The Love Syllabus

Chapter 14Soaked & Seduced – Kerry

Chapter 14

Soaked & Seduced – Kerry

“ R ise and shine, Grimes Family! Emergency Meeting! In the Living room! Right now! Move it, people!”

I storm through the house, knocking on every door like a drill sergeant and flipping on lights like I’m afraid of the dark.

A very sleepy Ari stumbles out first with her disheveled but cute ponytail, still rubbing her eyes.

Syd follows, dragging her crocheted bunny, barely able to stand upright.

“Ms. Kind,” Ari groans, flopping onto the couch.

“Why are we awake? The sun’s not even up yet.”

“Yeah,” Syd chimes in, her little voice barely above a mumble.

“What’d we ever do to deserve this punishment? I wanna go back to sleep.”

I shake my head and laugh.

“What in the world are you girls gonna do when you start public school? You’re gonna be late every day!”

One by one, everyone trudges into the living room like hostages, which makes me feel very pleased with my efforts.

Until Vic walks in.

My smile goes from wide to straight because sweet baby Jesus in a manger, this man is shirtless.

He’s completely bare-chested, broad with strong pecs and tattoos I’d love to trail my fingers down.

And, umm, umm, umm, his abs are cut-to-perfection.

Good Lord, why?

Why does he look so good at such an ungodly hour ?

And then there’s that damn vein running down his stomach, disappearing into his low-hanging pajama pants, and oh.

Oh no.

This is the absolute worst time for my x-ray vision to kick in because I see it…

the dick print!

Shit, and now, I feel it.

The tingle.

The low ache, that throbbing pulse between my legs that reminds me I’m a woman, and he’s a man, and he is too damn fine to be in my presence this early in the morning.

“Umm, I wanna put my mouth on it.” I swear on my mama’s Bible, I thought I said it in my head, but no.

I freeze.

The girls don’t hear, but Vic and the staff do.

Vic is standing there, one eyebrow raised, completely amused.

“Excuse me?” He asks.

His voice is way too deep, way too smug, and way too satisfied for my liking.

I snap back to reality, mortified and scrambling for a recovery.

“Uh, um— I mean! I mean, breakfast!” I blurt.

“I want to put my mouth on your French Toast! It looks so good. I mean, it tasted so good last time.”

Syd and Ari burst into full-blown laughter.

Ms.

Tina is laughing so hard she’s bent over while Gary just shakes his head.

“Ms. Kind, you’re so weird!” Syd says, thankfully amused by my silliness rather than embarrassing raunchiness.

Vic just smirks, devastatingly smirks.

He casually leans against the doorway, tattoos flexing, vein popping, abs still ab-ing, and then, with all the cocky, morning-voiced arrogance in the world, he murmurs, “You’re welcome to have a taste anytime, Ms. Kind.”

I choke.

Ms.

Tina wheezes.

Gary walks out of the room.

And Syd, oblivious and adorable, claps her hands together.

“Yay! French toast for breakfast!”

I clear my throat and immediately change the subject.

“What I actually meant to say was what the heck are you wearing or not wearing rather?”

Good job, Kerry!

Way to turn it around on him.

However, I realize he’s looking at me like I should be the one in the hot seat.

Then, I make the grave mistake of looking myself over from top to bottom.

Vic threw off my entire morning presentation.

I completely forgot I’m not in my pajamas.

Instead, I’m standing in a full-body black spandex wetsuit, complete with a giant pink donut floatie around my waist and freaking flipper shoes .

“...Well, this is awkward,” I mumble.

The room erupts.

Everyone’s laughing in confusion.

Vic shakes his head, grinning.

“Ms. Kind, what the hell are you wearing?”

I straighten my back, proudly flipping my hair over my shoulder.

“Today’s the Annual Beach Bum Parade, duh!” I announce dramatically.

“Did y’all forget? I’ve been working here for nearly two months, and I’ve been talking about the parade dang near every day!”

Ari, still recovering from laughter, suddenly gasps.

“Oh yeah! I remember!” But then, her excitement dims, and she bites her lip.

“But I can’t go today. I really wanna go to soccer. It’s the last week of camp, and I’ve been training hard for academy tryouts, which are only a few weeks away.” She pouts, knowing good and well I can’t get mad at her cuteness.

Then, another betrayal hits me.

The little six-year-old traitor Syd raises her hand.

“Me too! I have dance practice! Coach says I’m a star, and I want to make a great impression before competition team tryouts.”

I place a dramatic hand over my chest.

“My little babies! Leaving me for extracurriculars.” I shake my head.

“Is there no loyalty in this house?”

Vic chuckles, but I whip my head to him.

“And what exactly are you laughing at? You better not have plans, too.”

His face twists like he’s trying not to laugh harder.

“Uh…work?”

I gasp.

“Work?!” I dramatically throw my hands in the air and turn to Ms.

Tina and Gary.

“Do you hear this? Work. This man is choosing responsibility over a day of immature, reckless fun, per usual, despite me telling everyone to clear their schedule for one of my favorite days of the year!”

Ms.

Tina and Gary exchange glances.

Then, at the same time, they both raise their hands like over-eager students.

“You can still go, Ms. Kind. We’ll take the girls to their practice! You and Mr. Grimes can go together.” They volunteer.

Vic opens his mouth, probably to say work again, but just before Vicky appears out of nowhere.

“What a great idea! Vic, you do need to take a day off!”

“What? Where’d you even come from? Give me my house key back.” Vic looks at her like she just sentenced him to life in prison.

She smirks as the girls excitedly embrace her.

“Nope. Take the day off. Have fun. Go wild. Smile, flirt, and take selfies! Lots of them. And don’t forget to post. Y’all are trending right now. ”

I grin.

“Yeah, Vic! We’re trending !” I tease, knowingly getting under his skin.

He rubs his temples.

“I don’t know who’s worse, you or my mother.” He grumbles, dragging a hand down his face, but finally concedes.

“Fine. But I’m not wearing flippers or that ridiculous floatie contraption.”

I beam, then grab the zipper of my wetsuit.

“Neither am I.”

I slowly unzip, dramatically, until the black wetsuit falls to my feet.

And underneath?

A hot , hot pink bathing suit, barely concealed by a thin netted cover up.

It’s sexy, revealing, yet tasteful, leaving just enough room for the imagination behind Victor Grimes’ x-ray vision to now kick in.

He stops breathing.

His jaw tightens, and his nostrils flare.

He swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, and sweet baby teenager Jesus, this man looks hungry!

No, starving.

I tilt my head, grinning.

“See? No flippers.”

Vic doesn’t say a word.

He just stares.

And stares.

And stares.

Syd nudges Ari and giggles as Ari sighs and whispers loudly, “And Daddy’s making googly eyes at Ms. Kind again.”

Vic grumbles something incoherent, turns around, and storms off toward his room.

Vicky just howls in laughter, shaking her head.

“ You two are gonna have so much fun.”

~~~

After we eat breakfast, we get dressed and pack up for the best beach day ever.

We choose a beach baddie of a car, a Porsche 911 Cabriolet.

Vic slides into the driver’s seat, adjusting his sunglasses and looking every bit the part of a man who doesn’t want to enjoy himself.

“It doesn’t cost a thing to smile, Chef Grey Beard,” I say, throwing my beach bag into the backseat before settling into the passenger seat.

He smirks, turning the key in the ignition.

“I’ll smile when I have a reason to, which hasn’t happened, yet. ” He counters smoothly, shifting gears as we pull out of the driveway.

I roll my eyes, then stretch my legs out, letting the wind whip through my hair.

“Oh, don’t worry, Chef, I got your smiles alright,” I tease, slipping my sunglasses on with a smirk.

“By the end of today, not only will you have fun, but you’ll be begging me for more. ”

Vic glances at me, his eyes trailing down the length of my legs, over the curve of my thighs while licking his lips before flicking back to the road.

His grip on the steering wheel tightens.

“Oh, Ms. Kind,” he mutters, voice thick with something sinful.

“We’ll see who’s gonna be begging by the end of the day.”

Vic takes off, and we venture to Beverly Mills Beach—my side of town.

The hour-long drive to the beach is pure vibes.

The music is loud.

The energy is high, and the debates are heated.

“You can’t sit here and tell me Outkast didn’t change the game,” I argue, throwing a dramatic hand in the air.

Vic glances over, one hand on the wheel, the other resting dangerously close to my thigh.

“I never said they didn’t. But you’re delusional if you think they can out-bar Nas or Biggie.”

I scoff.

“Sir, Nas had Illmatic. Outkast had a whole era. A movement. They were a cultural reset.”

He laughs, shaking his head.

“You’re so dramatic.”

“And you love it.”

He hums, like he’s not about to agree with me, but I can see the smirk tugging at his lips.

And even though I’m gearing up to hit him with another solid point, the song changes, instantly shifting the vibe.

Oh no.

Not a freaky, deeky, panty-dropping, between-the-sheets love song.

The sensual bass, the slow, pleading lyrics—it’s the kind of song that ends with warm hands and tangled limbs.

My breath catches, and I feel Vic shift beside me.

His fingers drum against the steering wheel.

“I guess R&B ain’t dead after all,” he murmurs, voice low, contemplative.

“But you gotta admit, it went dormant for a while. I guess people are ready to feel something again.”

I nod, sinking into the sound and letting it settle into my skin.

“Mmm. I missed this. Real love songs. Real feelings. Real yearning. Slow, sexy, make-you-tremble, make-you-wet kind of songs.”

I open my eyes, shocked by my own words, and notice Vic’s grip on the wheel tightening yet again, but I pretend not to notice.

Somewhere in the mix of it all, between the teasing and our effortless conversation, our hands graze on the console.

Just a light touch—a small, passing moment , nothing deep, nothing that requires a closer look, just a light, gentle, wanted touch.

However, the next time it happens, it’s not an accident.

His fingers slowly skim over mine.

The weight of his touch is barely there, but it’s enough to make my skin tingle.

Enough to send something warm and slow curling through my stomach.

And then, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, his hand drifts further.

Lower.

And suddenly, his palm now rests on my thigh.

His touch isn’t urgent or demanding.

It’s just there as a calm, unshaken claim.

It’s like he’s done it a thousand times before.

Like he should’ve been doing it all along.

His thumb brushes my thigh once.

Just once.

That’s all it takes for heat to pool between my legs so fast that I swear I should be embarrassed.

But I’m not.

Because I know that he knows exactly what he’s doing.

And the worst part?

I want to spread my thighs.

I want to let him slide higher.

I want to feel his fingers inside me.

Instead, I shift in my seat and ignore the ache, but when I glance over at him, his jaw is tight, and he’s smirking.

This smug bastard.

“You good over there, Ms. Kind?” His voice is smooth.

Amused.

I roll my eyes and cross my arms.

“I’m fine, Mr. Grimes.”

But just like that, the moment slips away.

The spell breaks as the car slows to a stop, and I blink, pulling myself out of the haze to take in the sight ahead.

Hundreds.

No, thousands of people stretch across the sand with coolers stacked high, towels spread out everywhere, and water toys strapped to backs like artillery.

The energy is electric as people run into the ocean, some already dripping wet, others gathering in groups plotting their next move.

Vic steps out of the car, and his face immediately twists in suspicion.

His arms cross over his chest as he eyes the scene like he’s been set up.

“Kerry…” he says slowly.

“What kind of parade is this again?”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing, then reach into the backseat, sling my oversized bag over my shoulder, and turn to face him with a smirk.

“Oh, it’s not just a parade,” I say sweetly, pulling out the biggest, most ridiculous Super Soaker I could find.

“It’s a water fight.” I declare.

Vic blinks.

“Excuse me? ”

I grin wider, tossing him his Super Soaker, fully locked and loaded.

“Now,” I say, adjusting my bikini top and stretching like an athlete before game time.

“Get ready to have some fun.”

Vic looks angry and grumpy as usual, but I see that little smile trying to poke through.

“Come on!” I yell, laughing as we weave through the madness.

“I gotta make sure our spot isn’t taken. The pier is the perfect hideout for a counterattack.”

We push through the crowd, but of course, we can’t get anywhere without being stopped by dozens of fans.

Vic grumbles under his breath as we get stopped at least six times for selfies.

He tries to fight it at first, but once a group of old ladies starts calling him The Fine Dining Daddy , he gives up.

I smirk, whispering in his ear, “You’re famous, Grey Beard. Might as well embrace it.”

He sighs, tossing an arm around my shoulder and fake-smiling for a picture.

After another five minutes of playing America’s favorite hot chef, we finally make it to the pier, where we spot Serena, Kiera, Izzy, and their husbands already posted up like royalty waiting to siege.

Serena suddenly grabs a random guy standing next to her and pulls him close.

“Hey, you’re my date today since everyone wants to be boo’d up,” she announces dramatically, only to shove him away right after.

“Actually, never mind. I enjoy my freedom.”

Everyone bursts into laughter, and I finally introduce Vic to Izzy’s husband.

“Vic, this is Gabe a.k.a Mr. Money Bags. He invented like, ten different apps none of us understand.” I say, gesturing toward Vic, who gives a polite nod as he extends his hand.

Gabe chuckles, shaking Vic’s hand.

“I promise I’m only half as impressive as she makes me sound.”

Next, I nod toward Hawkins, who’s already smirking.

“And of course, you already know Coach Hawkins, who’s also Gabe’s business partner.”

Vic narrows his eyes.

“Yeah, but shouldn’t you be at practice right now?”

Hawkins blinks.

“During the Beach Bum Parade?” He scoffs.

“Bro, everything is shut down today. ”

“Wait…” I frown.

“Even dance practice?”

My friends answer in unison.

“Everything.”

Vic and I freeze.

I can’t believe I forgot the town is shut down!

I should’ve known better.

And then it clicks.

Slowly, we turn to look at each other as we realize we’ve been fooled .

“It seems we have two masterminding angels on our hands. I think my star students have set us up.” I smile, still processing their adorable betrayal.

Vic exhales, shaking his head, half-amused, half-irritated.

“I think everyone in the house did.”

We erupt into laughter, and I don’t know whether to be offended or impressed by their genius.

The water fight is insane – absolute mayhem.

Screams and laughter echo across the beach as people dodge, duck, and dive behind anything they can use as cover.

Water balloons explode like tiny grenades, and Super Soakers unleash torrents of cold water.

I’m in my element.

Slick Vic, however, thinks he’s safe.

He thinks he’s too quick, too agile to be caught.

But as usual, he’s wrong.

I spot him near the pier, shaking out his trunks, looking way too fine and way too smug for someone who’s about to get annihilated.

Creeping up behind him, I take perfect aim and…

WHOOSH.

Serena and I douse him with a bucket of ice-cold water from head to toe.

He freezes, but I shriek with laughter.

Then, he slowly turns, his eyes dark, and his lips twisted in a sinister smirk.

“Oh, you think that’s funny?”

I take one look at the pure vengeance in his eyes and do the only logical thing that comes to mind.

The same thing I did the first night we met.

I run.

And Vic chases me through the crowd, around the pier, and across the sand.

Until…

splash!

I squeal as Vic gently tackles me into the ocean.

His strong arms lock around my waist as the waves crash over us.

I surface, laughing, and find him close behind me until he pulls me close against him like he never wants to let go.

He grips my waist, and our bodies feel hot against each other despite the cool water.

For a moment , the world fades, and the battle noise disappears.

In this moment, it’s just us.

My breath catches as his fingers slide up my arms, slow and deliberate.

My body hums, my heart pounds, and before I do something really reckless like kiss him in front of the entire damn town, I quickly spin out of his grip and splash him instead.

We enjoy the rest of our beach date together building castles, laughing with friends, and writing T he Chef + The Teacher in the sand for everyone to see.

Of course, we continue to remind ourselves it’s all for show.

We try to convince ourselves, but the lines are blurring, and I don’t even know if I want to draw them anymore.

Under the shade of private, elegant white canopies is where my bougie friends have outdone themselves.

There is blackened shrimp ceviche, crab-stuffed avocado halves, and fresh fruit platters arranged like they belong in a damn art exhibit.

Fancy bottled water glistens in ice buckets, and servers move about, making sure not a single flute of sparkling lemonade goes empty.

Vic raises a brow.

“ This is lunch? I’m impressed.” He eyes the spread as if he’s picking apart every ingredient used.

Serena smirks.

“This is a Southern beach brunch, Chef. Keep up.”

We eat.

We drink.

And then, when the socializing dies down, Vic and I find ourselves tucked away in the private lounge area, where the waves crash softly in the distance, and our conversation flows from left to right.

“You know,” I say, swirling my drink, “your tattoos and your personality don’t match.”

Vic lifts a brow, acting offended.

“Excuse me?”

I gesture to the black and gold ink covering his chest and arms, the script curling over his ribs, the symbols of something deeper, untamed.

“You’re a super serious businessman and broody chef. But this?” I drag a finger over a design near his wrist.

“This tells me you used to be a little reckless.”

He smirks, stretching his arms behind his head, leaning back like a king on his throne.

“The most reckless of them all.”

My mouth falls open.

“No way. You? Victor Grimes? A wild one?”

“Frat boy. Party boy. Playboy. College legend. Take your pick. ”

“Say what, now? I gasp, clutching my imaginary pearls. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised.

Your fuckboy ways still peak through sometimes.

”

He laughs.

“And you? Let me guess. You were the sweet, studious, rule-following, college girl still dating her high school sweetheart.”

I glare and groan, mortified but impressed.

“Okay, yes , but to be fair. My journey is no different than most in this town. You go to school, get married young, and then have kids. It’s a peaceful life. A good one.” I pause, then snort.

“But clearly not for me!”

We laugh.

But then, the conversation dips into deeper waters.

Vic’s voice softens.

“By the way, I heard your mom ask if I could prepare a quick meal for her Bible Study group. Consider it done. Your daily calls with her are hilarious. Reminds me of how my family used to be.” His voice shifts, something distant in his gaze.

“I was always closer to my mom, and Hud was closer to our dad. But together, our family just fit . ”

He pauses, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

And then, so quietly, he slips.

“I miss them,” His voice trembles.

“Both of them.”

I know exactly who them are.

His dad.

His wife.

I gently reach for his hand.

“Vic, I’m here if you ever need ta—”

He cuts me off.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I never will.”

The warmth between us vanishes like snapped string.

I nod, pulling my hand back slowly, unsure what to do with the silence that settles between us.

Vic doesn’t look at me.

His eyes stay locked on the waves in the distance, jaw tight and shoulders rigid.

I wrap my arms around myself and glance out toward the bright, shimmering water.

It’s beautiful, filled with people laughing in the distance – the kind of day most people dream about.

But between us, the sun might as well have gone out.

But when his eyes flicker to my arms and he notices the goosebumps on my skin, his demeanor changes.

“You’re cold,” he says.

Gruff.

Quiet.

But not unkind.

Before I can respond, he reaches into the bag beside him, pulls out the blanket, and holds it open.

His body stays tense, like he’s still wrestling with something inside him, but his voice softens just enough.

“Come here. ”

I hesitate.

“ Kerry .” His voice is low and rough.

A demand and a request all at once.

I go.

I slowly slide into his lap .

Not all at once, not with confidence but with hope.

And when he wraps the blanket around me, then his arms around the blanket, I melt into the heat of him.

We don’t say much.

We don’t need to.

Our silence lingers, but it’s different now.

It’s softer.

Not quite peace, but not war either.

Just the kind of quiet that says: I’m not ready to open up yet, but I’m trying.

So, I don’t push.

I just rest against his chest and listen to the steady, grounding rhythm of his heartbeat.

After a long, wild day, I close my eyes and allow sleep to take me under.

But just before I drift off, he leans in, and his lips graze my ear to whisper something only I can hear.

“I had fun today.” His voice is soft, laced with something vulnerably dangerous .

“And you were right… you do make me want to beg for more .”

~~~

By the next day, every talk show, blog, and social media account is wondering who I am.

The following week, the entire country is ‘shipping’ Chef Grimes and His Decadent Dessert.

This morning, I wake up earlier than usual to see him off to work, but I’m met with a not-so-professional, more playfully romantic hug from behind.

He smirks, then places a magazine down on the counter, front and center, displaying a picture of us out on the town.

“It seems your syllabus is working.” His voice is smooth, teasing.

“We’re fooling everyone.”

I smile, but my heart knows better as I lean back into the comfort of his embrace.

He’s right.

We ’ re fooling everyone…

except me.