Teach Me Like That (LMLT Book 2) (10 page)

“You want me to make you something to eat?” she asks twirling her fiery red hair around her finger. “I have another hour before my next client gets here.”

“Client?” I say walking toward the door. “Are you a hair stylist or something?” It’s late on a Sunday evening. Who does hair that late?

She giggles even though I didn’t say anything funny.

“I don’t do hair,” she says quickly. “I fuck.”

I stop in my tracks and turn back to look at her. “Excuse me?”

“I’m an escort,” she replies.

I’m the one laughing now because there’s no way I heard her correctly.

“Like dates and social functions?”

She shrugs. “Sometimes, but mostly I just fuck.”

“For money?” I’m not one to judge but I’ve never paid for sex, and I’m not fixing to start now.

“Don’t worry,” she coos sliding up against my body. “I’ll always fuck you for free.”

I shake my head to clear it. I remember thinking she sucked dick like a professional, but it was a fleeting thought.

“Wow,” I say. I mean, what else do you say in a moment like this?

As I make my way out of her apartment, with a noncommittal agreement to see her again soon, I step back on the elevator. I don’t even know what to think in a moment like this. My brain tells me to stay far away; the last thing I need to be linked to is a paid call girl, but my dick loves how experienced and experimental she is.

I side with my brain, which doesn’t happen often and delete her from my contact list and block her number for good measure. Kadin is going to get a kick out of this shit. On better thought, I won’t even tell him. It’s too much ammunition for him to bring up in later conversations, and it’s not like he doesn’t already have enough.

I head home to shower. I’ve slept with some pretty questionable women, but, for some reason, walking back to my truck with the new information I’ve just been given makes me feel dirtier than I’ve ever felt before.

I get the appeal of a paid companion, don’t get me wrong. Quick, easy, a sure thing. In most cases, I’m sure it’s a very discrete way to conduct sexual business, but it’s not for me. I guess I know now how she affords to live in such a nice place.

Lexi

Most people struggle with getting it together for Monday morning, but I know for me Friday is the most exhausting day of the week. Most Fridays I have to force myself to stay active when all I want to do is put on my pajamas and fall asleep in front of the TV.

This week has been even more exhausting since I’m leaving earlier in the morning and staying away until well after dark to ensure that I don’t run into Kegan. I’ve been successful all week and avoided any form of contact with Kegan Cole. I wish I could say I felt good about the week with no sightings, but some evenings I feel like I miss him. Those evenings are the ones where an extra glass of wine helps.

I don’t get to stay away from home today, however. Jillian, Justin, Hawke, and I get together once a month to hang out and share a meal. I’m hosting this evening, so as much as I want just to fall into bed, I can’t.

I also don’t have time to cook, so the local deli will be catering our meal this evening, and by catering I mean I called in an order of a ridiculous amount of food and picked it up on my way home from school.

I groan when I pull into my driveway and see that Kegan’s truck is at the worksite next door. I pray he stays away for my sanity.

The food and my belongings require three trips to and from my car to get it all in the house. This is one of those times a man would be helpful. Sexist? Of course, but carrying bulky, heavy things is pretty much a requirement if you’re a man. I do my best not to look distressed in case Kegan is watching me. The last thing I need is him trying to be helpful and following me into the house.

Thirty minutes later the doorbell rings for the first time this evening. I try to make out the person by the shape of their body through the silkscreened glass, but can’t really tell who it is. I’m expecting three people this evening, but I know there’s a big chance that Kegan will somehow make his way over before leaving his work site for the evening.

Thankfully, I find Justin standing on my front porch. I smile from ear to ear, but that still doesn’t stop the tear from rolling down my cheek. I step into him before he can make his way into the house.

Did I mention that today is also the third anniversary of losing my grandparents? I lost so much more that day, but this is a grief that Justin and I share. He lost his grandparents that day as well. Justin had his own parents growing up, but Clive and Mona Carter raised me. They were practically the only parents I ever knew.

“I know,” he says wrapping his arms all the way around me. “Shhh,” he whispers in my ear and rubs consoling circles on my back.

He holds me for a few long minutes. He allows me to sob into his shirt and doesn’t pull away until my shoulders stop shaking.

I finally let go of him and walk back into the house. No sooner do I get the bottle of wine he brought into the fridge and the doorbell is ringing again. It has to be Hawke because Jillian just walks right in like she owns the place.

Hawke’s boisterous laugh, which I’ve grown fond of over the years, echoes off the walls. His exuberance is commonplace, but it’s the soft tinkle of a feminine laugh that’s out of place in my home. I round the corner and run into Hawke’s chest as he makes his way into the kitchen carrying a bottle of wine.

I grab his arms to steady myself and look over his shoulder. A tiny pixie-like woman is standing in my living room with Justin.

“Who is that?” I ask a little too loud drawing both her and Justin’s attention in my direction.

“That’s Phoebe. My date.”

He shoulders past me to the fridge.

“What about Jillian?” I’m in best friend tiger mode right now, and today is not the day for him to be bringing bullshit into my house.

“Jillian and I aren’t together,” he says dismissively.

“Does she know that?” Where did that even come from? I know Jillian and Hawke have a weird ass dynamic. They’ve been dancing around each other for years, and it seems they’re the only ones who don’t realize how perfect they’d be together.

“You’re purposely goading her, Hawke. Our monthly dinners are only for us four, and you know it.” I have no idea how Jillian is going to respond, but she’s not one to bite her tongue and just let something like this slide.

“Tell her that,” he says angling his head toward the living room where Jillian just walked in wrapped from head to toe around a man I’ve never seen, even though he looks remarkably like David Beckham.

This evening is going to be one for the books; I can already tell.

Any other monthly get together someone would give me a hard time for not cooking, but everyone who’s important to me knows what today is; it’s one of the reasons we decided to do this today rather than the second Friday of the month like we usually do.

The other two, Phoebe and Mark, don’t know any different. They’re here today, and we’ll probably never see them again. Neither Hawke nor Jillian is one to have any sort of long-term relationship. Hawke is the definition of a playboy, and Jillian has trouble committing to one brand of shampoo. Relationships to them are the equivalent of mythical beings and unicorns.

I’d love nothing more than to rip into both Hawke and Jillian for breaking the sanctity of our dinner, but I don’t have the energy even to concern myself with them. They’re too busy trying to one-up each other even to notice my mood, and that hurts my feelings more than I should let it.

The whole evening has been one hell of a show. They are both purposely baiting each other, acting as if their date is the declared love of their life. Phoebe looks like she’s in heaven as she bats her fake eyelashes at Hawke’s attention. Poor Mark looks like he may have food poisoning at Jillian’s fawning. If he gets sick at her lovey-dovey act, she will be cleaning up the mess.

Normally, we would play
Cards Against Humanity
or some other game, but it wasn’t even suggested this evening. I had hoped that tonight would be a distraction from the anniversary, and it has been, just not the type of distraction I’d hoped for.

I cut my eyes to Justin as Phoebe nuzzles her nose against Hawke’s jaw. He huffs a laugh when Jillian mimics her behavior and does the same to Mark.

“How’s work?” I ask Justin pulling my attention away from the couples who are acting more like they’re in a club than my house in the suburbs.

“Steady,” he responds. “We’re considering bringing in another attorney to help with the workload.”

“That’s a great problem to have. Any front runners?”

“We’ve had a few resumes sent in, but we haven’t decided on anyone yet. How’s life in the education industry?”

“Chaotic,” I tell him. “The first part of the school year is always crazy, but my kiddos are settling in pretty well.”

A low moan grabs my attention, and I look over at Phoebe and Hawke. I narrow my eyes when the pillow on Phoebe’s lap moves over Hawke’s hand.

“Okay!” I say slapping my hands on my lap and standing from the sofa. “Well, I’m so glad everyone could come tonight, but I’m super tired and need to get some sleep.”

If I let this go on any longer, I’m going to have to have my couch dry cleaned.

I make eye contact with Jillian, doing my best to communicate my disappointment. Her face sobers, and she has enough humility to stop her performance immediately. Hawke, on the other hand, is so engrossed in production that he doesn’t cease his actions until Justin stands and clears his throat rudely.

Jillian looks despondent at his actions, but clearly doesn’t take her own behavior into account. I love the woman to death, but accountability is not one of her strengths.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she says after a quick kiss on the cheek. She squeezes my hand in lieu of apologizing.

Hawke mutters a quick “thanks” and leaves with Phoebe.

Thankfully, Justin sticks around long enough to help me get things cleaned up before making his way to the door. I follow him out on the porch and wrap my arms around my waist.

“You going to be okay?” he asks stepping in for a hug.

“Of course,” I tell him. It’s the truth. I’ve accepted my grief; it’s become a daily part of my life, but I don’t let it control me.

“Liar,” he says in my ear. “I’m here if you need me.”

“I appreciate that,” I whisper softly as he pulls away and kisses my cheek.

I watch as he makes his way to his truck. My eyes follow his taillights all the way down my driveway until they disappear into the night.

I’m home alone when all I really need right now is a distraction from life.

Kegan

It’s official; I’m a creeper, borderline stalker.

I’ve resisted any and all urges to cross over onto Lexi’s property all week. I’ve worked shuffling other jobs so I can focus solely on this one. I haven’t seen her in days; if I had to guess, she’s been deliberately avoiding me. It wasn’t until I saw people show up at her house that the urge became irresistible.

Two couples and a man I know not only from work, but also because of London, showed up. Deductive reasoning tells me Justin Bland is there for Lexi. He is the man who had his eyes set on London after she disappeared for months while pregnant with Anastyn. I have a working relationship with Justin, but it’s strained because of his previous interest in my sister-in-law.

I’m not available.

Those three words, spoken last week, echo in my head as I sit in my truck and stare at her house like some detective on a stakeout. Her words are clear as day. She has no interest in me. It’s the hiccup in her body’s response to me that’s making me take pause and ignore our conversations. Her mouth says not interested, but her body is screaming for me to take charge. But, since I’m a firm believer in no-means-no, I’ve taken a step back.

I’ve left her alone all week, but watching Justin on the porch wrapping his arms around her, is my limit. His lips brush her cheek and my resolve snaps. She told me she was in a relationship, and I was willing to leave her alone, but she could do so much better than Justin Bland.

What are the chances that he’s been the one separating both Kadin and me from the women we’re focused on? More so Kadin because she was carrying his child when Justin tried to make his move. Okay, it was incredibly more complicated than that, but still.

Jealousy, a feeling I don’t experience often, is creeping into my bones. As much as the infrequent emotion makes me nervous, it’s still not enough to keep me from getting out of my truck and walking over to her door.

I knock with determination and stand, waiting for her to answer.

The door is pulled open. “Did you forget your…?”

Her question stops when she realizes it’s not Justin coming back after realizing a peck on the cheek wasn’t good enough on a Friday night.

“Kegan,” she says in a tone that hints at more relief than annoyance.

See? Mixed signals all over the place.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I have not,” she says standing a little straighter.

Her cheeks flush a light shade of pink betraying her lie.