Page 115 of Bottles & Blades

I nod. “Probably not until nine. Roxie and I are hanging out until Stefan gets home from coaching. Brit’s on the road with the Gold.”

“Want to come to my house after or me to meet you here?”

He asks that like it’s the most natural consequence of today—that we’ll end it in each other’s arms.

“Your place,” I say. “Don’t you have that long meeting today?”

“Duarte,” he supplies. “Yeah, it’s going to be a doozy. But Marie and the rest of my legal team have it covered. I’m mostly there to glare at them and put my scary billionaire abilities to use.”

I smile, touch his jaw, stroking my fingers through the rough bristles of his beard. “You’re not so scary.”

He bends a bit further, presses his lips to mine. “That’s because I like you.”

My smile widens. “I like you too.”

His phone buzzes, and he leans back enough to pull it from his pocket, glancing at his screen. “So it begins.” His mouth quirks as he pockets it. “And you need to get to class before you’re late.”

“I’ll see you tonight.”

A nod and then he steps back.

But just as quickly, he comes near, his eyes coming to mine, his mouth hitching up. “Damn glad I kidnapped you, buttercup.”

“I—”

But he’s gone before I finish that thought, striding to his car, leaving me sputtering in mine.

Luckily, the view of him from behind in that suit is just as good as the one from the front.

Unfortunately, I don’t realize until much later that my distraction of him in that suit means that I’ve missed that someone’s watching me too.

“I hate homework,”Roxie grumbles, dropping her pencil to the side and collapsing onto her math book with an aggrieved sigh.

I set my stack of index cards aside.

I have an oral quiz at the end of the week and a poster assignment (putting my basic Korean to the test) due by Wednesday at midnight.

“I get that,” I say. “It can certainly feel like too much sometimes.” I push my chair back, sidle up to her on the other side of the island. “You know what I do when I’m feeling overwhelmed?”

She lifts her head from her folded arms, nose wrinkled. “No.”

“I make it a game for myself.”

Her face clears, but her brows drag together. “What do you mean, Tiff?”

“I mean, I make it so that it becomes fun.”

“That’s impossible with homework,” she mutters.

I chuckle. “Sometimes, yeah. But other times inspiration strikes,” I say as my eyes catch on the bag near the fridge. I head there, snag the bag of M&Ms. “One piece for every problem you finish.”

“One?” She scowls.

This girl.

I bite back more laughter and modify my previous statement.

“Twofor every problem you finish.”

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