“You said you weren’t going to mention the second, farm boy.”
“I didn’t get you a birthday gift, as promised, but I can tell you to have a good one. In fact, I’m going to make sure it’s a good one. Now, come on, let’s go. I want to get back to my gift.”
“One sec, I have to grab my shoes and purse.”
“I’ll go warm your car. No way you’re gonna get in my truck wearing that...unless you want it to split all the way up your leg.”
“Whatever you say, boss. I’m leaving my cell behind. It’s been dinging all night since I posted grades for the first exam. These students are crazy. They’ve been back for a month. After that, you’d think they’d know I meant business.”
As I grabbed the keys, my phone dinged.
“Shit,” I muttered when I saw who it was.
Abbie. She’d become a regular pain in my ass.
Like a pesky little sister, she’d inserted herself in all of my business.
Happy V-Day. Don’t forget to meet us tomorrow. We have to make a plan.
Treat Prof. Richards right tonight.
Not in the mood to have a long, drawn-out conversation with her, I texted back:
K.
With the car running, I went back in to get Claire.
“I’m ready,” she said, stumbling as she shoved her feet into stilettos.
“Good thing it’s not snowing or anything.”
It was. There was already a light dusting on the ground.
“You may just have to carry me later.”
“No arguments from me.”
“Be good, Smit,” she said, and out the door we went. Claire hung on to my elbow all the way to the car, and my hand lingered on her hip a bit longer than normal as I helped her into the seat.
“I’m hungry. I wonder if the same bartender will be there. I’m sure he doesn’t remember us,” she rambled and didn’t apologize for it.
We were in a comfortable spot, easy. I was pretty certain it wouldn’t last—a chill ran down my spine at the thought. I pushed it away. Tonight wasn’t the night for any of that bullshit.
We were going to The House for dinner. We hadn’t been since our first date.
“I would guess he’s there, and I’m sure he remembers you. But you know what? I’ll be there, so who gives a shit?”
“Come on, you can’t be jealous of that guy.”
“I’m jealous of any guy,” I said, keeping my eyes on the road.
I parked as close as I could and hustled Claire inside as quickly as possible. Of course she gravitated toward the bar area. Seated on her stool, she waited to order her wine. She practically shrieked when the bartender popped a bottle of champagne in front of her and said, “Happy birthday!”
“Aiken,” she growled.
“You’re being rude. Say thank you…”
“Thank you,” she said to Bill, the bartender from last time.
