Page 71 of Interpreter

I wasn’t supposed to sleep with my co-teacher—again—and ride with her into work. But here I am, dressed in a pair of khakis, staring daggers at the teacher across the hall who is currently occupying Milah’s attention.

“That’s so sweet, Cal. Thank you.”

He brought her a calendar. A fucking calendar. And I’m ready to launch myself across the room and rip it from her hands. When did I become a jealous man? Oh, right. The night Milah made music come alive for me. The night she single-handedly made chills break out along my spine. The night when she made me feeleverything.

“Have a good day.” Finally, she shoos his ass out the door. I pop one of her M&M’s in my mouth just for the fuck of it. Just so I can get a rise out of her and remove that smile Cal put on her face. No one gets one of my smiles. Especially not Cal. Not that I know him or have any business hating him, but I get the vibe they’ve spent time together, and not in a platonic way. I see the way he looks at her. That man wants her. Too bad I’m not the sharing type.

“Are you going to Ms. Peak’s later today?” she asks me. “Wait! Is that my M&M?” I hold her precious M&M above my head when she tries swatting it out of my hand. “Why are you eating my M&M’s?” She’s so passionate about these damn things.

“Shouldn’t you be setting a good example for the kids by sharing?” I tease.

“I swear I will climb on this desk and attack you. I have no shame wrestling it from your hand.” If the kids weren’t due to come in any minute, I could be tempted to watch her try.

“So, you don’t want the full, family-size bag I brought today for lunch?”

Her eyes dart to my bag. “You brought me a new bag?”

I nod. It sure wasn’t a stupid calendar. “Saw you were running low.”

Slowly, she pulls on my bicep, her eyes softer. I let her control my arm until she plucks the M&M from my fingers and examines it like she’s memorizing every detail. Then she places a kiss to the round candy and stands on her tiptoes to slip it between my lips. It’s all so intimate. Like this is about more than a single piece of candy. Like she’s letting go of something—giving me a piece of herself.

Her finger lingers between my lips, and I secure her so I can suck every ounce of sweetness she is offering. “The kids are coming,” she says, and fuck if I don’t wish I could hear how it sounds. Was it raspy? Winded and breathy? I can feel the shivers in her body, so I know she’s turned on. I can read her body like sheet music. Every high and low note. Every sharp and every flat. I can read her. I don’t need to hear what she sounds like.

But I want to.

I release her, and she pulls her hand back, cradling it like it’s precious. “So, are you going to Ms. Peak’s room today?” she asks the question I didn’t answer earlier.

“I need to go earlier today,” I tell her, taking a deep breath and calming my horny ass down. “She said she needs me to help her with something.”

Milah nods. “You still want Oliver and me to meet you for lunch?”

I nod, a smirk playing on my lips. “Unless you would rather I drag you from the cafeteria.”

“How good are you at washing cars?”

I eye Ms. Peak as I wipe off the piano. “Did you ask if I was good at washing cars?” I could have read her lips all wrong.

“That’s what I said.”

I chuckle. “Uh. I guess I’m average. Why?”

“Because I need another body to help with the car wash fundraiser this Friday.”

Ah. “I think I can handle that.” It isn’t like I had anything planned except to maybe see Milah in the evening. I also wanted to talk to Oliver’s social worker about letting him come over so I could take him to a game some time. Milah told me that Oliver’s mom had put him up for adoption when he was a baby. With his hearing loss, he has yet to find an adoptive family, so he bounces around between foster families. The kid lives an inconsistent life, and yet he’s the sweetest, most attentive kid ever.

“Good. What do you think about doing it at the foundation?”

I arch a brow at Ms. Peak. “The foundation? Why would you want to have it at the foundation?”

“Why not? Do you not have plenty of acreage?”

I nod almost as if in slow motion. “We do.”

“And you have clean bathrooms and a place for this old lady to sit and watch y’all while you wash.”

Ah. “I’ll text Anniston.”

Ms. Peak smiles a victorious smile and then greets someone behind me.

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