Chapter 6
Ididn’t have a lot of experience with basements, but I was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to be large and airy. My brows drew together as I hit the big open space at the bottom of the stairs. The last of the daylight spilled in through tall windows to the right, and three offices lined the wall to the left. In the middle, desks clustered at odd angles as if a tornado had recently wound through.
The rapid clicking of a keyboard came from the closest office, so I squared my shoulders and prepared to apologize for being late. When I rounded the office door, though, a stranger looked up from his typing. Slender, with messy black hair, dark eyes, and pronounced cheekbones, the guy grinned at me.
“You must be Avery. I’m Marco Lawson.”
He stood up to shake my hand, and I realized he was tall, really tall. I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes, and I wasn’t particularly short. He wore all black, loose cargo pants and what looked like a band shirt. Even his fingernails were painted black, though they were chipping pretty badly.
I tried not to make any snap judgments, but he couldn’t have been much older than me, which made him a student and definitely not the professor I’d expected to meet. As a general rule, I avoided being alone with strange men, so I didn’t move closer to shake his hand.
Cole may have been on to something with my habit of assuming people were out to kill me.
“Where’s Professor Adkins?” I asked him.
Marco let his hand drop. “Jonah stepped out to grab dinner. The delivery guys never come down here, no matter how many times we ask them not to leave food at the top of the stairs.”
I frowned, both at the first name usage and the flaw in his explanation. “I didn’t see him when I came in.”
He pointed to the back corner past the windows, and I noticed the emergency exit door I’d missed on the first pass. “Jonah has the code, so we take advantage of the proximity to the parking lot.”
Through the wavy glass, I could make out the vague shape of another human. “Are you one of the editors?”
Marco laughed. “Hell, no. I’m just a grunt writer slash photographer slash marketing genius.” He gestured to one of the haphazard desks with two chairs on opposite sides. “Why don’t we sit out here? You can even take the seat closest to the stairs so you stop looking like you might run any second.”
I pursed my lips and took the inside chair. “I don’t run.”
A gleam of respect entered his eyes and he nodded, sitting down opposite me. “Good to know a challenge motivates you. A word of warning? Never let Seb know. He’ll use it to his advantage.”
“Who’s Seb?”
Annoyance flashed across Marco’s face, then disappeared under a friendly smile. “Sebastian Fisher. Our asshole editor who hates nicknames, comfortable clothes, and fun.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I glanced at the emergency exit door again and found myself acutely aware of the seconds ticking past while Cole waited for me upstairs. Since Professor Adkins seemed busy, I might as well ask Marco my questions. “How many people work here?”
Marco pointed to the desks as he rattled off six names I had no hope of remembering, then jerked his thumb at the offices. “Seb has the middle office, Jonah has the corner, and the first one is for anyone who wants privacy. It also has the best chair, so be prepared to throw elbows if you want to use it.”
I filed the information away. “Do we have to work in here?”
“Nope. We’re encouraged to do most of our work elsewhere. If Seb had his way, he’d lock the doors and only let the upper level staff into these hallowed halls. Meaning him. I live in the dorms, so I’m happy to crush his dreams if it means I get more than four square feet of space to myself.”
My next question was interrupted by the emergency door slamming shut. Professor Adkins looked like a caricature of a young professor—holey jeans, thick sweater, and an absent-minded expression behind thin-framed black glasses, as if he was pleasantly surprised to see us. He carried two white sacks to the desk instead of heading for his office.
“Avery,” he greeted me with a big smile. “So glad you could make it. Would you like some sweet and sour chicken?”
My stomach turned at the thought. I hated sweet and sour sauce with a passion only equaled by the loathing for my ex-boyfriend. “No, thanks.”
Marco whooped. “Sweet. More for me.” He gathered two of the takeout boxes and shuffled back toward the community office. “Nice to meet you, Avery. I’ll be around all day tomorrow if you have more questions. Or just bring me lunch and keep me company.”
I laughed at the big lip and pleading eyes he sent me before closing the door, then sobered as I faced my potential new boss. “Professor Adkins?—”
“Call me Jonah,” he interrupted, uncovering his own food.
The vinegary smell wafted toward me, and I subtly leaned away. “Okay, Jonah, what do I need to know?”
“You’ll start off as a staff writer working under Sebastian Fisher. Since we’re a student-run paper, we’re considered a club and therefore can’t pay anyone except the editor, but your time here counts toward the requirements for your classes.”
I already knew I wouldn’t be getting paid, but I wasn’t there for the money. My spring journalism class required I get four articles published, so the position here was essentially an unpaid internship. More importantly, I wanted to spend as little time as possible at my dad’s house. I could keep haunting the library like I’d done since moving in, or I could do something useful for my future.
Jonah took a big bite of his dinner while I processed the details. He hadn’t mentioned the contention between Marco and Sebastian. Had he not noticed or was he turning a blind eye? I made a concentrated effort not to breathe through my nose and dug for an answer.
“Only one editor?” I asked.
“Yeah, we’re not a big operation. We cover the major events in the area, run an op-ed section, and keep track of the sports teams. All stories are due by Saturday afternoon. Papers get printed Sunday night, and we take turns delivering them across campus Monday morning. Sebastian handles it like a pro. I try to be as hands off as possible, but I spend my Tuesday and Thursday office hours in here, as well as most Sunday nights. Speaking of Sebastian, he should email you in the next day or two with more details and a comprehensive welcome.”
A piece of chicken fell from his fork, splatting on the desk in a disgusting glob, and I worked hard not to gag. “Are these desks assigned?”
“Greta doesn’t mind. This is her desk, but she prefers to never set foot in here. It’s weird. We used to be a tight-knit group, but the last year or two our writers have abandoned any semblance of working together.”
If Marco was right about Sebastian, I had a pretty good idea why no one ever wanted to work in this space. Honestly, I’d hoped for the bustling newsroom we’d had at my last school.
Jonah had already hired me, and since I wouldn’t be getting paid, I didn’t need to submit any paperwork. Today’s meeting was intended to get to know the people I’d be working with, but I hadn’t realized there’d be disgusting food involved. Better to keep my mouth shut for now and ask questions next time.
I didn’t want to end my first day by throwing up on Greta’s desk.
“Thanks for the introduction. I’ll be here Monday morning, bright and early to help deliver.”
“Great. Glad to have you on board.” When I stood, he held up a hand. “Hold on, I’ll have Marco walk you out.”
Before I could tell him I already had someone to walk me to my car, Jonah yelled for Marco, and my new friend came bounding out of the community office. “Done already?”
Jonah nodded at me. “Get her to her car, please.” He didn’t wait to see us off, simply waved as he took his dinner into his office and shut the door.
Marco offered Jonah’s back a salty salute. “My pleasure.”
I raised a brow at him, and he held up his hands.
“Not like that. My girlfriend works in the admin office above us.”
“Convenient,” I said blandly, not entirely convinced. He didn’t come across as the skeezy type, but one could never be sure.
He herded me toward the stairs. “She likes to say it’s nice we’re so close, but has she ever brought me lunch? No. I’m stuck here with old granola bars and cold coffee.”
I tilted my head at him, amused despite myself. “You could bring her lunch.”
“Do you know how far we are from the cafeteria? My wallet is crying at the lack of meal plan use. Shonda lives in an apartment off campus. She gets to actually eat at her place. Luckily, Jonah usually pays for dinner if I stay late.”
“Food motivated,” I mused. “I can work with that.”
He laughed and nodded in agreement. It was hard not to like Marco, but I’d withhold judgment until I got to know him better. Most people showed their true natures once they relaxed. Speaking of people I shouldn’t trust…
“I should warn you I already have an escort to my car.”
“No worries. I can escort you to your escort.”
We came over the top of the stairs, and Cole glanced up from his phone with a smolder-y look I really hoped Marco wouldn’t notice.
Marco whistled low. “Your escort is Cole Mathis? Lucky bitch.”
I gave him my best side-eye. “I thought you had a girlfriend?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “She understands my good taste.”
“You follow hockey?” I asked under my breath.
“No, I follow hot athletes. Have you seen his forearms?” Marco hissed back. “Introduce me.”
“Only if you behave yourself—he’s not a piece of meat.” My sudden protective instinct withered a bit when Cole’s smile turned sharp as he glanced from me to Marco.
I waved my first escort over to my second escort, who was surreptitiously wiping his palms on his pants. “Cole, this is Marco. He works at the paper, and he follows your career.”
Marco snorted quietly. “Yeah, big fan.”
Cole’s aggressive vibe eased, and he shook Marco’s hand. “Nice to meet you, man.”
Standing next to each other, Marco was almost as tall as Cole, but that was where the comparison ended. Cole’s easy grace and sheer bulk made Marco look skinny and awkward. My eyes drifted down to where their hands were briefly clasped, and a lick of flame curled in my belly at the lines of muscle in Cole’s forearm.
Marco cleared his throat, and I realized he’d caught me staring. When I glanced up, he gave me a look that clearly said see? I’d never noticed a man’s forearms before, but he wasn’t wrong. Cole was sexy everywhere apparently. I blamed Marco for the discovery and told him so with a raised eyebrow.
“You ready to go?” Cole seemed oblivious to our exchange, shifting to peer out the glass doors.
As predicted, the sun had set while I’d been talking to Jonah and Marco. I’d spent most of my life navigating busy city streets after dark, but I wasn’t going to dismiss the criminal element in Addison, Texas. Luckily, I had two guys flanking me who’d offered to get me to my car safely.
Maybe small-town life wasn’t too bad… but I couldn’t let the moment pass without testing it.
“As a reminder, I’m perfectly capable of walking the well-lit paths on campus back to my car alone.”
Cole’s gaze returned to mine, and a flare of warmth spread through my system like I’d taken a shot. He didn’t even have to say anything for me to know my attempt to be self-sufficient had fallen on deaf ears. Next to me, Marco smothered a laugh.
He nodded at Cole. “Looks like you got this handled, Mathis. See you Monday, Avery.” Marco nudged my shoulder on his way back to the stairs, and then I was alone with the off-limits hockey player.
Cole crossed his arms and let his gaze trail down my body. “Not a single orgasm?”
Heat crept up my neck—arousal rather than embarrassment. “Are we walking or not?”
I should have known he wouldn’t let it go after the way I lobbed the information at him as I left. Truthfully, I hadn’t intended for him to let it go. Despite my insistence to the contrary, I wanted Cole to look at me with that dangerous promise in his eyes.
I wanted him to want me—even if we absolutely couldn’t do anything about it. Maybe a part of the attraction was knowing someone wanted me after the absolute mindfuck of Scott’s gaslighting and infidelity. Thanks to my dad, I’d avoided dating athletes, but clearly, normal, slightly controlling, nice guys weren’t safe either.
Cole held the door open for me to go through first. “We’re walking, but don’t think you won.”
I smirked at him over my shoulder. “I always win. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”
Before we could move out from under the overhang, Cole caught my wrist. “What did he promise you for the tutoring? Your dad.”
I looked away, weirdly guilty for admitting my dad thought I’d needed to be bribed to help him. “There’s a writing intensive program this summer. Highly competitive. I got in, but I can’t afford the fees. Dad agreed to cover them. At the time, I’d thought he was trying to help.”
“Maybe he was.”
My throat closed up as I shook my head. “No. He was banking a favor for when he needed me—like his prize hockey player needing an English tutor with my exact skills. Lucky you.”
Cole’s lips twisted and he released me, leaving a tingling spot where he’d touched. “Lucky me. I didn’t want a tutor in the first place. Look, his motivations don’t have to affect anything between us. Your dad is a fantastic hockey coach, and I respect him a lot—but I don’t blindly follow his lead. What if we do our own thing?”
I crossed my arms. “What are you proposing?”
“Forget his deal. Make a deal with me.”
“Explain.”
“Tutor me. We’ll tell Coach you changed your mind, and you can still do your intensive. As far as Coach is concerned, you’re doing exactly as he asked.” His eyes flitted away for a second, then settled on mine with a glint of resolve. “I hate talking about my reading issues, and I hate even more being on display while someone else judges me. I’m not broken, and I don’t deserve pity.”
I’m not broken… His words echoed in my head and arrowed down to my heart. Some of my anger faded at his raw admission.
“But I do need help,” he continued. “I’m willing to try with you.”
“Dammit, Cole. You’re not supposed to make me like you.”
His lips tipped up in a half-smile. “I’m not apologizing for that.”
“Okay, farm boy. What makes your deal any different than his?”
He spread his hands. “No ulterior motives, remember? I can pay, just not a lot.”
We walked, and Cole left me to my thoughts, a nice change from Scott’s need for constant reassurance. Nope. Comparing them wasn’t fair, and I’d rather not have thoughts of Scott taint my evening.
Was I willing to get into tutoring again—for a hockey player I wanted to see naked? I’d already decided I’d help Cole if he asked, but this was how everything started last time. A little request here, a nudge there, and suddenly I was trapped in a relationship where my worth was directly related to what I could offer him. Except Cole wasn’t Scott.
Cole was a hockey playing country boy with a wicked sense of humor and a talented mouth. He’d made his interest in me clear, and while I wasn’t looking for a relationship after my last one imploded, I could really use a release.
Despite the years of shit-talking from my mom, Dad had taken me in right away. We hadn’t had a full conversation yet, but when I’d shown up after his game to ask for a key, he’d handed it over with no questions. Something my mom had never done. She questioned every decision, every step, every day. Why was I still clinging to her truths?
Suddenly, I didn’t give a shit if hockey players were all womanizing assholes who didn’t care about their families. I didn’t want a husband—I wanted a good time. Fuck my dad for leaving, fuck Scott for proving me wrong, and fuck her. For everything.
Apparently, I was entering my “fuck it” era. As rebellious as I was feeling, I still needed boundaries to ensure I wouldn’t be blindsided like before. Cole practically had a picket fence tattooed across his ass, but I thought I might be able to convince him to try something new. Something to help me reclaim the person who didn’t flinch at the thought of sex.
“I’ll help you with your English class?—”
“Yesss,” he said quietly.
“But you have to help me with something.”
He grinned at me, oblivious to the shady path I’d gone down. “Name your price, city girl.”
“For every assignment you finish, I want a night of orgasms.”