I square my shoulders and scoot the backpack’s strap a little higher up on my shoulder.“Is Violet here?”
He shakes his head.“Just me.”
Awesome.
His eyes fall on my backpack.“You here to study?”
“Yeah.Uh.Hmm.”I shake my head, fighting the urge to cry.“It’s okay.I’ll just…” I start to turn around, but he stops me.
“What are you working on?”he asks.
With a frown, I face him again.“What?”
“In your class,” he clarifies.“I assume it’s kicking your ass, right?”He pushes the front door open even more.“Let me guess.You have Wheeler?”
My lips part.“How did you?—”
“Because Wheeler’s a beast and sucks at teaching.Come on.I’ve got an hour to spare.”He doesn’t wait for me to follow him.He simply walks down the hallway, leaving the front door wide open for me.
“Are you serious?”I call.
“As ED,” he returns over his shoulder, not bothering to offer any other kind of explanation, his back muscles bunching and flexing and still on full display as he disappears around a corner.
ED?What in the world is this man talking about?
It’s strange.Astounding, even.How he’s so confident in everything he does.The way he speaks.The way he moves.The way he leaves the door open, knowing I’ll follow.
How does he know what I’ll do when even I don’t know what I’ll do?
I could walk away.I could climb back into my car and leave.Or I could stay and maybe learn a thing or two.Heaven knows my grade needs all the help it can get.But would that be caving?Would it be giving in to Ford’s every whim?He’s used to it.That much, I know.It doesn’t matter.If I fail my class, nothing will.Puffing out my cheeks, I glance back at my car one more time before giving in and stepping into the Harden home.
Technically, it isn’t my first time inside his domain, but it feels like it is.Maybe it’s because Lexie and Violet aren’t by my side this go around.Maybe it’s because the house isn’t littered with random people, and the smell of booze is missing.Maybe it’s because natural light filters in through the massive windows instead of the various light fixtures and the roaring fire being the only glow in the house.Or maybe…maybe it’s because the only two people in the room are me…and Ford.
“Want anything to drink?”Ford asks.I follow his voice into the kitchen only to find him rummaging through the fridge.The kitchen is nice, too.Big.With warm wood, custom casing, gold fixtures, and appliances that would make most chefs drool.I rock back on my heels and fold my arms.
What in the world am I doing here?
Ford pulls out a couple of energy drinks and sets them on the stone countertop next to a bowl of oranges.“Hungry?”he adds.
“I’m okay.”
“You sure?”
I nod.
“Mind if I make a sandwich while you set up?”he asks.He doesn’t wait for my answer this time, either.It’s probably because he’s so used to being told yes that he can’t imagine someone turning him down.With his head still in the fridge, he grabs a few more items from the drawers, adding mayonnaise, mustard, deli meat, lettuce, a tomato, and some cheese to the counter.Closing the fridge, he grabs the two drinks and motions to the kitchen table.“Take a seat.”
Why do I feel like this is a bad idea?
My feet stay plastered where they are as he begins putting together a sandwich.Bread, mayonnaise, a squirt of mustard.My stomach gurgles, and his hands freeze in place as his gaze finds mine.“Are you positive you don’t want a sandwich, June Bug?”
June Bug.It isn’t the first time he’s called me this, and I doubt it’ll be the last.You’d think I’d be used to it, but anytime the nickname rolls off Ford’s tongue, my stomach flip-flops, and I have to remind myself I’m not special.I’m simply a victim of Ford being Ford.Besides, it’s only a nickname, and not a particularly clever one, either.Even so, I can’t make myself hate it.
“Hmm?”Ford prods.“You sure you don’t want one?”
“Yes,” I murmur.“I’m positive.Thank you, though.”
“Really?”He sets the mustard down and rounds the island.Arms crossed, he leans his butt against the countertop, studying me.“Because your stomach says differently.”
