Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 109505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
I stop in my tracks.
Huh. It’s a long shot, but it’s a shot.
“Sorry, Coach. Misdialed.” I grin, end the call, and shout back to my boys, “I’m in.”
I head their way.
Let’s see if Tutor Girl’s made a habit out of walking alone in the dark.
A few hours later, and there she is, crossing the dimly lit street.
I want to call out her name, slam her for her reckless choice, and do it again when she rolls those eyes at my rant.
But then she shifts, and the shitty streetlight catches something small on the inside of her jacket. A name badge. She shifts again and I make out the logo on her top, but it’s not a top.
It’s an apron from the burger place down the road.
She was at work.
She’s walking home alone, late as shit at night, from work.
Not for fun and escapades, but because she must have to. Walk and work, I mean.
She wouldn’t do either if she didn’t need to, right?
Wait, she has two jobs?
Instead of doing any of the things I was about to, I step farther into the shadows, follow at a distance from my side of the road and once she’s safe and crossing campus grounds, the security guard rolling along in his golfcart at her side, I head home.
I don’t know why, but I do the same exact thing the very next day.
CHAPTER 11
Tobias
“No freaking lie?!” Meyer’s lips curve up as she snags the paper I’m holding up in front of her. She scans over it and that smile of hers grows.
Laughing, I repeat her words. “No lie.”
“That’s killer for a pop quiz.”
“I’ve got a ‘killer’ tutor.”
Finally, her eyes come up to mine and she pulls her mouth to one side. “We didn’t go over this section. You read this one on the bus on the way back from your Arizona game. This is all you, Tobias Cruz.” Again, with that smile. “Be proud.”
Are you?
Meyer clears her throat and looks around, a small frown building along her brows. “Where’s your bag?” she asks, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“I didn’t get a chance to eat after practice, cool if we grab a pizza? There’s a patio we can work on.”
Her face smooths out and she looks out across the grass. “Um.”
“You won’t be sorry. They’ve got the best sauce around.”
With her head down, she timidly says, “I only have two hours.”
“I know.” I’m no fool. She’s here because she’s required, but that doesn’t mean it has to stay that way, right? I pull my keys from my pocket and walk backward toward the parking lot. “It’s only a couple miles from here, I have my truck.” My eyes roam across her makeup-less face. “I’ll get you back in good time, Tutor Girl. Promise.”
She begins to nibble on that lower lip of hers and I pull in a slow breath, willing my cock to behave itself.
I get it, my man, you’re fucking starved.
Meyer’s brown eyes come back to mine and she says, “Okay.”
“Wait, for real?” My head tugs back.
“I said okay.” She chuckles, flicking her gaze to the sky.
“Well, okay. Right this way, Tutor Girl.” I hop off the curb, unlocking and opening the door to my Dodge Ram for her. “Hop on in George.”
She looks to me with a goofy expression. “George?”
“That’s right.”
“That’s odd.”
“You ever met a George who wasn’t a reliable son of a bitch?” I lift a brow, walking around the hood to my own door. “Bet not.”
She pulls her lips in as she climbs inside the cab, and a few seconds later, I’m turning out onto the main road.
Pizza here we come.
Meyer runs her fingers along the doorframe, looking up at the ceiling and down at the stereo system I’ve yet to turn on. “This is really nice.”
I grin. “Perks of a pitcher.”
She nods, turning her head toward her window. “Of course.”
I cut her a quick glance, but she doesn’t face forward again, not until we’re parked and climbing out.
She looks over the little hole-in-the-wall, a mom-and-pop restaurant I found my first week here freshman year. It’s old and needs a fresh coat of paint, could use a new parking lot and sign, too, but the food is delicious, the sauce homemade, and the couple, kind as shit.
Inside, Franny, the mom of the place, greets us with a weathered smile and a wave. “How you doing, honey, get over here, and you brought a friend!” She quickly turns her head, shouting, “Joe, get out here, Tobias is here and he brought a friend!”
Meyer lifts her hand, disguising her laugh as a low cough.
I give Franny a hug and shake Joe’s hand when he steps from behind the swinging door a moment later.
Joe pats my back. “Been a couple weeks, huh? Thought you pissed on us for that new joint down the road.”