Chapter 12 #2
Earlier that day, he’d been working in the offices of the Law Journal, which were housed in the library, when he glanced out the window and saw Daniela charging toward the building, looking mad enough to spit nails.
Curious, he’d paused in his task to watch her, wondering who, or what, had pissed her off.
He’d been sorely tempted to go to her—just to find out if everything was okay, he told himself.
It had taken sheer willpower to stay right where he was. But his concentration was shot to hell, knowing she was in the same building. Finally, when he couldn’t take it anymore, he’d packed up his stuff and left campus, driving until he found himself on the way to his father’s ranch.
He’d spent the whole ride alternately thinking about her, and calling himself all kinds of a damn fool for letting her get under his skin so easily.
In the five years he’d been teaching, this was the first and only time he’d ever been so affected by a student.
Sure, there’d been more than a few beautiful girls whose sultry smiles had made him wonder how anyone could possibly maintain a celibate lifestyle.
But he’d never been tempted to cross the line with any of them.
His willpower had always been strong, if not ironclad.
Until now.
Until Daniela Moreau stepped through the door of his classroom on Monday morning, shattering all precedents.
Just being near her was like being trapped in the most seductive spider’s web, silky and warm and thrilling but exceedingly dangerous.
Caleb was determined to keep himself from being ensnared, no matter how enticing this particular temptress proved to be.
It was after seven when he got home that evening.
Craving a drink and a cigar, he poured himself a glass of whiskey and had just taken the first deep swallow when his phone buzzed with an incoming FaceTime call.
He grinned when he looked at the screen and saw the familiar face of Brandon Chambers, one of his closest friends since college and now a junior senator in Congress.
Welcoming the distraction, Caleb swiped to answer the call.
“Look at this distinguished gentleman,” he drawled, carrying his whiskey outside to the terrace. “Still crusading to save the republic, Senator Chambers?”
“Damn right.” Brandon’s grin was wide, dimples flashing. “Still terrorizing hapless 1Ls, Professor Thorne?”
“Damn right.”
Brandon’s deep, infectious laugh rumbled through the phone. He was framed by stately columns that lined the sprawling veranda of the governor’s mansion in Austin. The setting sun shot blood-orange streaks across the sky behind him.
“Wassup, bro?” Caleb said, leaning against the wrought iron balcony rail of his terrace. “Everything good?”
“Better than good,” Brandon crowed. “Cause I’m about to prove somebody wrong.”
“Nope. Not today,” a deep, indignant voice insisted off-screen. The voice belonged to Beau Chambers—Brandon’s younger brother, a famous sports agent and perennial troublemaker.
“Alright, alright, we need you to settle an argument for us, Caleb,” Brandon said as Beau swaggered into the frame, a glass of dark liquid cradled in his hand. The two brothers stood shoulder to shoulder, the picture of inherited power and dark good looks.
“What’s the issue?” Caleb drawled, lips already twitching.
“We ran into someone today. A certain someone from college that Beau once claimed he was going to marry. When we saw her today—looking finer than ever and happily married—Beau suddenly caught a case of amnesia and acted like he barely remembered her. When I kindly reminded him that he used to be obsessed with her, he swore I was tripping, that she wasn’t even his type back in the day.
So I’m like, Alright, bet. I know who can settle this.
” Brandon grinned at Caleb, his dark eyes gleaming with anticipation.
“I know you know exactly who I’m talking about.
Say her name so I can shut this clown up once and for all. ”
“Hmm.” Caleb took a slow sip of his whiskey, the warmth spreading through him as he pretended to contemplate the glittering city lights. “Let’s see,” he began, drawing out the words for dramatic effect, “her name was…Tedra.”
Beau erupted in loud protest as Brandon crowed triumphantly, “Told you!”
Caleb laughed, shaking his head at Beau. “How you gonna lie, bruh? Tedra was one of the few girls on campus who wouldn’t give you the time of day, and it drove you absolutely crazy. The more she ignored you, the more you wanted her.”
“Even if that’s true,” Beau challenged, his voice an irritated grumble, “when did I ever say I was gonna marry her?”
“That night at the frat party, three weeks before Brandon and I graduated. You’d been whining about the end of an era, how everything would be different once we started law school, how we’d be no fun anymore.
All of your friends were cramming for finals—which, if you were doing the same, your history grade wouldn’t have dropped to a B minus.
Tsk-tsk. So anyway, you talked us into going to the party that night because you knew Tedra would be there.
So while she was dancing with ol’ boy—her future husband—you tried to cut in and got rejected.
Your jaw literally dropped. Nothing like that had ever happened to you before.
Stunned but undefeated, you stalked back over to us and confidently declared, and I quote: ‘That’s alright.
We’ll have a good laugh over this one day when she’s my wife and the mother of my five sons.
She just doesn’t know it yet.’” Caleb paused, one brow cocked. “Shall I go on, or we good?”
Brandon threw back his head and howled with laughter.
Beau shook his head slowly at Caleb. “Yo, you got an eidetic memory or something?”
Caleb grinned. “I believe that’s what the kids call receipts.”
Beau scoffed with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “Let’s not make a big deal out of this. It’s not like I have trouble getting broads—”
“Except Tedra,” Caleb taunted smugly. “That one’s gonna haunt your arrogant black ass forever.”
Brandon burst into another deep rumble of laughter.
Caught between a scowl and a grin, Beau jabbed his finger at Caleb. “No more ‘brother from another mother’ talk. You’re dead to me, man.”
“Aw, that hurts my feelings.” Caleb grinned, enjoying the easy camaraderie that only years of shared history could forge.
As Beau stalked back inside grumbling, Brandon shot Caleb a grateful grin. “Thanks for bringing receipts. I knew I wasn’t tripping.”
“Nah, you weren’t. Beau is the king of revisionist historians.”
“For real. But he can’t try that shit with you, professor.”
“Nope.” Grinning, Caleb gestured to Brandon with his whiskey glass. “Still enjoying your August recess?”
“Definitely,” Brandon admitted, sighing. “I feel like I haven’t had a moment’s peace since January.”
“I can imagine,” Caleb said with grim sympathy. “The Senate must be a circus.”
“It’s a different kind of circus. Less popcorn, more existential dread,” Brandon joked, though a certain weariness in his eyes hinted at the relentless pace of DC life.
“Just got in from Houston, actually. Held a town hall and some meet-and-greets, answered a bunch of questions about the education bill. It’s hot as fuck back home, but folks were fired up and the turnout was insane. ”
“When don’t you draw big crowds?” Caleb drawled.
Brandon chuckled, running a hand over his immaculate low-cut fade, a familiar gesture that meant he was thinking hard. “I was on CNN last night. They tried to paint me into a corner on the infrastructure spending, but I think I managed to pivot before I started rambling.”
“I saw the segment,” Caleb told him. “You were sharp, man. Clear and concise. Refreshingly honest.”
Brandon always brought his A game, even when he claimed otherwise. It was part of his political armor, part of his natural magnetism. He was one of the smartest people Caleb had ever known, his brilliance matched only by his confidence and charisma.
He gave Caleb a wry look as he sat on the porch swing. “You really don’t think I looked tired? Cause I sure as hell felt tired.”
“Which is to be expected with a newborn at home,” Caleb said. “But you didn’t look or sound tired, Superman. So relax.”
“Relax? What’s that?” Brandon flashed him a rueful half grin, only one dimple appearing. “So how’s life in academia these days? Enjoying a new year of corrupting young minds with your radical legal theories?”
Caleb shrugged. “Someone’s gotta do it.”
“And who better than you, right?” Brandon suddenly snapped his fingers, his eyes twinkling with amused excitement.
“Yo, you know what I was thinking about yesterday? Remember how we used to talk about starting our own law firm someday? We envisioned some sort of multinational firm with a large civil rights division and a dedicated pro bono team to serve marginalized communities.” He smiled a little. “I still think about that sometimes.”
“Me too, man,” Caleb admitted with a nostalgic chuckle. “Creeps up on me every now and then.”
Settling back in the white painted porch swing, Brandon gestured grandly with his hand. “Just imagine our names on the door: Chambers, Thorne and Associates.”
“Has a nice ring to it,” Caleb mused thoughtfully. “Thorne, Chambers and Associates sounds even better.”
They both laughed.
“Seriously, though.” Caleb swallowed some whiskey. “You know my old man’s been trying to lure me back to the firm for years. He’d probably lose his shit if I went rogue and launched my own empire.”
“Probably,” Brandon agreed, smiling. “Good thing it’s just a pipe dream, right? I mean, you’ve found the joys of academia, and I’ve found the unique joys of shouting down political opponents and telling foreign lobbies to kiss my black ass.”