“He’s a good kid.”
“You saw that when others didn’t.”
His compliment ignited a spark deep inside me, stronger than any other nice thing he could say. I took my job seriously. Yes, the extra outside of class could wear on a person, and yes, the pay wasn’t as much as a lot of professions, but I really liked making a difference—standardized testing and regulations be damned. “Thank you.”
“Huh. That’s the way to get to you—complimenting your job?” I sputtered, but he pointed his fork at me. “You, Miss Scarlett, almost had me shaking in my boots during our first meeting.”
“I did not.”
“Believe it. Then your tits took the rest of my attention.”
My startled laughter rang out, scaring a bird from a nearby tree. “They did not.”
His gaze dropped to my chest. “You sure about that, teach?”
My nipples turned instantly hard. Throbbing in a way they never had before. Tate just happened to reference them, and they came alive. “Tate,” I warned. I couldn’t survive his flirting and then be happy with a murder show by myself.
“You’re a sexy woman, Miss Scarlett. It’s not my fault if you don’t know it, but now that I see you’re horrifically ignorant, I’m duty bound to show you.”
“Show?” My throat closed up on the word.
Pink touched his cheeks. “I meant tell, but I’m more than happy to show you.”
Oh god. I’d read too much into it. I’d embarrassed Tate Bailey. He’d stood unflinching while a church full of women haggled over him, even when his sister won the bid. He hadn’t meant “show me”literally, yet I’d jumped on it and humiliated myself. I stuffed a beef tip in my mouth, keeping my gaze planted on the peeling paint of the picnic table.
“What’s going on in that sharp, overanalyzing mind of yours?”
“Nothing,” I said around my mouthful.
“Scarlett.” He set his utensils down. “Did I go too far?”
Not far enough.“I’m fine. My food’s getting cold, and it’s getting late.” No, it wasn’t. But I was ready to crawl under my blanket with the AC on full blast and learn about a horrific murder until I remembered I couldn’t die of unrequited sexual need.
* * *
Tate
Figuringthis woman out shouldn’t be so hard. She spoke freely about her impressions of me. She didn’t shy away or change the subject when I brought up my sisters and the kids my family fostered. Brushing against the topic was enough to stop a lot of people midsentence who’d find somewhere else to be.
Everyone knew the tragic story of my sisters’ parents. They talked about the accident enough behind my back but to my face? No.
Scarlett could tackle the hard subjects, but she didn’t realize the hardest subject was her.
Fuck that ex of hers.
I bet men like him were drawn to her. Before that bastard, other guys had probably used her to make themselves feel better too. And once she refused to cave to their man-child ways, they’d likely jetted and blamed her.
And deep down, she believed the crap they’d spewed.
We finished our meal, chatting about the water, the type of fish I’d caught in the river and the weather. She mentioned fishing and camping with her parents. She left unsaid that her exes hadn’t liked either activity, and she hadn’t done much as an adult.
I could change that if she let me.
Throughout the whole meal, I thought about how I could show her how amazing her tits were. I hadn’t wanted to be too forward, but she’d shut down right after.
Did she want me to show her?
She never said she didn’t like me. She only said she didn’t believe I was into her. She never said she didn’t want to date me—only that she was sorry my sisters had intervened against our will.
