Page 9 of Beautiful Trauma
My hands tightened on the steering wheel. What had happened to the doe-eyed, sweet man who loved to please me? “I’m not using anyone, Mr. Sullivan. I’m well versed with the material, so I don’t need to conduct experiments. The dean wanted to see facts and hard numbers before making the final decision on whether it’s a good fit.”
“Like enrollment, attendance, and grades?” Henry asked.
“Precisely.”
“No wonder you were so strict. If you need good enrollment numbers, maybe you shouldn’t have tossed that Emily girl out of class.”
The memory of the student’s scornful remark and the snide look on her face made me angry all over again. “And have her say hateful things that hurt people’s feelings. I saw the look on your face and the way your body tensed. You and the others in the classroom don’t deserve to have someone degrade you like that—unknowingly or deliberately. A college is a place for higher learning, but some people will never rise above ignorance, no matter how smart they are or how long they go to school.”
“Thank you,” Henry said softly. “I wasn’t aware you noticed my reaction.”
I’m always going to notice you.“You’re welcome. As for my strictness, I’m a stickler about my time. It’s a precious commodity, and I don’t like it wasted by people who aren’t going to take the class seriously. I’m a very reasonable professor as long as people are giving my class the attention it deserves. Show up on time, keep your phone off, participate in class, and do your assignments. Respect me, respect my classroom, and I’ll return the respect to my students.”
“Field trips?” Henry randomly asked. “What kind of field trips?”
I knew his mind had conjured up kinky things, and I wanted to keep him guessing. “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.”
“As long as I don’t need a permission slip signed by my mother,” Henry quipped.
I heard a hint of sadness and wanted to know more, but we had arrived at Mamma Maria’s. Besides, getting to know Henry Sullivan was off the table. The sounds he made during orgasms frequently echoed in my dreams and getting further involved with him was a complication I couldn’t afford.
“That won’t be necessary,” I said, parallel parking in front of a quaint pizza place.
Henry released his seat belt and offered me a shy smile. “Thanks for the ride.” His face turned a pretty shade of pink, and I knew his words triggered the same memories in him as me. That night in my apartment, Henry and I had both learned what he was capable of doing, and sitting astride my cock, both cowboy and reverse cowboy, was his favorite position.
I cleared my throat and tried to smile without baring my teeth like a hungry wolf. “No thanks are needed.”
Henry got out of the car, and I followed him into the pizzeria at a leisurely pace. Henry headed through swinging doors leading back to the kitchen while I approached the counter. After a few seconds, a woman with curly hair piled on top of her head came out of the kitchen carrying two pizza boxes.Damn, Ryder really was starving.
My eyes kept darting back to the kitchen doors swooshing back and forth, trying to catch one last glimpse of Henry. Did he work here?
“Are you Ezra?” she sweetly asked, snapping me out of my musings.
“I am.”
“I’m Maria.” She looked to be my mother’s age, but the gray and white curls I saw woven through the black said she embraced her age rather than fought it. I inherited my early-gray genes from my mom, who started dying her hair to cover a white streak in high school. My mother would go to her grave with whatever black dye her stylist used, but I thought she would look just as beautiful with white hair. “Thank you for bringing my boy home.”Her boy?Henry looked nothing like Maria, but maybe he took after his father.Wait.Did that make Henry the younger brother of Ryder’s ex? Like she read my mind, Maria said, “He’s not my biological son, but I couldn’t love him more if he were.” I nodded. “Would you tell Ryder it’s not stealthy to order pizza under aliases then pay with his credit card? It’s a waste of energy he could spend in better ways. Let him know I don’t hate him, and I wouldn’t spit in his pizza. I’d love to see him and hear all about his wedding plans.”
I tossed my head back and laughed at the ridiculousness of the evening, which was what I needed to dispel the tension holding me in its clutches. “Yes, ma’am. I will do that.”
“Good.” She reached for the pen she’d tucked behind her ear, and wrote something down on a green, red, and white postcard before she signed it with a flourish. “Here you go. This is a Mamma Maria’s gift certificate from me to thank you for your kindness.”
“No, please, I can’t accept it. I was already coming here to pick up Ryder’s pizzas.”
“It was so much more than that, and you know it. Henry told me you offered to call Triple A to have the tire fixed even after learning it wasn’t his car. That goes above and beyond what most professors would do for their students.” Lord, the woman acted like I was a saint, but she’d be horrified if she knew I was mentally stripping Henry naked for more than half the ride to her pizzeria. “I will not hear of you taking no for an answer.”
I recognized a losing battle when I saw one. “Okay, I will accept your kind gesture.”
“Thank you.”
Henry never returned to the dining room, so I either had to find an excuse to linger or accept I’d see him in a few days in class. He was obviously in a safe place, so I thanked Maria once more and left the pizzeria.
I took a photo of the pizza boxes and sent it to Ryder. He immediately replied with a drooling emoji. Even though I felt completely off-kilter, I laughed and pulled away from the curb, hoping two days would be enough to shore up my defenses against a lithe body, sensual lips, and eyes that haunted me in my sleep.
“SORRY,I’M LATE,”IYELLED, bursting through the front door of Hastings Law firm. My boss, Desmond Hastings, who was unexpectedly sitting at my desk, clutched his chest and slumped against the back of my chair.
“Lord, child, I only came out here to find some staples, not die of a damn heart attack so that better be a peace offering in the pastry box and drink carrier in your hands.” A ninety-pound Rottweiler came from behind my desk to check out the commotion. Luckily, the beast recognized my voice so she wasn’t snarling and barking like she would if a stranger had foolishly busted through our door. “Justice wants a treat too.”
“Does my sweet girl want a treat?” I asked. Justice walked over and pressed her nose against my canvas grocery tote. “Yes, I am restocking your biscuit stash.” I looked back up at my boss. “Sorry, I’m late.”