Chapter 16 Scarlett
SCARLETT
Cross’s voice carries down the hall as I step off the last stair and head toward the kitchen. The flash drive I’ve compiled some of his finished course work onto sits heavy in the palm of my hand as I walk quietly down the hall for no other reason than to eavesdrop.
“Did you just call me an escuincle? Again?” Cross’s tone is playful, and I can’t help but wonder who he’s talking to.
For once, he doesn’t sound arrogant and broody.
I also can’t help but find his Spanish attractive.
I scrunch my nose. Ugh.
“I am not being impossible,” he argues.
Who is he talking to?
A girlfriend?
I scoff quietly. Cross doesn’t do girlfriends—from what I’ve heard, at least.
“I’m going to have to repay Robert, Mamá. I don’t like handouts.”
The realization hits me like a freight train. Of course he’s talking to his mother. Who else would he be using that softer tone with?
“He isn’t my papá.” Cross pauses. “I’ve turned out just fine with you raising me.”
He huffs, and I lean forward to get an eyeful. He pinches the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other holding the phone up to his ear. Irritation etches onto his face, his jaw taking its usual hot–I mean, edgy—form.
All of a sudden, Cross untightens his fingers along his nose, and his eyes flick to mine. I jerk out of sight, my cheeks burning with humiliation from being caught.
“I’ve gotta go, Mamá,” Cross’s smooth voice floats down the hall to where I’m hiding. “My study partner is here.”
I roll my eyes so hard I see stars. Study partner must be another word for slave.
After Cross hangs up, I gather my bearings and walk into the kitchen where he’s standing with his back against the counter. As usual, he’s his typical arrogant self, arms crossed with his biceps on full display, the tattoos naturally catching my eye, long blinks as he eyes me closely.
I hold out the flash drive for him to take.
“Here, study partner,” I snark.
The scent of rich coffee fills the kitchen, and my mouth waters for a taste, but since Cross was the one to brew it this morning, I refuse to pour myself a cup.
Cross’s mouth lifts on the side with my arm still outstretched, holding the flash drive with half of his completed course work.
He moves at a snail's pace, my pulse gaining momentum with each stride. Eventually, he grabs a hold of it. Our fingers brush, and electricity zaps all the way up my arm. I pull my hand away and put my back to him so he can’t see the blush spreading across my cheeks.
It’s the tattoos. They’re distracting.
“And this is?” He draws out his words, his voice lingering in our quiet kitchen.
“Three weeks’ worth of your course work done,” I clip.
He snorts. “Tell me you don’t have a life without telling me.”
I spin around in a fury, my hair skimming past my face to show him how irritated I am. “What does that say about you, then?” My arms cross against my chest defensively. “You’ve been following me around like some sort of babysitter, so does that mean you don’t have a life either?”
Cross’s eyebrows dip for a brief second before he smoothes his face. “If you didn’t act like such a baby when you ran into Nicholas, then maybe I wouldn’t have to babysit you.”
His words light a fire inside of me.
My teeth grind. “I did not act like a baby.”
Cross pushes the flash drive into his pocket lazily and shrugs. “You were shaking like a leaf, Scar.”
I gasp at the nickname and take a step away.
Cross’s eyebrow hitches with the tilt of his head.
Shit. I hate it when he’s right.
A frustrated noise leaves me as I spin around and stalk down the hallway.
He calls after me, “And where are you going?”
“None of your business!” I yell over my shoulder.
The metal doorknob does nothing to cool the burn of embarrassment on my skin. I forcibly pull the door open and take a step onto the porch before coming to a complete halt. My heart drops, and I instinctively take a step backward into something hard.
Cross’s arm winds around my waist, and he steadies me against his chest.
“Watch it,” he bites out.
My spine locks as I stare at the black SUV parked across the road.
That’s three times in the last two days that I’ve seen it.
I grab onto Cross’s arm holding me upright. My nails dig into his skin, and I tell myself to push him away, but instead, I just stand immobile.
“What is with you?” Cross asks, his voice muffled by the pounding inside my ears.
I swallow my thick spit. “I keep seeing that SUV.”
He shifts behind me, my nails still digging into his skin. I’m half hopeful I’ll leave painful marks behind, but then that’d just remind him that I didn’t push him away and instead held onto him like he is a lifeline.
“And you think it’s Nick?” he asks, already knowing the answer.
“He has one like it.” I’d know–since he got handsy in the backseat once.
A gust of morning wind brushes past us, and I inhale deeply. My eyes widen, the air lodged inside my lungs, as the window on the SUV begins to roll down…only to reveal someone other than Nicholas.
My chest deflates. “It’s not him,” I say with relief.
The tight grip I have on Cross’s arm lessens, my nails removing themselves from his warm skin. Except, to my shock, he doesn’t let me go.
Instead, his grip tightens.
He tugs me backward through the door before slamming it shut.
“What are you–” My sentence stays on the tip of my tongue.
Cross spins me around hastily, his eyes wild with something I can’t name. He pushes me up against the wall with his hand glued to my hip while the other fiddles with the alarm system right beside my head.
He sets the alarm, the faint beeping noises mixing in with my heartrate, and then slices his fierce, dark eyes over to me. “A black SUV has been following you?”
I open my mouth and croak out a noise. His eyes bounce back and forth between mine, waiting patiently for me to answer him.
“Yes–no.” I shake my head and look away. “I don’t know. I mean, I thought Nicholas was, b–but…” Cross’s free hand grips my chin firmly. He pulls me to look at him again, and I feel my stomach twist with something other than irritation.
“But what?” he snaps.
“But it’s not him. I’m just being…”
The hold Cross has on my hip gets stronger. His fingers brush against the sliver of skin peeking from below the bundling of my shirt, and I’m suddenly at a loss for words. His tongue slips out of his mouth to wet his lip, and my entire body grows warm.
What the fuck.
“I’m just being paranoid,” I blurt.
I try to push off from the wall, but Cross doesn’t move an inch. I’m trapped. I can’t even turn my face away with the tight grip he has on my chin.
“What exactly did he do to you?”
The question draws out of his mouth with slow curiosity. He surveys my expression before his gaze trails down my rapidly rising chest, only to snap his eyes back up once more.
I lie, my cheeks giving me away immediately. “Nothing.”
Cross’s eyes narrow. The brown color that was once warm moments ago turns dark. “You need to learn self-defense.”
I gape at him, a scoff coming next. “I’m fine. Like I said, it's not Nicholas.”
His jaw flexes. “But it’s someone."
Okay, now he’s being paranoid.
Does he have a point? Yes.
It would at least make me feel better if I had some way to defend myself if, God forbid, I find myself alone with Nicholas, or someone like him, but I’m not agreeing with Cross.
“Fighting is your thing, not mine,” I argue.
I push on Cross’s arm, and to my surprise, he lets me go. I round the stairs, rushing to escape into my bedroom, but his voice follows me.
“Get dressed for the gym. We leave in ten.”
I stop mid-step and grab the hand railing.
I peer down the flight of stairs at Cross, who is staring up at me with a look that should scare me.
Instead, it does the opposite. For a brief second, I let down my guard and allow that hot glare to do what my body wants it to do, and I regret it almost immediately when heat washes over me.
I quickly put my back to him. “Or what?” I snap, irritated at him and his stupid glare.
“Or I’ll come up there and dress you,” he threatens. “Ten minutes, Scarlett.”
I run up the stairs and rush toward my bedroom to get dressed, but little does he know, I’m actually running from him.