Taming His Tutor(63)

“I’ll drive. I haven’t had anything to drink.”

“Great.

“How…was your day?” she asked lamely as she got into his car. If she kept him talking, the conversation on his work, maybe she’d be okay.

“It was fucked, thanks for asking.”

Or maybe they’d just sit in awkward silence until they got to wherever he was taking her.

Silence it was.

“What kind of place is Woody’s?” she asked when he pulled up in front of a bar down a quiet street several blocks away from where the hipsville party had been.

“A good place to sit and shoot the breeze.” He locked the car and walked her to the door.

That’s what he wanted to do with her now? Great. Had she somehow been relegated to friend status now that the sex lessons were done? Had she dreamed the whole hideous argument of last night or something?

Or was she dreaming now?

“The app looked good—“Allure”? People were into it,” Joe said, ushering her into the half-empty bar.

“Yes.” She smiled brightly, taking a seat at the counter. They’d had iPads scattered around with the app open for people to play with it. Slick and fun, it had been a hit, but it would always be “Vixenator” to her. “My boss is thrilled.”

“Fantastic.”

“Yeah.” She nodded, glad when a barman came down to take their orders. She needed a long, long drink.

That awkward silence returned while the guy fetched their beers—and it lasted. She watched the condensation form on her bottle and a single trickle start down the side. She couldn’t think of any more polite chat. And she didn’t want to ask about the personal, let alone know why he’d brought her here at all.

“I called Brooke about twenty minutes ago.”

“You did?” She nearly fell off the stool. “How’d that go?”

“We’re gonna meet up for coffee.” He cleared his throat. “I apologized for ignoring her the other night. Told her I was fighting for the love of my life. I just hadn’t known it at the time. It wasn’t a lie. She understood.”

Abbi’s mouth opened and shut, goldfish style.

“I was thinking you and I never really did have that first date,” he said quietly. “That baseball game didn’t count.”

She swiveled on her stool to look at him directly. “We weren’t really supposed to have a date though, were we?” She placed her clammy hand on the beer bottle to center herself. “We just had a kind of arrangement.”

He frowned. “I think that was a mistake.”

His words stabbed the fantasy bubble that had been building. He regretted it? Regretted everything they’d done together?

“Lifelong learning. Isn’t that what it’s all about these days?” he asked. “Six lessons were never going to cut it. Hell, we never really got to know each other. Well,”—he nudged the coaster away from him—“I never really got to know you. You didn’t much let me.”

Surprised, she said nothing.

“You never told me anything, Abbi. Nothing much about your life—what you like, what you don’t like. I don’t even know how you like your coffee. All you were interested in from me was how to get good in bed.”

And that bothered him? Was he angry with her? She frowned, stunned, then tried to explain it.

“All those articles said not to be boring, not to go on about yourself,” she offered lamely. “To be interested and ask lots of questions about him.”

“Forget the fucking articles, Abbi, and talk to me.”

She swallowed. Yep, angry. “Okay, what do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

She froze.

“I mean it,” he said, husky and quiet and fast. “I want to know your thoughts, your feelings. I want to know your plans for the future, what you like to eat for dessert, what kind of books you like, or music or movies. I want to know the things that make you sad or mad. Most of all I want to know whether you’ve missed me as much as I’ve missed you this last day.” He lifted his head. “Has it only been a day? It feels like fucking forever.”

Abbi stared at him, unable to think for her pulse thundering in her ears. “You—”

“I’ve missed you so much. I want you back.”

Back like how? Like his little willing and available-anytime sex student, or something more?

He leaned close in to her. “Because here’s what I do know about you. You’re gorgeous—whether you’re in a vixen dress or jeans and tee. You’re loyal, funny, kind. You listen. You laugh. You’re diligent. You’re strong. You’re sweet. You’re smarter than any one person has a right to be. You’re quiet but you’re playful. You’re loving. You’re kind. You care. You make my life better.”