Page 32 of Bad Boy Done Wrong
Chapter Nine
Zach sat at the kitchen table with his coffee and watched Carrie rinsing the breakfast dishes, still a little rattled by their spat. He checked her out in her simple dark gray tank top with matching dark gray shorts as she bent to put a plate in the dishwasher. She had the most delicious cleavage, the prettiest ass. She liked to match her clothes, tops and bottoms, even down to her underwear.
And she’d invited him to meet her parents.
It didn’t take an anthropologist to know what it meant to take someone to meet your parents. Clearly Carrie wanted to take what they had to relationship level. Now that the pressure was off with Carrie occupied at the sink, he could analyze the situation. She had feelings for him. He’d hoped, but he hadn’t known until that moment.
He did some quick calculations of when exactly he’d be in Singapore and when Carrie would graduate from her program and realized that he’d be away two solid years right in the middle of her program, which followed the school year so was actually more like two and a half years. It was too long a separation for where they were at.
But there were real feelings here on both their parts. That meant something. Right?
Would it be so bad to give it a try in the few months before he left? Wouldn’t it be better to grab whatever happiness they could now?
He wanted to try. If it worked out, maybe she’d be willing to postpone grad school for a couple of years and go with him. Whoa. That was a ridiculously big jump ahead. Especially coming from him. What if he ruined it like all his other relationships? What if he truly was too much of a lone wolf to ever pull off the intimacy needed for a successful relationship? If he got her out to Singapore and things fell apart, there was no guarantee she’d have a full tuition teaching assistantship waiting for her back home. Full tuition coverage was always a competitive thing. Limited dollars to go around, everything depending on who you were up against in that particular academic year. Or…he could pass on the Singapore opportunity. No, that would be foolish. He was at the point in his career where the fellowship could give him a significant boost in the world of academia. He might even be able to land a job at NYU or Yale afterwards, close to Carrie. Long-term view, if they had a long-term, definitely pointed to him taking the fellowship.
She hummed to herself as she worked, and a rare sense of contentment washed over him.
Maybe if he really thought through therightway to do a relationship, not his usual way of letting things unfold naturally, which somehow always meant falling apart, it could work. Surely his academic background could help him. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? It worked wonders for the initial dance of courtship, why shouldn’t it work for the advanced stages?
He shifted to anthropologist mode, examining the underlying meaning to Carrie’s invitation. It wasn’t just an invitation to a relationship now that he thought about it. Gaining approval of a chosen mate with family and community was a crucial step to a lasting union. Her request for protection from Edward further signaled she understood Zach was a fit protector. Zach knew his size, deep voice, regular displays of strength lifting Carrie, as well as his natural aggression in the bedroom had made that abundantly clear. His gift of breakfast each morning showed—on a primal level, the most important level—that he was a good provider. The only thing left to prove his value as a mate was a display of physical strength with a rival for her affection. Wrestling would be ideal. He had experience with the best—Ethan, Josh, Jake, and Marcus. Bonus, as a surgeon, Edward would likely be reluctant to use his fists with the risk of damaging his hands.
He briefly considered bumping his social status to be on par with Edward’s medical degree by telling Carrie about his PhD. Zach could also be called “doctor.” But then he thought better of it. After the anniversary celebration, he’d break the news he wasn’t a bad boy, but, in fact, a respected anthropologist. Then he’d tell her how she lit up his world and he wanted to keep seeing her. He’d lay it all out logically, their compatibility, the real feelings they both had, and then he’d make a case for giving them a chance in whatever time they had left. They’d figure out the Singapore thing at a later date. Despite all evidence to the contrary—his disastrous past relationships and the terrible timing of their respective career plans—he was hopeful.
Carrie wiped her hands on a paper towel and turned to him. “All set.”
He stood. “I’ll drive with you to your place and walk home. I’d like to talk to Ally.”
Her eyes widened. “You would?”
He understood her surprise. Before the invitation to a relationship, their boundaries were clear. He spent time with her strictly inside his apartment, no dates, no drives home. In any case, it was important he get to know and gain the approval of her closest friends. Her roommate was a key person in Carrie’s friendship web.
“Yeah,” he said. “We only met briefly before.”
Carrie smiled uncertainly. “Well, okay, if you want to.” She cocked her head. “Why, exactly?”
“I’d like to get to know your friends.”
He went to the living room and retrieved her large purse with multicolored flowers from where she’d dropped it right before she’d leaped into his arms. It was their nightly ritual. The damn thing weighed at least twenty pounds. Probably because she carried shampoo and shit back and forth from her place. He should probably clear some space for her stuff.
He crossed to her and held up the purse. “This thing is too heavy. You’re going to strain your back.”
She took it from him. “It’s fine. I’m used to carrying a lot.” She sailed toward the door and he admired the swing of her hips for a moment before catching up to her.
He slipped on the brown leather sandals he always left by the door. “You can leave some shampoo here or whatever.” He straightened and gazed directly into her eyes. “I’ll make room for your stuff.”
She stared at him, her brows scrunched together. Good, she was thinking about the deeper meaning. He held open the door for her, locked up, and walked her down the sidewalk, one hand on the small of her back.
“Zach?”
“Yeah.”
“Leaving stuff at your place feels a little different. And you getting to know my friends feels like, I don’t know, something more.”
He refrained from explaining the symbolism to her, not wanting to show his academic bent.
She looked up at him. “I thought you weren’t looking for a relationship.”
“I wasn’t.”
