Page 47 of Love and History
“My advice?”
Mallory gave her glasses a businesslike push with her forefinger. “I’m going to volunteer my services for Renaissance in the Park in the hopes that a personal connection will create an amiable tutorial relationship and much-needed extra credit. Thank you for the suggestion.”
Fuck.
I shook my head and waved my free hand like a red flag. “No, no. That was not my suggestion.”
“Don’t be modest. My father wouldn’t have known anything about the need for volunteers if not for you. He was rather adamant that your intimate acquaintanceship with the professor could be beneficial to my cause. I’m ashamed to report that I haven’t done well in Professor Galymer’s class. I’ve tried tutoring and study groups, but it hasn’t improved my grade. I have a month left, but failure looms in the distance. If I don’t pass this course, my acceptance at USC will be delayed, which in turn will delay my father’s role on the law advisory board.” She fluttered her eyelashes and smiled prettily. “So again…thank you. I’m grateful for your guidance. And for the chance to get to know you better.”
Wait. Was she making a move on me?
I had a very bad feeling that her dad told her to “get to know me” and this was the result. Nothing about my boss using me to solidify a connection for a passing grade was good. Or a spot on an elite board? That was new.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t have to get in the middle of this. Mallory could talk to Holden herself. If it worked out, great. If not, not my problem.
“Right. Knowing me doesn’t really solve your grade issue,” I hedged. “You need to discuss extra credit with Professor Galymer yourself. I can’t do that for you. But I know he’s a great guy who wants his students to do well, so…go get ’em, tiger.”
She chuckled softly. “Thank you. I’ll speak with him. And I’ll report back to you about—”
“That’s not necessary,” I intercepted. “You can handle this one on your own.”
“I appreciate your confidence. Would you care to share a table and chat for a while?” Mallory threw her arm wide and hit the side of my to-go cup hard enough to loosen the lid.
What happened next was your basic comedy of errors. I stepped backward and got elbowed by a kid racing toward the counter before I could secure the lid. Soda flew in the air like a mini fountain, showering Mallory and me.
As in…we were soaked.
We stared at each other in bemused surprise for a moment, then surveyed the damage. My polo clung obscenely to my chest like Saran Wrap. It was uncomfortable for sure, but I felt worse for Mallory. She gingerly peeled her cardigan off and held it out like a wet rag.
“This is…sticky,” I commented lamely.
“Yes. Very. I’m so sorry. I—oh, no.” She glanced down at her white see-through blouse and lacy bra and shrieked. “I can’t go out like this. I’m practically naked.”
Not even close, but she was rockin’ more of a naughty geek look than the prim and proper one she had a minute ago.
“It’s not that bad.” I grimaced as I pulled my shirt from my body. “Hey, I have my workout gear in my SUV. I might have a T-shirt you can borrow.”
I led the way to the parking lot, opened the hatch of my SUV, and riffled through my gym bag. I had one unwashed, wrinkly white tee and a clean lacrosse jersey. I reluctantly handed over my jersey.
Mallory nibbled her bottom lip. “Thank you, but this looks rather official.”
“It’s my team jersey. We’re on break through August so there’s no hurry, but I’ll need it back.”
“I’ll have it laundered ASAP. Are there specifications regarding use of a detergent type or drying instructions I should note?”
“No, anything goes.” I yanked my sticky polo over my head and slipped on the semi-stinky tee, aware that Mallory’s eyes were glued to my chest. Not good. It was time to get the hell out of there. “I have to run. I’m meeting my friend and I’m not a hundred percent sure where I’m going.”
She snapped out of her momentary trance, nodding vigorously. “Yes, of course. Thank you for the jersey and for your advice. I profusely apologize for dousing you in soda and—”
“Don’t worry about it. Accidents happen.” I closed the hatch with a smile. “Good luck, Mallory.”
I slipped behind the wheel and caught her reflection in the rearview mirror. I had a bad feeling about this. She’d followed me, for fuck’s sake. That wasn’t good. I was innocent, but I felt…squicky somehow. Like I was a pawn in a game I didn’t quite grasp. Or maybe I watched too muchLaw and Order.
On that thought, I plugged in the address Cole had forwarded, and pulled onto the street.
The little graybungalow was located on a wide palm-tree-lined residential street. It was…nice. Not as nice as our street in Pasadena, but the house didn’t look vaguely haunted like our place did, so there was that. According to the leasing agent, a young woman with dark hair and a Hollywood smile, the property was six blocks from the pier, close to a park, great nightlife, etcetera.
She gave us an extensive tour of the one-story, two-bedroom, two-bath house, pointing out features like the sun-drenched living area, refinished hardwood flooring, updated tile, and new appliances. The bedrooms were decent sized, but didn’t have much closet space. And the yard was nothing special. Just grass with a scrawny lemon tree in the corner of the lot.