See Me After Class(88)

But that’s not what’s happening.

And it’s confusing me.

“Uh, high school dances,” I say, trying to gain my bearings. “Only my senior year, and I went to prom, but that’s it. Volleyball took up a lot of my time. I wasn’t able to make a lot of the dances.”

“So, I take it you were never a homecoming queen?”

I snort and shake my head. “No, I wasn’t. Was never that girl. What about you?”

“Prom king.”

“Seriously?” I ask turning toward him.

He keeps his attention on the gym floor in front of us, but answers, “Yes.”

“Wow, I never would have guessed that.”

“Why not?”

“No offense, but you don’t seem like a people person, or someone who knows how to let loose and have fun.”

“Do you not recall the time I played with your pussy under your classroom desk?”

I swallow hard. “Uh, strike that last comment.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Does that mean you were popular in high school?”

“Unfortunately, yes. But not for the right reasons. My grandparents had money, so people wanted to be my friend.”

“The rich-kid problem.”

“Yeah, if you want to call it that.”

“Sounds a little sad.”

“It is what it is,” he answers just as the music picks up. “They gave us a home when they didn’t need to, and they left us with an inheritance, with which I’ve been able to help the school.”

That’s right, Stella mentioned he donates money to the school.

“That’s nice of you.”

“What am I going to do with all of the money? I have a house. I don’t need much more than that. I’m not much of a technology guy. I’d rather stretch out on a lounger that looks over Lake Michigan and enjoy a book.”

“A classic book, right?” I bump his shoulder with mine.

“I do enjoy the classics, but you’d be surprised what’s on my Kindle.”

“You have a Kindle?”

“Don’t you?” he asks, a raise to his brow when he looks at me.

“Yes, but I don’t know one guy who has one. Whenever I see a guy reading, it’s always a paperback. Thought it was a cool dude thing.”

“When you read as much as me, a Kindle is worth it to prevent multiple trips to the bookstore.”

“Okay, so what do you read? Wait . . . let me guess.” I tap my chin. “Well, I know it’s not romance, right? Besides that one series.”

He shakes his head.

“Yeah, didn’t think so. Ugh, American president autobiographies?”

“I’ve read a few, but that’s not my main genre.”

“Of course you’ve read a few. You have presidential autobiography written all over your cardigan.” He chuckles again and, God, it’s sexy. He’s sexy. This relaxed mood, talking like a normal person, it’s refreshing and scary at the same time. Scary because I can easily see myself falling into this man’s world if he continues to charm me. I can take the angry, off-putting Arlo, but a charming one? Now that’s a completely different story. “Okay, so I want to say you’re a suspense guy, that’s what my gut is telling me, but it also seems very unlike you. Then again, I think you might surprise me. So, is it suspense?”

“Yup.”

“Really?”

He nods. “I’m really into military suspense right now. I love how the stories unfold and always aim to figure them out before the grand reveal.”

“Are you correct?”

He laughs again. “Maybe like fifteen percent of the time. If I was ever looking for another profession, detective isn’t it.”

“I’m shocked. I’d have pegged you as someone who could figure out a storyline. You don’t take notes or anything?”

He shakes his head. “No, when I’m reading, I just like to get lost in the pages. Get lost in the world. If I took notes, that would take me out of the story.”

“Yeah, I can understand that.”

“What about you?” he asks. “Have you started reading that Scot book?”

“Wait.” I turn toward him. “You have all those books in your office. You said you read on a Kindle.”

“I didn’t get a Kindle until a few years ago. I started reading novels in middle school . . .”

“Oh, right.” I laugh.

“So, the Scot book—have you read it?”

“Of course. It was fantastic. Made me want to stick my hand up a kilt and see what I find.”

“Bet it’s a pair of hairy balls.” He rocks on his heels with a smirk.

Oh, dear God, he’s messing with my emotions. Charming, cute, smiles, laughter. The music in the background playing like our own personal soundtrack. He’s confusing me. I’m confusing me. Tonight the man has showed more sincerity and thoughtfulness than I’ve seen in him to date. It’s as though my forgiveness was extremely important to him. And I know Arlo Turner isn’t a liar. Which makes this change . . . believable.

I think he might insert himself back into my life . . . and in an all-consuming way.