Reunited(18)

“No worries,” Deb said. “I’ve got it. You two go on. Enough studying for one night. Maybe you can hit a late show somewhere.”

“Oh, I don’t think—” Kathryn began.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea, Kath,” Brett said. “How about it?”

“I have studying.”

“We’ve been studying all night.”

Kathryn bit her swollen bottom lip. They hadn’t been studying all night, which was most likely painfully obvious to Deb and Bruce.

“Should I walk you home?” Bruce asked.

“I’ve got my car. I’ll take her home,” Brett said.

“Brett, I live right down the street.”

“So? Why walk when you can ride with me? Come on.”

“Uh, okay. Thanks Deb and Bruce. See you tomorrow afternoon.”

“Have a fun evening, Kathryn,” Deb said and winked at her.

Kathryn wanted to expire on the spot. Yes, Deb and Bruce were cool. They probably wouldn’t care that she’d been making out with the Italian Stallion in their home. Hell, she’d found a stash of pot in the kitchen cupboards more than once and Deb routinely left her vibrator out in the bathroom.

Yet embarrassment overtook her. She was not Brett Falcone’s girlfriend. Would never be. She shouldn’t have been kissing him. Still, her body moving without benefit of her mind, she let him guide her out the door, down the driveway, to his Chevy parked on the street. Kathryn let him open the door. She slid in, sat on the fabric seat cushion, and inhaled. Pine. A tree-shaped air freshener dangled from the rearview mirror. Nice that he cared how his car smelled. Weird that she cared he cared.

He got in beside her and started the engine.

“You won’t get in trouble for me being there, will you?”

She snapped her mind out of its fog. “No. They don’t care.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want to cost you your babysitting job.” He laughed. “Then again, if you lost it, you could spend more time with me.”

“With you?”

“Tutoring me, I mean.”

“Yeah. I know that’s what you meant.” But for a moment, a sheer second, she’d hoped he meant he wanted to spend time with her as a person, not as a tutor.

She shook her head to clear it once again. What a fool she was.

“This is where I live,” she said.

“I know where you live.”

“You do?”

“An address isn’t that hard to find, Kath.”

“Why do you call me Kath? No one does.”

“So you said.” He cocked his head. “It fits you. How come everyone calls you Kathryn?”

“My mom calls me Kathy.”

“But no one else?”

“No. I prefer Kathryn.”

“You want me to call you Kathryn?”

No! For some reason she couldn’t quite figure out, she wanted him to call her Kath and nothing else.

She shook her head again. Damn spider webs were invading her brain.

He parked the car in the street by her house. Without looking at him, Kathryn opened the door and left the car. She turned back, polite to a tee. “Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem. I’ll walk you up.”

“No. Please don’t. This isn’t a date.”

“I didn’t say it was, but I want to walk you up.”

Something in his voice made her relent. He walked her to the front porch and stood with her under the door.

“Thanks for helping me out tonight,” he said.

Could he tell her body had turned to jelly? Her legs quivered. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you after school Monday in the usual classroom.”

“How about tomorrow?”

“I have my own homework to do tomorrow.”

“You might need a break. We could get ice cream or something.”

Okay, this was so not happening. Brett Falcone was not asking her out on a date. Especially not Brett Falcone who was going out with with Michelle Bates.

Darned if she didn’t want to have ice cream with him.

“Okay. Pick me up at three. I’ll have my work done by then.”

“You got it.” His smile lit up his face. He bent near her and brushed his lips lightly across hers.

She jolted and a fire ignited between her legs. Just a little peck and, oh God, she wanted more.

“Good night, Kath.”

“Good night.”

She floated inside.





Chapter Seven


The phone clattered on the ceramic tile kitchen floor.

“Kath?” Brett’s voice haunted her from the other room. “You all right in there?”

Brett! What timing this Michael had. But she had to speak to him. Had to find out if he were truly the little boy she had given away all those years ago.

She willed her throat to relax, her voice to steady. “I’m fine. I have to take this call. I’ll just be a minute.”

Her shaky hand retrieved the phone.

“I’m sorry,” she said into the mouthpiece. “You took me by surprise.”

She walked from the kitchen past Brett, waving at him and mouthing “a patient,” stumbled into her bedroom, and shut the door behind her.