by Bex Dane
Tessa called to my retreating back, a desperate edge in her tone. "Meet me here tomorrow, and I'll tell you if I find any info on your parents." The girl never gave up.
My hands made a snapping sound when they hit my sides. "Vanity manipulating me this time. Goddamn Barebones."
I didn't look back as I left the lot. Holy hell. That could not have gone worse.
Chapter 3
I made it into the Siege parking lot around eleven the next morning. My stomach growled and my feet weighed me down after only four hours sleep. But my curiosity and the persistent need to connect with someone who knew me drew me to the club.
Last night, I believed Tessa when she said she wanted to help. It felt good to have her eyes look kindly at me, like she'd forgiven me.
The girl I knew growing up wouldn’t miss the opportunity to give me shit about learning to read. Even if her husband discouraged her, she'd do it. She'd be here today waiting for me. Least I could do was show up.
The empty lot told me the building was closed. No one answered my knock at the door. The concrete walkway surrounding the building looked clear. Tessa didn't come. Fine. Rogan might have won the battle. I was used to going it on my own. I'd just continue from here.
I turned to leave. To my right, where the walk turned the corner of the building, a flash of pink appeared and disappeared within seconds. What the hell?
"Someone there?"
I heard scuffling and the pink appeared again, a puffball rising from knee level to eye level. Even more pink emerged from around the corner.
A woman wearing a magenta coat and a goofy hat dusted herself off and bustled toward me. She raised her head and looked at me. Holy hell. The woman from last night. The stunning brunette I'd stolen a drink from.
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Um, hi, Zook." She tugged on the belt that was already cinched around her tiny waist.
Her eyes scanned my clothes. The only store open this morning was a hoity-toity men's shop, so I'd used the money I scored off the drug dealer I mugged last night to buy charcoal slacks, a collared shirt with buttons, and a midnight-black leather jacket shaped like a sports coat. The only thing I liked was the jacket. The long pockets hid the gun I snagged from the drug dealer. They didn't have any hats, so I was still wearing my straw hat with it.
She planted her feet in front of me and righted her shoulders. "I'm Cecelia." Her eyes brightened like her name should mean something to me.
"Nice. I dig that song, but I didn't ask your name. I asked what the fuck you're doin' here. Where's Tessa?"
The light in her eyes dimmed. "She sent me."
Tessa sent the girl who I'd stolen a drink from? The girl who watched the whole fight with Rogan last night? She overheard everything, and still she showed up here alone? Why?
"How long you been sittin' there waiting for me?"
"Since dawn." This girl had been sittin' in the cold outside an empty club all morning? Waiting for my ass to show up?
"Really. And do you have the information I need?"
"No."
"You know I'm an ex-con, right?"
"I know."
"Then what the fuck are you doin' here?"
She stepped back, finally getting the message she should be afraid of me. "Uh, well, I was hoping to tutor you."
I looked to the sky and laughed. I knew it. Goddamn, Vanity Barebones set me up. I made eye contact with Cecelia again. My laughter quickly cut off. "No."
Her head flinched back. I felt bad snapping at her, but all I wanted was to find my family. Not get sucked into some tutoring scam with some beauty queen in a pink jacket and a fru-fru hat.
"Now call Tessa and tell her to get down here and tell me where my parents are."
"I talked to her this morning. She hasn't found them yet."
"Great. Fucking great."
She smoothed back her hair, as if the pecan-colored locks had any chance of escaping the smooth mass of hair she had knotted at her nape. "It's only been a few hours. Give her some time."
This was true. Tessa probably knew this last night and planned to ambush me all along. "Fine. See ya, Cecelia." I tipped my hat to her and turned to leave the parking lot.
"Wait."
I ignored her and hummed the chorus to "Cecelia." Destry and I used to play that song on guitar.
Her boots tapped on the asphalt like she was running to catch up with me. When fingers grasped the crook of my arm, I spun on her. "What do you want?" Unless the answer was to fuck me, we were done.
"I want you."
Oh, now that was pretty close to I want to fuck you. Maybe I should give this girl a chance. She'd waited alone in a parking lot for me all morning. She wanted me. Plus, she was gorgeous and hiding a killer bod under that wool coat.
"You want me?"
"I mean I want to know more about you."
Too late. She'd already admitted she wanted to fuck me. And my sex-starved brain had already imagined yanking her perfect ponytail from her neck and pulling it like reins on a mare as she took my cock from behind.
Now normally I wouldn't use someone for sex, but I'd been locked up years with only a few sticky magazines and the occasional porn that made their way around the cell block. If she wanted to fuck, I'd entertain her tutoring ruse till I got her naked.
"Not here," I said.
"Where?"
A girl like her I couldn't take straight to a hotel. I'd have to charm the pants off her first.
"Lunch. I need food."
I was starving after spending all night walking, getting in a fight with a dealer, finding a hotel, then shopping for new clothes and taking the T back to Siege.
"I have a favorite bistro on campus." The hopeful glint returned to her eyes.
"What's a bistro? What campus?"
"Hale. And a café with the best macchiato you've ever tasted." She walked briskly out of the club parking lot.
I'd never tasted that and… "They don't let people like me on campus at Hale."
"Of course they do. Anyone can eat at the bistro."
We reached the entrance to the T. She took out her wallet, but I pushed it away.
"I'll pay."
"But..."
"I pay. No exceptions."
She relented and we boarded the subway train to Hale. We exited on a historic street with manicured lawns. Aristocrats and yuppies milled about the cobblestones. I might be wearing the right clothes today, but I definitely didn't belong here.
She approached a restaurant with a pink and white awning. I couldn't read the black letters scrawled across it, but wouldn't be surprised if it said "Fru Fru Bistro." I stepped ahead to hold the door open for her.
She strutted up to the counter and spoke quickly. "I'll have a prosciutto focaccia panini with gruyère and an espresso macchiato."
The cashier entered it in like he spoke the same secret language of socialites and uppity coeds at Hale.
"What would you like?" she asked me.
Fuck if I know. "Do they have food? And coffee? A boatload of coffee."
She stared at me blank-faced for a moment before turning to the cashier and smirking. "Make that two of the same."
He farted with his little tablet a bit more then looked up at her. "Fifty-three seventy-one."
Holy hairy balls. Fifty-four bucks? What the hell did she order? I paid the bill and pocketed the change.
As we sat at an empty table, I said, "Do those coffee beans come out of a golden goose's ass?”
She grinned and worked open the huge wooden buttons on her coat. "I don't know. When you taste it, you'll understand why students here pay top dollar for it."
Whoa. As she stripped her coat off, my eyes glued to the curves of her ribbed turtleneck sweater. It hugged her breasts tight, the bra outline visible. Bumpy like lace. Holy fuck, Cecelia was packin' heat. Totally worth fifty-four bucks and a T ride if it ended with those tatas in my hands.
"The days are cooling down fast." Her voice barely r
eached my ears.
"What?" Shit. Hmm. Her boobs totally distracted me. I forced my eyes to pupil level.
"It was so muggy here just a week ago. The cold is setting in."
Oh right. September. The change in seasons didn't matter too much in the slammer, and I knew shit about the weather in Boston. "Right."
"So, where're you from?"
"Federal prison in Colorado."
She took that in stride and didn't miss a beat. "Did you grow up in Colorado?"
"No." Her questions chipped away at my chances of getting laid. Telling her I was raised in a fundamentalist break-off sect of full-blown crackpots would not get me in there.
Luckily, the cashier arrived and delivered two plates containing triangular sandwiches with grill marks, melted cheese dripping over the sides, and two coffee cups small enough for Barbie.
I jammed a big hot bite of pan-whatever in my mouth. "Oh shit." I burned my tongue on the sandwich, dropped it, and gulped down some… fuck, hot as hell coffee. Shit. It all hurt and tasted good at the same time.
A giggle as delicate as windchimes made it through the chaos of my first bite of food.
With my tongue still tingling from the burn, and my mouth full, I said, "Shut up."
More windchime giggles followed. God, the sound of a woman's laughter. Something I'd always coveted but never had in my life. Not in any way I could call her mine. I risked another, much more careful, sip of the rich coffee, which tasted more like chocolate mousse. "Where the hell do I get one of those golden geese?"
Her giggles broke into unrestrained laughter, snorting included. She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to hide how hard she was laughing. Damn, that felt good. So good a man could spend his life bending over backward to hear the sound again. And other sounds. Mmm. What other wild noises could I draw out of Cecelia?
She chewed a nibble of sandwich. "So, Zook Guthrie. What are your hobbies?"
How did she know my name? Guess she picked it up last night. But still, she remembered it. "Do you know Rogan and Tessa?" I answered her question with a question.
"No. Just met them last night."
"You know my last name and I don't know yours." Let's see how she liked the third degree.
She looked down at her food and swallowed. "Boujani."
"Cecelia Boujani?"
"Yes."
Pretty and classy like her. "I build things." My second bite of the sandwich didn't burn my tongue and she was right. It tasted damn good.
"What?" She peered at me over her tiny coffee cup.
I swallowed down the bite I'd taken. In prison, it didn't matter if you talked with food in your mouth. At a bistro at Hale with a gorgeous girl, I needed to mind my manners. "To answer your question. About my hobbies. I build things."
"Like what kinds of things?"
"Mostly houses. I've been hammering and nailing since I was four. I can build anything. Specialize in woodwork, though."
"Wow. That's impressive."
And fuck me if she didn't sound honest. She sincerely thought I was impressive. Her eyes took me in adoringly. She wanted me. And the more we sat here, the quicker I wanted her to finish her food so I could take her to a hotel and make her come apart.
What kind of bra did a girl like her wear? My guess, pink lace. Sweet and shit. It would be so hot if my snobby librarian were hiding something freaky under there. Maybe some ruby satin or leather. Yeah, definitely a leather bra that barely covered her nipples.
While I was daydreaming, she'd removed a paper and pencil from her folder and set them square in front of me.
"What's this?" I leaned back and dropped my hands loose by my sides.
"Let's determine our starting point. Can you write the alphabet for me?"
I didn't pick up the pencil or even look at the paper. I just kept staring at her eyes. The color matched the chocolate coffee she'd ordered us with little flecks of cream mixed in.
My reflex reaction to this wanting-to-tutor-me shit was to shut the person down right away. Never let them get started or they'll push for more. But something in her eyes forced my mouth closed. Maybe it was the naive hope in her voice, or the nervous way she kept glancing down and then into my eyes again.
"Okay, then. Let me..." She made a few marks on the paper.
No, I couldn't push Cecelia away like the others who had come before her and failed. She was different. I didn't want to hurt her. And I really wanted to fuck her. Walking out now would definitely reduce my chances of ever getting that.
I placed my elbows on the table and leaned in. A faint fruity scent, like oranges, distracted me for a second. Of course, Cecelia smelled good. Everything about her was refined and delicious. "That's an A," I said, soft and quiet.
She grinned, proud of herself for getting a response out of me. "Yes. Good. You know A. So every letter makes a sound. The A says ah, like avocado."
Oh, now this was new. No one had ever brought food into the lesson before. "A don't say A?"
"A says A too. Sometimes. But it also says ahh, like in bad."
"A bad avocado." I exaggerated, wagging my finger like I was scolding said avocado. She watched my finger, and a giggle escaped her lips. Yes! I did that. I made the windchimes ring.
"Okay so... First we learn one sound for each letter, then all the variations and how it changes based on what letters are next to it." She drew another letter on her page. "The B says buh like baby."
Oh she was asking for it now. I had to sing it. "Like baby, baby, oh… Baby, baby, no."
Her eyes widened big and her brows shot up, then her entire face turned into a reluctant smile. Oh yeah, I had Cecelia as good as naked now.
I let her get through C and D with no jokes. The girl's cheeks were red enough. She glanced at me, expecting my joke. I held back and she shook her head and smiled. Okay. Tutoring could be fun with Cecelia.
"What's this one?" She drew more lines on her paper.
"F"
"No. This is an E."
Damn. "Right. E. Not wearing my glasses."
She squinted and scrunched her nose. Cute, but we'd reached a milestone. Cecelia now knew the extent of my knowledge didn't go past the letter E. She'd located my weakness. Now who was the naked one?
"Look at it like this." She drew a rectangle standing on its short side. "Imagine this box is the frame. Like a house. The letters all fit inside, but each in their way. Like custom beams. Curved, long, short. But they all need to touch the frame in some way to remain stable." She sketched an E inside the rectangle and traced it again. She drew another box, put an F inside it and said "F."
This made sense and I admired her for getting through to me when many girls had tried and failed. But… I wasn't here to learn my letters.
I sat back in my chair until I got her gaze to lift from the paper to lock with mine. "I been in prison two years."
"Oh. Um… I mean. I know."
The silence stretched out between us.
"Let's move forward." Her pen shook as she scratched out something. "What letter is this?" She looked up at me, waiting for my answer.
"You're missing my point. I been in prison two years. With all men. And you smell good."
Her mouth dropped open and she stared at me, frozen. "I do? Um."
"Your hair's shiny. Your voice is all feminine and sexy."
"Thank you," she said with a bewildered smile as more color rose in her cheeks. This was working. I had her stunned into submission.
I swiped my finger across her temple and around behind her ear. She closed her eyes as she felt my touch for the first time. Yes. I'm so in there. "Hard to concentrate on learning with you being all those things."
She blinked and her thick lashes lapped at the apples of her cheeks. "Well, uh, I understand that must be…"
I took her hand that wasn't holding a pen in mine. Her skin felt soft and gentle. Two things I had never had in my life. "Let's get out of here. I'm staying in a hotel."
Oh shit. That was th
e wrong thing to say. Cecelia shut down so fast, I could see the windows slamming and the closed sign coming up. Damn.
"I have to go." She scooped up her papers and threw them in her bag. "I'd really like to tutor you, but I can't uh, let it go any farther than that." She stood and clutched her backpack and jacket to her chest. Hiding from me.
"I'll be honest with you, CeCe." She stepped back when I used a nickname for her. "Can I call you CeCe?"
"Yes, uh. It's nice."
"Right. CeCe, I'm not really interested in you tutoring me. Although you're the hottest teacher I've ever had, and you've gotten farther with me than anyone else who's ever tried."
"I am? I did?"
I smiled. "Yeah."
She set her bag down on the table and dug through it. She pulled out a notebook and pen. "Take this." She withdrew a white sheet with lines and letters on it. "Let's meet again. We'll finish capital letters and start on lowercase." She shoved the sheet inside the notebook and tucked the pen in the spiral binding. She pushed the notebook toward me. "Trace the letters a few times. Keep looking at it. Try to memorize it."
I stood and shook my head. "I don't want you to teach me. I want something completely different from you."
"I'm sorry. I can't... I mean, I'm not interested in you that way."
Bullshit. This girl made no sense. She wanted me, she clearly felt the same pull I did.
"I don't believe you."
She bit her lip. "You don't?"
"I don't believe you don't want me too."
She looked around the bistro, her eyes on anything but me. Her voice came out tiny and pleading. "Zook. I'd be honored if you'd let me teach you."
"You'd be honored?"
"Yes. Just, please. Take the notebook. Bring it back to the library tomorrow at noon." She pointed out the glass door of the bistro. Beyond the massive lawn, there was a huge old building that looked more like a church than a library. "I'll be waiting. Bottom floor, center aisle."
She turned and ran out the door, leaving only the tempting scent of oranges behind her.
Well, shit.
Chapter 4
"Those girls been eye fucking you." The man sitting next to me in the pub tilted his head toward a group of women across the bar from us. I'd wandered into an Irish pub for dinner a while earlier. Needed food after spending a full day roaming Boston and hitting up construction sites for work, only to be handed applications I couldn't fill out.