"Thanks, Zo," I said with a smile. She really was the best girl in the world.
The teacher came in a moment later setting up her mat as close as she could in front of the mirrors, talking in hushed tones. At some point, while we were in downward dog I heard Zoey making a low whistling noise from next to me. Turning my head slightly, I saw her bright eyes on mine.
She whispered to me, "We need to do this more often."
I mouthed back a "Why?" It was bad enough I came once or twice a week with her.
Zoey winked at me before rolling her body into upward dog. "The camera adds ten pounds." I must have given her a quizzical look because she shook her head. "For Porn Wives."
Oh lord.
Chapter55
"What do you want for your birthday?" Tristan's warm breath washed over the cartilage of my ear.
We were sitting on the couch next to each other with his arm looped over my shoulders, fingers tracing the valley of my collarbone. My eyes narrowed on their own while I tried to figure out if this was a trick or not. "You already got me a birthday present," I reminded him.
While some people may not like to celebrate their birthdays, I was not one of those people. I liked my birthday. I like birthday cake and balloons, and doing whatever the fuck I want because it's my day. Only this year, like last, I had to work on it. It could've been worse though. I reminded myself that it was early enough in the school year to where my students still didn't know me well and therefore, won't give me much hell. Yet.
His straight nose wrinkled as he made a face. "That wasn't your birthday present."
"Uh, you told me taking me with you to California was my birthday present."
"That was my grandma's birthday present to you," he clarified with a roll of green eyes. "I used her money. It doesn't count."
There were two things wrong with what he was telling me. I had never met either of his grandmas, which would merit a present and I never would. I could remember him explaining to me that one of them left him some money in her will. By some money, I meant a lot of money. It was the same money he used to buy his house and car. The lucky asshole. The only thing I got from my grandma when she died was a collection of creepy dolls. "That does too count."
"Kat," he muttered in a low tone. "Just tell me what you want."
I couldn't help but sigh, thinking. I knew how stubborn he was, and I knew that he wouldn't let it go so I thought more. Then it hit me. Sliding my hand over my lap, and then slowly letting it glide to where I could grip the thick muscle in his thigh, I squeezed. "I know what I want."
The perfect profile of his face was visible when he stiffened, staring forward. "What is it?"
"You—," I said with a squeeze. "In—," another squeeze accompanied my words and I heard him suck in a breath, waiting for me to finish. For me to tell him what he wants to hear. "An apron. I want you to make me a cupcake."
A loud whoosh expelled from his lungs followed by glaring in my direction. "You're cruel and that's not something I can buy you."
I tried to give him the most innocent smile in the world, but it probably came out looking like I was constipated. "I don't know what you're talking about, and you never said that I needed to tell you what to buy me."
He seemed to think about what I said for a minute too long, and I had to wonder what was going through his pretty head. "I'm not good with my hands—," he started to say before the noise that erupted out of my throat stopped him.
"Liar," I choked out, remembering the night he woke me up in Los Angeles with those hands. "You are good with your hands."
Tristan threw his head back and laughed, snorting at the end and it made my heart clench a little. "You're right, I am good with my hands."
"Asshole," I muttered, elbowing him in the rib. I pretty much asked for that answer but still. We both knowhowhe was so good with his hands. "Prick."
"Aww, Kat," he groaned, realizing that he'd aggravated me. "I just meant that I'm not good at building stuff. I'm not creative at all."
I started to nod before he was even done with his sentence. As soon as he said he wasn't good at building things, I had to agree. We tried to put together an elevated feeder for Yoda and that didn't work out so well. The glare he gave me in response to my acknowledgement of his weakness only made me laugh. "What? It's true!"
"I could build something if I wanted to," he said indignantly, tightening the hold around my shoulders.
"You're right, you can," I agreed with him, trying my best to keep a straight face. "I'll buy you some Legos or Building Blocks for you to get started."
His face was a mask of cool and collected as he eyed my face blankly. But I knew him, I could see that there's something building under his eyes, something close to amusement and teasing. It felt like minutes of silence passed between our words. "You need me to go get your emergency panties from your car again?"
Chapter 56
