Full Throttle (Black Knights Inc. #7)(23)
The memory rolled over him…
“You know who her father is, right?” he asked his sister as they walked slowly across Georgetown’s Healy Lawn toward the South Gatehouse where they were meeting Rosa’s brand-spanking-new Mini-Me…otherwise known as her protégé for the next two years while the girl was an undergrad.
Jesús Cristo, he was happy he hadn’t signed on for a similar position. Four semesters playing nursemaid and mother to a snot-nosed teenager sounded like his version of the Seventh Circle of Hell.
“Of course I know who he is.” Rosa slid him a look that questioned the validity of his MCAT scores. The warm, early autumn wind blew in over the Potomac, playing with the ends of her jet-black ponytail. “I may have spent the last semester with my head buried in advanced pharmacology texts and pulling forty-eight-hour shifts during clinicals, but I wasn’t hiding under a rock.”
“They say he’s poised to win his party’s nomination,” he continued, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “And if he does, he’ll likely take the whole kit and caboodle, which means you’ll be mentoring the president’s very own daughter.”
Onyx-colored eyes exactly matching his own—except for the application of eyeliner and mascara, of course—turned in his direction. “Do you really think that’s escaped me?”
His chin jerked back as he stopped in the middle of the walk. A young man in a corduroy jacket, Buddy Holly glasses, and carrying a Cordovan-colored shoulder bag mumbled “excuse me” as he darted around them.
“You sly minx,” he laughed. “You agreed to the position because she’s poised to be the next first daughter. And how great would a recommendation from POTUS look on job applications, eh?”
Rosa shrugged and tried to appear innocent. It didn’t work. Then her expression changed, became more somber. “Well, there’s that and the fact that after having spoken to her on the phone a few times, she seemed like a nice kid. Funny, too. She didn’t make my back teeth itch by using the word ‘like’ ten times in one sentence.”
“Like, seriously?” he asked, feigning astonishment. “Like, do you suppose she might become, like, your new BFF? Do you think you’ll, like, be invited to the White House for, like, dinners and stuff?”
“Cut it out.” Rosa rolled her eyes and threaded her arm through his as they resumed their journey. “You should have applied to be a mentor, too. With our brown skin, we have to take advantage of every opportunity to get a leg up on our East Coast, Hamptons, and Manhattan born-and-bred competition.”
“They can get bent.” He was never one to worry about the occasional obstacles his race threw in his path. “And besides, I’d suck as a mentor. I have no patience for long-winded explanations.”
“And that’s the understatement of the century.” She chuckled as they approached the green park benches lined up beside the road that ran through the South Gatehouse. Rosa shook his arm. “Oh, look! There she is!”
“Where?” he asked, frowning. There were about ten different girls lounging around the grassy expanse and seated on the benches.
“The one bending over that rosebush. She told me botany is a hobby of hers.”
Botany as a hobby? Mierda, this girl sounded like the female equivalent of Steve Urkel. Did I do that? If she wore suspenders, he’d happily eat his own dissertation. Although…
He tilted his head. She did have quite a nice backside. It was round and firm and—
Well, of course it’s firm, cara pincha. She’s only eighteen!
But the thought had barely finished skipping through his mind when the short, lithe blond straightened and turned in their direction. The instant she saw Rosa, her face split into a smile. But not just any smile. We’re talking a fully weaponized smile. It was enough to lay waste to a man’s composure. It certainly laid waste to his…
And now he could only wish she was the female equivalent of Steve Urkel. Hell!
“Rosa!” the girl called, shouldering her backpack and jogging toward them. When she was about ten feet away, he watched, dumbfounded, as a pair of crystal-clear eyes—eyes so minty green that for a moment he thought there was no way they could be real—swung in his direction.
Inexplicably, his lace-up boots took root in the path, locking him in place. And since Rosa still had her arm tucked through his, his sudden stop-and-stare forced her to a stumbling halt.
“What the hell?” she grumbled, quickly regaining her footing and glancing at him. “Oh, no. No, no. I recognize that look. Don’t even think about it.”
“I’m not thinking about anything,” he lied straight through his teeth.
“Bullsh—”
“Rosa!” The girl was now standing directly in front of them, beaming at his sister with all the excitement and fervor of an eighteen-year-old. An. Eighteen. Year. Old. He had the feeling he was going to have to remind himself of that over and over again. “I’m so glad to finally meet you!”
“Abby.” Rosa reached forward to fold the girl in a quick hug. “Are you all settled in your dorm room?”
“Oh.” The girl…Abby…actually clapped her hands together. “I am! And guess what? I have a roommate!”
Rosa chuckled while jamming an elbow into his ribs. That’s when he realized his jaw was hanging open. “And that’s a good thing?” his sister asked, affording him the opportunity to reel up his lower mandible.