“Are you sure you’re up for lunch? You’re supposed to be resting.”
“Bah,” he chides, waving a dismissive hand and moving away from the table. “A good meal is the best medicine. Besides, Diego and I have some things to discuss before the next class.”
I glance at Diego, whose calm exterior doesn’t betray an ounce of the storm still brewing between us.
“You’re not coming back, Papà.”
It’s ridiculous, and it’s another thing that could get me into trouble with the university.
“Of course I am. Partners don’t leave each other in a lurch. There’s important work to be done.”
He raises his index finger in the air as if my class could be doing anything close to groundbreaking work worthy of publishing and awards.
“Papà . . . we’ll talk about this when we get home.”
“We always do.”
That’s precisely what we don’t do.
We rarely talk things through at home.
He opens the door and slowly steps through, leaving Diego and me battling wills with each other.
“See you at home, Isabella.”
Diego’s smirk is the last thing I see when I turn away, fuming over the morning’s events.
“The hell you will, Mr. Kahale.”
His boots squeak against the linoleum as he moves closer, the sound grating against my nerves. I refuse to turn, keeping my back to him out of sheer immature defiance.
“You can count on it. While you and your dad have things to discuss, you and I have unfinished business too. I’ll pick you up at 4 pm. Be ready.”
The audacity of this kid.
Words fail me as I stare at the clock on the wall. It’s ticking, suddenly too loud. He doesn’t wait for a reply, his footsteps retreating from the room with maddening ease, leaving me frozen in place.
It’s only when the silence settles again that I exhale slowly, wondering how this day went down in flames so damn fast.
13
DIEGO
“Get on the bike, Isabella.”
I should have picked her up in my truck. But my dumb ass wants to feel her hot body against my back, the clench of her thighs over my hips like Monday night.
“We don’t have to go for a ride. We can talk.”
She looks around, her words dying on her tongue, when she sees a neighbor pulling up to the gate of her complex.
“Fine. But it has to be somewhere private. So not near the campus or here.”
Her gaze darts around her neighborhood, the mere thought of someone judging her for a perceived impropriety weighing on her. I’m the opposite, giddy beyond belief that she’s agreeing to any of this in the first place. Sure, we have shit to talk about from the fall and discovering that she is my mystery rider, and even further back from the urgent care.
But tonight, I don’t give a damn if we talk. I just want to get her away from here to see if I can get vulnerable Isabella back and appeal to that woman.
She slips on her helmet, affixing it tightly before climbing on after me, the same as she did the other night. Cracked visor and all. A damaged helmet is better than no helmet, even though my boys and I often ride without them. Once she’s firmly seated, her hands tucked around my body, I take off for World’s End.
