“It does.” As he touched her hand, she brightened.
“Tell me a high school story. Something you did with your friends.”
“You’ve heard all the sports stories, probably more than anyone wants to. Including me.”
His friends had visited a lot in those early days, telling way too many nostalgic stories about being on the football field. Talk about rubbing his nose in it, though he knew that hadn’t been their intent. They just hadn’t known what else to say, and reliving their glory days seemed the best option. He’d known she listened from her room sometimes, the door cracked.
“Something other than sports,” she said.
“Girls?”
She frowned. “No.”
That gave him a boost he’d needed. “Sure?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re teasing me because I don’t have a skillet.”
He chuckled. “Trying. What I really want to do is rip off Joe’s legs so I can have a fair fight for your interest. I don’t have any cool books about the history of the Constitution.”
She looked as if he’d dashed cold water in her face. “What?”
He waved a hand. “I’m kidding.”
“You think he was…”
“I think you’re a beautiful woman who’s really interested in what he’s teaching. He’s going to test the waters. He’s an adult, you’re an adult.”
“No. I’m going to go give this back to him.”
“Hey, Daralyn.” Startled by her reaction, he managed to snag her wrist before she jumped up. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Neither has he. It’s just normal guy-girl stuff. If he asks you out, you just say—”
“I’m with you. I belong to you.”
Talk about being caught off balance. He hadn’t seen that one coming, let alone the force with which she blurted it out.
She stopped at his reaction, took a breath. “I’m so sorry. I interrupted. What were you about to say?”
“I was about to say…” He was neck deep in treacherous waters, with no clue about all the dangers that lay within them, so he spoke carefully. “That if you were interested, you’d say yes. If not, you’d tell him you’re not, that you just really like his class and what you’re learning in it.”
She stared at him. “You… I don’t belong to you?”
“Daralyn, why do you think you belong to me?”
“Because you touched me…that way. You’ve kissed me.”
“Yeah, but you can choose to be with me. When a guy kisses you, it’s not like a brand or something.”
Even if it had felt exactly that way to him.
Her gaze dropped back to the book. She traced it with nervous fingers. He had no idea where she’d gone in her head until she lifted it, looked at him with that unflinching honesty he’d just praised.
“Do you want me to belong to you?”
He did. He wasn’t sure if he should say so, yet it came out of his mouth before he could stop it. “Yeah. But I want—”
“Then that’s all that matters. I need to get to my next class.”
Before he could get out another word, she’d shouldered her backpack, grabbed the book and fled.
Chapter Five
He decided the best course of action was to behave as he had before that baffling conversation. He sent her more emojis for the next class, received some tentative ones in return. She didn’t come back between her second and third classes, though she texted him and said she was going over the homework assignment with the professor, because she had some questions.
At five minutes until nine, he’d put away his laptop and paperwork, satisfied with the amount he’d completed. When she emerged a few minutes later, he was relieved to find she’d reverted to the excitement she’d displayed after Joe’s class.
On the way home, she talked about the things she’d learned, the people she’d met. No more Joes, but he was sure she’d been noticed by all her instructors. She’d kept the teachers hopping with her questions.
As he was pulling into the driveway at Marcus and Thomas’s, she at last broke off, giving him a sheepish look. “Sorry. I was jabbering like the mockingbirds.”
“Not even close. Those noisy bastards could win medals.”
When he put his hand over hers, folded in her lap, she adjusted her double grip and wrapped it around his hand. The chain bracelet pressed into his skin, and her fingers were light, like bird bones. While they were never warm, they weren’t cold, like they became when she was upset.
“Thank you,” she said seriously, looking at him. “You were right. It made all the difference, knowing you were there. I won’t need it for long, I promise.”
“I’ll be there however long you need me. Don’t worry about that. It worked out good. That end-of-day paperwork I always put off got done.”
“I can help more with that.”
“You do plenty already. And you’re an investment. Mom says you’ll learn stuff, probably put us on some high-tech system that will eliminate paperwork altogether.”
He grinned at her, and she smiled back. Her fingers played over his, and he shifted to capture them, hold them still with a firm grip.
She met his gaze, lowered hers. “If you don’t need to get home…would you like to come in for some coffee or hot chocolate?”
“Yeah, I’d like that. You can keep telling me about the school stuff. If you’re not too tired.”
“I’m not sure if I’ll sleep at all tonight.” Her eyes went bright again. “I’m just so full of everything I saw and heard…”
As she spoke, he smiled some more and swiveled around on the driver’s seat to transfer himself to his waiting chair.
He rarely had to tell Daralyn anything twice, and when they’d returned to the school parking lot, he’d told her to wait for him to open the car door for her, coming or going. Now she didn’t stir until he came around to do that.
When he gave her a nod of approval, that light in her eyes got a different kind of shine. She took the hand he offered and, delicately as a deer, slipped out and onto her feet next to him.
A light was on in the living room at Marcus and Thomas’s, and he could see Thomas stretched out watching TV. Rory didn’t see Marcus, but his Mercedes was there next to Thomas’s classic Chevy Nova, so he was elsewhere in the house.
Rory opened the screen door to Daralyn’s patio and followed her into the house. She shifted one of the two kitchen chairs to the wall, giving him a spot at the table, before she moved to the pantry.
“Coffee or hot chocolate? I can do the chocolate with skim milk.”
“Hot chocolate sounds good. Tell me more about the science class. You didn’t finish talking about that one.”
He propped an elbow on the table as he watched her. He listened, responding and asking questions, yet he suspected her awareness of how he was looking at her was growing. Could she sense the energy coming off him, building in the small space between them once again as he inhaled her scent, followed the sweep of her hair over her shoulder? He studied the little bumps her bra strap made under her shirt, the way the denim stretched over her backside when she bent to pull out the saucepan. The capable movements of her hands as she made hot chocolate with milk, using the stove instead of the microwave.