He circles the answer to the problem he just went over. "You understand all the steps I took to come up with this answer?"
"I do."
He scribbles a practice problem on a sheet of notebook paper and slides it across the table in front of me. "Want to try this one on your own and see what happens?"
"Sure."
He gets up and goes to the fridge while I work on the problem. "Want a coconut water?"
I spin around so I can look at him. "Bram Windsor. You do not drink coconut water."
"I definitely don't, but you do."
The magnitude of this simple act hits home. "You bought coconut water for me?"
"Well, it's your favorite. And I knew you'd be coming over this week."
First, he's paid enough attention to know what my favorite drink is. Second, he went out and bought some to have at his apartment for me. Has he been thinking of me? "I would love some. Thank you."
He places a carton in front of me. "Is that stuff any good?"
"I love it." I twist the cap and offer him the carton. "Try it. See if you like it."
He takes it from my hand and then quickly passes it back after tasting it. "Ugh. I don't know how you drink that stuff."
"It's not as sweet as what most people expect. You might like the one that comes with pineapple juice in it."
"Nah. Coconut and pineapple sounds like a girly cocktail."
"And you're a manly beer drinker."
"Damn right, I am."
Bram's choice in alcohol isn't the only manly thing about him. His voice. His stubbled face. His muscular body. All of it screams masculinity. And it's terribly difficult to push it out of my mind as I work on the next few calculus problems he assigns me.
I push my paper toward him when I finish. "All done."
"You sound confident."
"I am but only because you're really good at explaining calculus." Mr. Garrison should take lessons from him on how to teach this stuff.
Bram checks my work and scribbles A+ at the top of the page. "Excellent job. Think you want to try a few more?"
I've been at Bram's a while but if doing more math means I get to stay with him longer, I'll do them all week. "If you have time, I'd like to practice more."
"You can do as many problems as you like. I have no plans other than grabbing some takeout for dinner."
Why should he get takeout when I'm here? "I can cook something for you."
"You don't have to do that."
"I don't mind." I would come over and cook for him every night if he'd let me.
"You know me, Claud. I'll never turn down a home-cooked meal."
There's no way I wouldn't take this opportunity to cook my specialty for him. Especially since they say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. "Spaghetti sound okay?"
"Sounds delicious. You know how much I love spaghetti."
I do know. And it's why I've spent the last few months learning how to make the perfect meat sauce. "Let me do three more problems and then we'll make a grocery run; I know you don't have the things I'll need."
"Accurate assumption. I have beer and chips. That's about it."
I giggle and roll my eyes. "You need more than that for sustenance."
"Beer and chips are bachelor food. And I'm a bachelor."
Thank God for that. "We're getting you some decent food while we're at the store."
"I'll buy whatever you put in the cart as long as you cook for me."
"I need tutoring. You need dinner. We'll make a trade out."
"Sounds like a good plan to me."
I get to spend more time with Bram. That's not a good plan.
It's a great one.
5
Bram Windsor
I shouldn't be letting this happen. I shouldn't be creating additional alone time with Claudia in my apartment. And I definitely shouldn't be sitting at my dining table staring at her ass while she flutters around my kitchen.
Should've. Could've. Would've. I should've sent her home as soon as our tutoring session was over. I could've said I already had dinner plans. I would've if I were smarter. But I'm not smarter. I'm a dumbass playing with a blazing hot fire. And this flame has a name.
Claudia Laine Bliss.
Dear God. The denim shorts she's wearing are so short that her ass cheeks peek out of the bottom when she bends forward. Which makes me wonder what kind of panties she's wearing. Boy shorts? I don't think so. Bikini? Not likely. Cheekies? Maybe. Thong? I'm hopeful.
Or maybe she isn't wearing panties at all.
She has stripped down to the white tank top she was wearing beneath her T-shirt. Says she doesn't want splattered spaghetti sauce to ruin it. Sounds like a legit reason for taking it off, but damn, I don't think she's wearing a bra. I can see the outline of her nipples through the thin fabric.