“I’m sorry,” I lamely say.
Carter’s still looking at the pictures. “Not your fault.” He finally turns, but doesn’t meet my gaze. “Let’s go eat.”
I follow him out of our room and wonder what other heartache the man has experienced in his life. Only eight years older than me, and he’s already lived a lifetime.
Whereas I’m still feeling like I’m nowhere close to getting my shit together.
I do know that, when I grow up, I want to be like Carter.
Chapter Six
I fall in love with Susannah Joleen Evans the first day we meet, on our first day of classes. Not some love at first sight bullshit because of her looks, either. Although, yes, I think she’s beautiful.
That’s not what seals my fate.
We share a class, the three of us. Florida Politics & Government. I don’t know it at the time, but Susa is working on a mass com major with a poli sci minor, with her eye on a Stetson law degree. Carter and I have two classes together this semester, this one, and Introduction to the Social Sciences.
This one is a Monday-Wednesday-Friday morning class that starts at nine. When Carter and I arrive about twenty minutes before the first class is scheduled to begin on Monday, we practically have our choice of seating. Carter chooses a desk in the back of the room, the desk closest to the far corner. Then he moves his desk so it’s positioned against the wall. He even angles it so it’s facing out toward the room.
When he spots me watching him, he shrugs. “Don’t like sitting with my back to a room or a door. Force of habit.”
I don’t ask because I more than suspect it has something to do with his time in the Army, the scars covering his back like a topographical map of the Andes, and his nightmares. Friday night’s dinner pops into mind, how he specifically requested the booth in back after glancing around the restaurant, and had sat facing the room.
But since I would prefer to sit next to him, I take the desk next to him, to his right and between him and the door. I slide it back against the wall and a little closer to him so we can more easily talk.
She walks in about five minutes later and I notice her immediately. She briefly pauses in the doorway and scans the room, no hesitation in her manner when she heads directly for where Carter and I are sitting. And it’s not that there are no other seats—the room’s still over half empty.
Yet she offers us a smile as she approaches. “Mind if I sit here?” she points to the desk that would be in front of Carter if he hadn’t moved his desk all the way into the corner. Now, that desk is sort of positioned on his left side.
Blue eyes that look like they could flash-freeze you, or form a warm, sunny summer sky. Her longish brown hair is pulled back at the nape of her neck with an elastic band in a casual ponytail. Jeans and a loose blouse can’t hide the fact that the watch on her wrist is likely worth more than my car and Carter’s put together. Not flashy, but definitely money. Nails not so long they’ll slow her typing tip long, graceful fingers, and are perfectly coated in a shimmery teal blue. Subtle makeup on a face that doesn’t need it.
Carter shrugs, and something in my heart pulls tight and makes me nod, too. Mostly because Carter’s nodded, but also because there’s something…confident about her. In a quiet way, though, reminding me a lot of Carter.
“Thanks.” Before she unshoulders her backpack she grabs the desk and angles it the way Carter did, parallel to his and backed against the wall.
Maybe it’s my imagination, but while Carter watches her it almost seems like a dark cloud flits across his face, shadowing his eyes for the briefest moment. As he glances my way again he quickly schools his features.
She produces a spiral notebook and a tablet from her backpack, along with the course’s main textbook. Instead of chatting non-stop with us like I thought she might, she takes out a pen and opens the text, skimming through it.
Carter and I had been discussing what to make for dinner. Since he’s offered to teach me how to cook I’m not stupid enough to turn him down. Especially after the weekend’s breakfast offerings.
The other guys in our quad pod are now looking at him like he’s a god.
We return to our discussion. Carter had been in the middle of describing a Greek dish to me that sounded delicious. My mother never offered to teach me how to cook. Any time I asked to help, she ran me out of the kitchen.
I’m not going to lie and say I wasn’t starved for some positive attention, because I was. Even if it means following my older roommate around like a needy puppy.
I’ll take it. Not like Carter or I have girlfriends or jobs. We’re both full-time students with goals, and the more time I spend with the man, the more I like him. The more I feel…drawn to his calm nature. Like the world could be ending and he wouldn’t break a sweat.
I felt like that even before I learned he was a literal hero.
I don’t think the woman is paying either of us any attention when she speaks five minutes later. “My dolmades will knock your socks off.”
I stare at her. “Pardon?”
Carter’s silently watching her again.
She doesn’t look our way. “Dolmades. That’s what you’re talking about making, right? And I make a mean tzatziki sauce.” She finally glances at me with those incredible blue eyes before her gaze lands on Carter. “You make your moussaka, I’ll make the rest and provide the kitchen and the groceries. Tonight?”
I am incapable of letting the growing, tense silence sit for too long and I don’t even know why. “You don’t even know us. Why do you want to cook with us?”
She finally turns to face us, and her gaze swivels to and settles on me. “I broke up with my boyfriend, Kendall, three weeks ago, before he headed out to France with his family. He’s due back this evening. I know the first place he’s going to stop is my house. I would appreciate some…backup. I can hit the grocery store near me. They have everything we’ll need. I’ll buy. I should be able to get you guys out of there by midnight. He won’t take much convincing. He’s a damn idiot.”
I can’t pull my attention off her. Next to me, I’m aware of Carter shifting position in his chair.
“You don’t have any older brothers who’ll take care of this for you?” he asks. “Or your dad?”
“Please. My dad will ruin his life. I don’t want that, I only want him gone. He’s not dangerous, just annoying as fuck.”
“He doesn’t have a gun?”
“He hates guns. I’m more dangerous with a ball point pen than he is with a gun. He’d shoot his own damn head off with it.”
I realize I’m watching this like a tennis match. Carter settles back in his desk, arms crossed over his chest. “How would your father ruin his life?”
She smirks. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“No.”
Her full-on smile melts me. “Susannah Joleen Evans, daughter of State Senator Benchley Evans. Former Hillsborough County commissioner, former state rep, and the spine and brain stem of the Florida GOP. You can call me Susa.”
I’m mesmerized. I’ve heard her father’s name before, bandied about between my mother, step-father, and their friends.
As someone that my step-father respects—and sort of fears.
“How old are you?” Carter asks instead of responding with his name.
“Turned nineteen last week.”
“You’re not living in a dorm?”
“No. Daddy bought me a house in New Tampa. He and Momma live up in Tallahassee full-time, even though they still have the house in Tampa. I wanted to live in a dorm. Really wanted to be on my own, finally. Had it all booked and everything. So, of course, Daddy threw a shit-fit and called the university president himself. Next thing I know, a real estate agent is calling me and begging to show me houses, and Daddy’s given him a budget to work with. That was Daddy’s compromise—my own house, or live at home. And I did not want to drive in from Brandon every day.”
Holy. Shit.
Carter loo
ks at me and I realize he and I already have some sort of spooky silent communication going on. Spooky in a good way. I perfectly understand that his slightly arched eyebrows are a question. He’s waiting on me to say yes or no.
I’m useless in a fight, unless it’s exchanging snarky Facebook comments and memes.
I shrug. It’s up to you.
Carter slowly nods. “Okay. You have yourself a deal.” When he shakes with her I feel a little jealous, but now I’m not sure if it’s because someone’s intruding on my time with Carter…or because I want to shake her hand, too, and Carter got to do it first.
Then she offers me her hand.
Her grip is surprisingly firm and she looks into my eyes when we shake.
I’m…gone.
“Carter needs to take the lead,” I stupidly say, closing my mouth before I accidentally spill any of his secrets or make myself look like more of an idiot than I already have.
Her focus returns to him, her head cocked, appraising him. “Why’s that?”
“I have…experience,” he says, smiling.
* * * *
We don’t get to talk for much longer because the instructor arrives and class starts soon after. Halfway through the class, Susa gets into a discussion with the instructor that basically silences the whole room as she comes back at him with facts and figures I damn sure know aren’t in my fucking textbook.
The instructor is maybe in his fifties and crosses his arms over his chest. “And how, exactly, did you come by all this knowledge?”
I can’t tell if he’s being condescending or genuinely curious, but I do see the way Carter’s now watching Susa.
Reappraising her.
A desperate need for them to like each other thrums through me.
“Because Daddy helped write that bill, for starters. He’s the ‘Evans’ in question in the full title.” She sits back, a playful smirk on her face, tapping her pen against the desk, her legs crossed and one foot bouncing a little. “And I was standing right there in Gov. Alexander’s office when he signed the dang thing. Somewhere, I have the pen he used. He gave it to me.”
The instructor’s eyes widen. “You’re Senator Benchley Evans’ daughter?”
She lifts her chin a little. “I’m Susannah Evans,” she says. “And I’m going to make a name for myself, thank you very much.”
Somehow, I believe she’s absolutely right. I hope I’m there to see her do it in person.
By the end of class there’s a couple of things I know for certain—she’s nearly two years younger than me, acts older than Carter, and seems to have a brain that can run circles around both of us and the instructor.
Am I turned on?
Hell, yeah.
I also know she’s way out of my class, so to speak.
At the end of class, she holds out her hand for Carter’s phone. He passes it to her after unlocking it, and she plugs her name and address into it, then texts her phone from it.
With a playful smile, she returns it. “Can you be there by five? I’ll go shopping on the way home. Anything special you need for your moussaka, or can I get what I usually get?”
“Whatever you usually get,” he says, studying her.
She gives him a playful smirk. “What are your names? You never introduced yourselves.”
“Carter Wilson.”
She looks my way. “Owen Taylor.”
“Carter. Owen.” She’s already packed her stuff. “See y’all at five, then. Feel free to bring laptops or textbooks or whatever. I’ll be happy to tutor y’all for free in this class.” She drops us a wink before she heads out, leaving both of us watching her.
At the same time, Carter and I turn and our gazes meet.
I feel a wall go up in him, just a subtle way he shifts position. “Looks like we have dinner covered,” he says.
“Looks like we do.” I feel like he’s…studying me. I don’t get the distinct feeling he’s that into Susa, though. Hell, she’s ten years younger than him.
Before he can walk out, I reach out and touch his arm, staying him, letting the room empty.
“Are we okay?” I softly ask.
As if it was never there, the wall disappears. “Yeah. Why?”
“I just… Sorry. Nothing.” There’s me, frantic to be a people pleaser.
Thanks, Mom.
He tips his head, indicating her. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt tonight. Sorry. My brain was already running through logistics, and I kind of shifted modes without thinking.”
Relief fills me. Of course. Military. “Sorry.”
He playfully smacks my shoulder. “Don’t apologize. It’s nice having a friend who can read me the way you seem able to.” He pauses and turns back to me. “Never hesitate to be honest with me, Owen. Please. I don’t have many friends.”
I opt to lighten the mood. “And now you’re stuck with an annoying little brother.”
He grins, and something about it makes me think he hasn’t been used to doing much of that lately. “Yeah, I am. Let’s get moving. I’ll meet you back at our room later, and we’ll leave by four thirty.”
“Sounds good.” I follow him out with thoughts of Susa’s blue eyes floating through my mind and threatening to harden my cock.
This is going to be an interesting semester.
Chapter Seven
I make it through the rest of my classes and return to our room, beating Carter there. I have enough time to grab a quick shower to rinse off the sweat from walking between buildings. I shave again.
Then I throw on jeans and a button-down short-sleeved shirt. One of my better ones, light blue chambray, sort of serious but not stuffy.
Carter arrives about that time, takes one look at me, and slowly shakes his head as a smirk fills his features.
“What?”
“You know this isn’t a date, right? She’s using us to get rid of her ex-boyfriend.”
“She’s using you,” I say. “I might look big because of my height, but you and I both know you’re the muscle. I’m the distraction waving at him while you kick his ass.”
He drops his backpack on his bed. “Why do you say that?”
“I’ve never been in a fistfight in my life. Hell, I don’t even fight over parking spaces. I can stand there and cross my arms and look tough, but I’m pretty damn useless as a bodyguard.”
“Don’t put yourself down. You’re in good shape. You just need some training, and PT with me every morning will take care of a lot of that.” He glances at the time. “I’ll grab a shower, too, since it’s still early.” He shoots me a grin that relaxes me.
He’s not upset.
Maybe this is how big brothers rag on little brothers, I don’t know.
I never had one of either to know, the half-brother I’ve never met not withstanding.
We’re heading to Susa’s in my car tonight, and Carter’s navigating from his phone. Frankly, I’m kind of glad he asked me to do the driving.
I don’t have the fanciest car, but I really didn’t want to roll up in the Snot Box and have Susa laugh her ass off at us. No, I don’t have great luck with women, but there’s something different about Susa.
Yeah she’s asked for our help, but I sense how damned strong she is in other ways.
She’s lit, not even like a furnace, but more like a nuclear reactor.
I wonder how close and how long I can stay near her before I catch fire and burn.
I don’t even think I’d mind all that much, to be honest.
* * * *
Susa’s house isn’t just a house. It makes my mother’s McMansion look like a fucking abandoned Alaskan latrine. Elandra Marriott Solemar doesn’t like to be shown up, but…
Yeah.
She’d be jealous. I can imagine the way her eyes would narrow as she wonders what she has to do to show the person up.
A silver Mercedes S560 four-door sedan sits parked in the driveway. I’m already feeling inadequate rolling up in my three-year-old Subaru. One of the few n
ice things my mom’s done for me, handing down her used car to me and paying for my car insurance and registration, since I earned a full scholarship. That, in addition to a very small monthly stipend from her that’s barely enough to cover my cell phone, gas, and a few other expenses, like laundry. The additional living expense allowance from my scholarship takes care of the rest, which is why I’m careful with my money.
Except I pay for my mother’s largesse in many painful ways both large and small, trust me.
Last year, I picked up a few extra dollars here and there tutoring students. With my own increased class load this year, I’m not sure if that’s going to be an option.
Susa greets us at the front door as we make our way up her walk. She’s changed into loose shorts and a USF Bulls T-shirt that hangs off her and hides her form. She’s barefoot, so now I can tell she’s probably around five-four.
Even dressed like this, she’s still beautiful.
“You guys are right on time. Welcome.”
It’s not exactly sparse, but it looks like she went shopping at IKEA to furnish it to the bare minimum. Yet it still has a homey feel despite that.
I relax immediately, liking the vibe. It’s not the slightest bit pretentious.
“You live here by yourself?” Carter asks as we follow her inside, his head craning as he looks around.
“Yep.”
“Why didn’t your dad want you living in the dorms? Was he worried about your safety?”
She snorts. “Not exactly. More like my privacy. Or, to be more accurate, his privacy.”
I let Carter do the talking. “Why?”
We reach the kitchen and while they’re playing conversational tennis again, I’m swept up by the room. Dark grey granite shot through with threads of black and gold, dark cherry cabinets, stainless steel appliances, and expensive charcoal-colored slate tile floors.
Fuck the rest of the house, this kitchen is likely worth more than my mother’s house.
Governor (Governor Trilogy 1) Page 5