …” Lydia exhaled. “I need out of Friday’s work time.”
Surprised, Aarin, made no response. Asking her to give up every Friday night was unfair. Though there weren’t that many years between them, they were at different places in life. Of course, she’d want to go out with her friends and date some lucky guy. Just the same, all those arguments in his mind, part of him wanted to protest, and that was even more astonishing and, once more, made him consider his motives.
“But don’t think this will get you out of Saturday,” she said, seeming to gather herself. “You’re going to be there to accept the award.”
He gazed at her a moment longer, then stood. “I wouldn’t think of it,” he said. In fact, he’d begun to look forward to it. He hadn’t talked to his hockey buddies in quite some time. He had considered what they might say about Lydia, but decided to tackle that when it happened.
Lydia shuffled her feet and glanced toward the door. “I guess I should go.”
He nodded, though regret sat in the pit of his stomach. He followed her to the door, holding it while she went to her car and climbed behind the wheel. She made an attempt to crank, but the only sound that came from her engine was a click. Aarin exited and walked to the driver’s side door.
Lydia opened it. “I think my battery is dead.” In her next breath, she got out again. Standing there, face to face, neither one spoke for the longest time. “Something keeps trying to keep us together,” she said, her voice in almost a whisper. “I …”
Whatever she’d been going to say, she didn’t, but Aarin filled in the blanks. He didn’t dare speak it, however, instead, nodding toward his truck. “I’ll run you back. I can try to charge it in the morning.”
Lydia stared at him a little longer, then reached inside for her purse.
Karen would not stop talking about Dalton and their date Friday. Lydia didn’t really blame her for that, but couldn’t quite bring herself to feel the same eagerness. Instead, she kept thinking about Aarin’s expression when she’d asked, the disappointment in his gaze. Then there was what she almost said to him, a lot of talk about her feelings and their friendship that she’d completely chickened out of admitting.
Come Thursday afternoon, the whole thing was bothering her more than it should, and she decided to do something spur-of-the-moment in the hopes it would relieve the pressure. She’d gone shopping the day before and purchased a dress and shoes for Saturday’s banquet, using the student credit card she’d gotten. She used it again, Thursday night, to purchase ingredients for a pot of soup she used to make at home.
She drove toward Aarin’s place, growing more nervous with every mile. What if he wasn’t home? What if he was too busy? What if her overture was misunderstood?
But what was there to misunderstand? She wanted to return the favor he’d done for her. Twice, he’d provided a nice meal. Clearly, he enjoyed having company, so she shouldn’t expect that to change now.
She spotted his truck in the drive long before she arrived and a sense of relief washed over her, only to have it lift the instant she parked. Her fingers shaking, she stilled them curling them in her lap and drew in a deep breath before exiting and retrieving the grocery bags.
The wait for him to answer the door when she knocked seemed interminable, the seconds passing like hours, her stomach twisting this way and that.
But finally, he pulled it open, and his eyes widened. “Lydia?”
She put on a boldness she didn’t quite feel. “I hope you’re free because I got it in my head to cook this, and I need someone to taste test it for me.”
A smile fastened on his lips, and he reversed, waving her in. She walked past him toward the kitchen, dropping the bags in the center of the island. She heard him walk up behind and had the strongest urge to turn, but wasn’t sure what to do if she did and so kept herself facing forward.
“It’s been a while since I’ve made this recipe, and I’m going entirely by memory.” She lifted a plastic-wrapped package of chicken breasts from one bag. “I also hope you like spicy foods because from my recollection this will light you up.”
He chuckled. “Spicy’s fine. Anything I can do?”
She shook her head. “No, you leave it all to me.”
He provided fun conversation, however, easing the discomfort she’d felt on the way over, and an hour later, she spooned two bowls full and carried them into the dining room. He’d set the table while she finished up and held her chair as he’d done on Tuesday.
“This is amazing,” he said. “I feel so pampered.”
Lydia smiled, her spoon held aloft. “That was my intent … and maybe to treat myself to something good as well. No offense to the college, but I’m tired of sandwiches and things involving gravy.”
Aarin’s laughter warmed her heart, justifying her reason for coming.
“There’s plenty left over,” she said. “I’ll put it up for you in the freezer. All you’ll have to do is take one container out and warm it.”
“You’re spoiling me,” he replied.
She nodded and took another bite. She’d thought no further than the meal when planning to come, and so afterward, the dishes washed, the kitchen cleaned, wasn’t sure how to proceed. They didn’t have books to work on, though that was her first thought.
He solved things, pointing toward the TV. “I don’t watch much, but maybe we can find something …”
This seemed like a good solution, so they sat, taking spots on either end of the couch.
“Oh, I used to watch a lot of that show,” she said, when he paused on one channel. The crime drama showed police officers bending over a victim’s body, lights flashing in the background. “Seems like it’s always on rerun now.”
Aarin set the remote to the side, and they watched in silence. The scene cut to another, detectives talking about who might have committed it, then a third scene, this one, a college student caught on campus walking between classes.
You and Professor Wayne spent a lot of time together, one of the detectives stated.
No more than normal, the girl replied. Look, I’m going to be late for class. She hugged her books tightly to her chest and made to pass him.
But he grasped her arm. Just a few more questions.
The girl paused.
We heard there were a lot of late nights. We don’t blame you for being his friend, the detective said, but maybe things went further than that?
The tension in the room grew thick. Aarin finally broke it, clearing his throat. He reached for the remote and switched the TV off. “I’d rather talk,” he said. “Never did care for TV too much.”
Lydia forced a smile to her face that she didn’t entirely feel. “Talking’s good. There’s nothing wrong with two people spending time in conversation. Maybe you can tell me about these hockey friends of yours ….”
He didn’t reply right away, then his lips curved, and he settled back. “Hope you have time then because this story’s going to be longer than usual.”
Longer was good. She liked hearing his voice, liked being here with him, and saw nothing wrong with either one. Pushing the TV show from her mind, Lydia leaned back, her feet tucked beneath her, and concentrated on his face. Soon, all that was in her mind were his stories, the joy he had in telling them, and the ease of their rapport.
Sunshine In The Morning (Spring-Summer Romance Book 1) Page 4