It’s been less than half a day since I arrived at reform school, and an itch steadily grows to run, throw a ball, and spend some time with a woman. Just kisses would be fine.
Well, I am spending time with a woman, a dinner date, in fact, if it could be called that. Only, it’s clear she’s trying to convince herself she hates me.
“The body doesn’t lie,” I mutter.
“Pardon?” she asks in her smoky French accent.
My father’s famous words, “Life isn’t fair,” resound in my mind as they so often do.
“Mr. Wolfe, before we share this meal, I’m going to step out of character for a moment and give you a few instructions.”
“You’re in character, Cat?” A strange hope flares inside that she’s only pretending to despise me.
She presses her lips together, presumably at the use of the shortened version of her name. “We’re playing the roles ofdining companions. You’re going to demonstrate that you know how to behave like a gentleman when in good company.”
Her accent is so alluring, I’m at risk of losing consciousness and can hardly process what she says.
“You want me to demonstrate that I’m a gentleman instead of...what?”
She lifts and lowers one shoulder. “Instead of a—” She pauses as though trying to find the right word.
I brace myself because I’ve been called many things. In my youth, they mostly came from my father or brother and amounted to insults. As an adult, they mostly come from the women I pursue and are compliments. Whether we’re roleplaying or not, I’m curious about whatCatelinehas to say.
“Actually, I am not sure of the word in English.”
That isn’t the answer I was expecting. Despite the accent, her command of the English language is impeccable. Most native speakers don’t speak with such fluidity and clarity.
“Perhaps it has slipped my mind.” She shifts in her chair as though uncomfortable by this perceived shortcoming.
Interesting.
“The word is a noun and is where bears and beasts live in the wintertime.”
My eyebrows lift and an amused smile plays on my lips. “A den. No, a cave,” I guess. “Wait, you’re saying you want me to behave like a gentleman instead of acaveman?”
“Yes, that’s right!” She practically bounces in her seat as though we worked together to come up with the winning answer on a game show.
“You think I’m a caveman?”
She nods and smiles. “Oui.Have you looked in the mirror lately?”
Forcing myself to dismiss how she answeredyesin French, which has that certainje ne sais quoi,and because I’m mildly insulted by her comment, I scrub my hand down my beard.
I’d like to storm out of here, beating my chest, but rally. My father and brother didn’t intend to teach me the art of war, but I’ve learned it by necessity to survive Dad’s harsh rules and the way he pushed me to my physical limits. As for my brother, he was just a bully. In the end, it made me stronger, which was the intention. It also made me stubborn, closed off, and battle-ready at all times.
Until now, this was merely a game between my new coach and me. Now, it’s war.
Some fights, I’ll jump into, fists flying. Others, I approach more strategically. This is the case with Cateline—not that I’ll physically fight her. Rather, this is a battle of wills. And I’ll win by proving to her that I’m not a caveman. At least not all the time.
“For the next two hours, we will act as if we are a civilized couple sharing a meal,” Cateline says and outlines a few instructions.
I’m taking a long sip of water and nearly choke at the wordcouple.
“Make no mistake, I will be evaluating you and reporting to your superiors, Mr. Wolfe.”
Given her accent, the words are like background music, and I’m drawn into the way the candlelight dances in her eyes even as I try to remember she’s the enemy.
Shaking my head, I snap out of it, loosening the elastic around my man bun. I square up, imagining Cateline with Medusa hair and rotten teeth. That ought to get my head back in the game.
