Getting Schooled (The Wright Brothers #1)(15)

“Oh booo! Why did you come by then?”

She settled into a seat on the couch and took off her shoes. “To find out how your apology to Jason Wright went.”

I giggled. “It went well.”

“Uh huh. Then why are you laughing?”

“Ohh, no reason. Don’t worry mama. I didn’t say anything he’ll be able to complain about.”

I’d made sure of that.

Oh, I’d apologized all right, but did it in such a way that even my apology was insulting. Of course I knew his feelings weren’t really hurt – we were playing chess. And in my probably biased opinion, I was kicking his ass. Of course I knew he wasn’t trying to get me in trouble – he was forcing me to engage with him. And I’d even crushed that by making it clear that I wouldn’t.

If Mr. Wright wanted to play with me, he was going to have to pull his best moves out.





five.





So Professor Bryant bought herself a new whip.

Luxury cars didn’t come through our service center too often, so the sleek black beauty definitely caught my eye. She only wanted minor changes on the trim package – a different set of rims, modified console, things like that, but we had to order a few parts, so all in all, it took a week to get her car ready.

And of course I got the job of dropping it off.

I wondered if she knew J&P was my father’s place? The logo on the sleeve of the mechanic’s shirt I wore sometimes was tiny, and it was one of the biggest – and only black owned – dealerships in the city. It made sense that she wouldn’t have known, at least initially, but what about now?

Is that why he sent me to drop off this car?

I groaned.

I’d made the mistake of lamenting that grade out loud to him and my brother’s at dinner last Sunday… was this his way of trying to help me out? Curry some favor with the professor for a better grade next time?

At that, I chuckled.

That wasn’t my father’s style.

But, I did notice that he wasn’t dropping the car off himself, even though his name was listed as the salesman on the paperwork.

Hmmm.

Professor Bryant was around the same age as my father, and she was fine as hell. Even when he wasn’t on the market to date, my father had never been one to turn down a chance to do a little respectful flirting with a pretty woman. The only reason I could think of that Pops wouldn’t do this delivery himself was to avoid getting himself in trouble with his mystery woman.

Ha.

Smart man.

In any case, it was because of this drop off that instead of spending my Saturday morning with an engine, I was reluctantly in khakis and the corny J&P polo, driving Professor Bryant’s car to her house. One of the other guys from the service center was with me, trailing me in another car so I could get back to the dealership after the drop off. Plus, my official capacity today was salesman, which I hated, so if there were any adjustments needed, or problems with the car, I was supposed to let him handle it.

Like that was actually going to happen.

In any case, I pulled up in front of this perfectly manicured modern craftsman style house. There was a big driveway that even led to the back of the house, so I took advantage of the space by parking it in a way that the car would look especially good from the front door. Or at least I tried. There was a little annoying dark purple Audi parked right in my sight line, and I frowned at it.

Didn’t seem like something the professor would drive.

I did one last little inspection over the car, making sure everything looked perfect before I ambled up to the front door. The big front window was wide open, blinds, curtains, and all, and I could hear music blasting from inside – chicks singing and rapping about “feeling themselves”. I couldn’t really see anything except a deep purple couch that separated the living room from the kitchen, but I recognized the strong lavender scent of purple fabuloso cleaning products. My mother had used the same thing, but damn… what was with all the purple?

I rang the doorbell once, and then a second time when minutes passed and nobody came to the door. Thankfully the song ended, and I hurriedly pushed the doorbell again in the break in the music.

A couple of seconds later, the door swung open, and the purple everything suddenly made sense.

“What the hell do you want?” Reese asked, leaning on the mop she’d brought with her to the front door. I wanted to come back with a snarky response, but I was distracted by pretty copper skin. Lots and lots of skin.

She’d come to the door in a gray sports bra that was doing an admirable job of trying to keep her contained. The matching gray shorts she wore came down to mid-thigh, yeah, but they were lycra, or something else, that fit tight against her skin. I wasn’t trying to always find myself ogling her like this, but goddamn.

“Can I help you?” she snapped, and I ran my tongue over my lips before I unhurriedly brought my gaze up to her face. She was pissed, and I almost wanted to laugh, because I don’t think she realized that pissed was sexy as hell on her.

Big browns narrowed, plush lips twisted into a frown. I had the strongest urge to grab her by the high ponytail she’d pulled her braids into and kiss her, and watch that little attitude melt away, but I was on official business… and I wouldn’t put it past Reese to pull out a blade. What the hell was she doing here anyway, with a mop? Damn, did Professor B make her grad assistant clean her house too?