Page 84 of Interpreter

Milah has brought so much to my life that I can’t imagine losing her, and I guess that’s why seeing Cal, a guy that I know pines after her, bring her here had me seconds from going insane with jealousy.

“I’ll get your car fixed tomorrow,” I tell her, kissing the corner of her mouth. “I know a guy.” Well, technically I know a girl who knows a guy. Bianca, Hayes’s girlfriend, works for a repair shop. She and Mac can fix anything.

“Thank you,” she says, winding her hand around my head and into my hair. “Are you going to tell me why you didn’t invite me to the fundraiser?”

That crease she loathes makes its appearance, and I shrug. “You were quiet this afternoon.”

She rolls her eyes. “Try again. I know when you lie. You shrug.”

My chest rumbles with low laughter. “I do not.” Note to self: stop fucking shrugging.

“You do. Now tell me the real reason you failed to mention you were going to be washing Moochy Martha’s Mercedes shirtless today.”

“Moochy Martha,” I mouth, and it sends a vibration through her chest.

“You have to know she wants to dry hump you in the break room.” The tightness in her face tells me she’s serious about this topic.

“Are you jealous?” Laughter bubbles out of me until she halts it with a pinch to my nipple. “Ow.” I rub the battered nipple. “Who the hell is Moochy Martha? And I didn’t wash a Mercedes today. Mason did.”

Her lips purse, and she nods like she knew this and was just checking. “Oh. Well. I’m glad she got it washed. It needed it.”

“You were jealous. Is that why you were marching through that line like you were about to kick my ass?” I laugh. “Because you thought I was going to dry hump Moochy Martha against her car?” My laughter steals my breath. This woman.

“Well, when you say it like that it makes the situation seem silly.”

“It is silly,” I amend.

“As silly as you going all Terminator because I rolled up with Cal?” She looks smug.

“That was different. You were in a tank top.” And in his car. It was a totally different situation.

“And you were shirtless.”

I see her point.

Sighing, I lean down and suck a nipple. She’s relaxed by the time I meet her gaze. “I don’t know who Moochy Martha is. Even if I did, there would be no dry humping going on at a car wash with kids around.” She gives me a look liketell that to my ripped panties. “At least not until everyone left. But again, I don’t know who Martha is.”

“She’s a teacher on the third-grade hall. You smiled at her today,” she supplies.

“I smiled at her?” I flash her a smug look before adding, “I thought you said I never smile at school?”

She shoves at my chest, and I catch her hand, guiding her index finger past my lips. I give the wrinkled skin—from the water, not another wrinkle that will freak her out—a few long pulls.

“Are you ready for the show next week?”

And we’re on to another horrific subject. The performance that I agreed to do.

I sigh. “As ready as I think I can be.”

I’ve been going back to the school in the evenings. Doc lets me in when he’s cleaning, and I just sit and play for hours at the piano. It’s soothing. Part of me wishes that I hadn’t agreed to play in front of everyone, and the other part of me gets a rush just thinking about the adrenaline of playing in front of a crowd. It’s been so many years….

Milah cups water in her hand and pours it over my chest, the heat scalding against my cool skin. “The last time I was at your house….”

She tries to scoot back, but I hold her tight. “Just ask me. What do you want to know?” I’ve known Milah long enough to know her tells. She wants to ask me something, but she’s scared of how I might react.

Her chest expands and she nods, scooping another handful of water as if that will soothe me. “I overheard Dr. Parker at the barbecue.”

Oh fuck. There’s no telling what he said.

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