Wrong For You (Before You Series Book 3) (4 page)

“No. I’m okay right now.” He brushed the droplets from her lips and chin and wished, not for the first time, he could taste her lips as they slid against his.

She shrugged, sliding the bottle into the side pocket of her backpack. “I promised to tutor him in math and if his grades improve, he wants to apply for a scholarship to a private high school for his senior year.”

“That sounds like a good plan.”

“Yeah. If he gets a college education, he could really help his mom and his sister and give them some stability.”

“That’s a lot of responsibility for a young kid.” He handed her his bag of berries.

“I know, but we can’t always choose our path in life—we just have to try to make the best of the bad choices.”

“I guess,” Alec mused. He thought he made a good decision when he left Taylor home with his mom to chase his dream to be in a band. Ultimately, it all worked out and now he could help Taylor as much as she needed. Sometimes, though, he couldn’t help wondering how much those years hurt Taylor. All evidence to the contrary, he always thought his mom would take better care of Taylor when he left. After all, Taylor was her daughter with her beloved husband while his was the product of an affair that ruined the family. If he wasn’t in his mom’s face every day reminding her of her mistakes, he thought she might pull herself together. She didn’t. Things only got worse. His mom’s addiction spiraled even further into the rabbit hole, and Taylor…well, fuck. He didn’t know if he could live with himself if he knew everything that happened to her after he walked out of their lives.

Violet studied him for a few moments, then she dusted off her backpack and looped her arms through the straps. “Are you ready to head back?”

Not really. He liked escaping to some area in the mountains that barely had a name and he didn’t have much of anything to do until Monday. He didn’t have any friends left from his high school days and he certainly didn’t have any family he wanted to visit. “Sure thing. I wouldn’t want you to disappoint Dean.”

He watched her face in profile as she laughed. She pushed the low hanging branches to the side as she made her way back to the trail. “He’ll probably be more disappointed if I show up. I’m interrupting his weekend to study math, of all subjects.”

His eyes swept her perfectly proportioned body and the delicate lines of her face. Somehow he knew any teenager worth a damn would have a pretty sizeable crush on Violet. In fact, Dean probably was looking forward to math for the first time in his life. “Oh, I don’t know about that. It’s probably the highlight of his weekend.”

“And what exactly are you implying?” she asked, leaning into his shoulder, shoving him as they walked side by side down the trail.

“That math isn’t so bad when the tutor looks like you.”

She looked away quickly, but he could still see the blush racing up her neck and the side of her face.

“Did I embarrass you?” he asked when she didn’t respond.

“A little,” she admitted.

He smiled inwardly. Most women ate up his compliments and begged for more. “Good time for a change of subject,” he suggested.

“Yep.”

“Okay. Since you’re busy tonight, when do you want to make the muffins?”

“Tomorrow. Ten in the morning.”

“I’m free,” he answered almost too quickly.

“Your place.”

“Why my place?”

“So you have to clean up the mess.”

“Do I need to buy the ingredients, too?” he asked.

Nibbling on her lip, she mulled over his question for a moment. “I’ll get the ingredients. You get the mess.”

“Somehow, I think I got the downside of that bargain, but tomorrow morning it is.” And damn, if he wasn’t looking forward to spending a morning cooking with Little Violet. He wanted to sink into her softness and bask in her goodness for just a little while. Was it wrong to want something he shouldn’t? He didn’t know any longer, but he didn’t want to let her slip through his fingers without tasting her at least one time.

Chapter Six

At exactly ten on Sunday morning, Violet knocked on Alec’s door. She’d been awake less than thirty minutes, which gave her very little time to get dressed and drink enough coffee to pull her out of her stupor.

Even though she planned to be home no later than nine last night, she didn’t make it home until four in the morning. When she showed up to tutor Dean, there was no food in the house and Dean wouldn’t tell her how long it’d been since he and his sister had a real meal at home. She couldn’t stand the thought of them having nothing to eat, so she went to the grocery store and bought enough food to last the entire week, but when she returned, Dean’s sister had an insanely high fever. She ended up taking her to the emergency room and Dean’s mother wasn’t able to get off of work until about three in the morning. Dean begged her to leave, but she didn’t feel right about leaving Dean at the hospital by himself. She was paying for that decision this morning, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it now. Besides, she couldn’t leave Dean and his sister to fend for themselves. It wasn’t right.

When Alec opened the door, Violet stood in the doorway with flour, sugar, and eggs balanced in her arms. She felt more than a little bit frazzled, but she made it, and that’s all that counted, at least in her sleep-deprived mind. She should have canceled or postponed their muffin baking party, but when she thought about seeing him today, her body buzzed with excitement.

“Let me take that,” Alec said, scooping everything out of her arms and smiling at her in a way that made the butterflies in her stomach come alive.

“Tell me you have butter.” She walked into the apartment and dropped onto the couch, letting her head fall backwards.

“I do.” Alec set the ingredients on the table. “Why?”

“We need butter for the muffins, but I didn’t have any and I didn’t have time to stop at the grocery store. I woke up less than an hour ago or I would’ve been more prepared.” She stretched her legs out onto the coffee table. Maybe Alec would do the majority of the baking while she closed her eyes for a few more moments.

“Late night?” he asked. She heard his refrigerator open and close.

“Something like that,” she mumbled.

“Did you go out after tutoring Dean?”

She opened her eyes. “If spending the night in the emergency room is considered going out, then I went out.”

“What?” He walked toward her, his eyes drifting over her body, inventorying every detail. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “No, not me. Dean’s sister. She had a really high fever and it didn’t go down after I gave her medicine. I finally decided to take her to the hospital.”

He placed his hands on her shoulders, massaging her. “Is she okay?” His voice was low and sexy and she felt her sleepy haze dissolving under his touch.

“Yes. She has the flu, but she’ll be fine in a week or less.”

“Good.”

He started to pull his hands away, but she clasped her hand around his wrist. “Just a couple more minutes. That feels good.” As her head fell forward, she let out a little moan when he dug into a particularly tight spot and then moved down her arms in a delicious sweep.

“About these muffins,” he said. To her dismay, he  dropped his hands from her shoulders. She already mourned the loss of his touch. He was unraveling her defenses one by one and she couldn’t even remember why wanting him was a bad idea.

“What about them?”

“I have a feeling I’m going to be making them by myself today.”

Tipping her head back so she could see his face, she nibbled on her lower lip as she took in his dark blue eyes. She’d never seen anything like them. In comparison, every other pair of blue eyes she’d seen looked washed out next to his indigo irises. She loved the way they changed from icy to fiery within seconds depending on his mood. “I can help.”

He sucked his lip ring into his mouth. “How about I do the cooking and you direct from the kitchen table? I’ve never made muffins before.”

“You’re making me feel bad. I roped you into picking the berries, making the muffins, and now I’m not going to help.”

He brushed her hair away from her neck and leaned forward so his lips were only inches from her ear. She tried and failed to hold back a shiver. “I’ll let you in on a little secret.”

“Yes?” she asked, her voice cracking on the word.

“I don’t mind cooking. In fact, my friends call me the food Nazi all the time because I’m really particular about cooking and eating.” His warm breath seeped into her pores, making her feel a little giddy, or maybe that was just her lack of sleep. She hoped it was the latter because feeling anything for Alec was certifiably insane. He had warning signs flashing all over him like his dark tattoos, the scar running through his eyebrow, and his hooded eyes that were both alluring and foreboding at the same time. He was temptation incarnate and she wouldn’t succumb to his charm. Look, don’t touch, she reminded herself. She didn’t need a man in her life right now. She only had to look at her track record with her last few boyfriends. It never worked. She didn’t have time for a relationship.

“What do you mean by really particular?” she asked, swiveling to face him.

“I like to be in control so I probably wouldn’t have let you help anyway.”

“Are you sure?” She smirked as her eyes swept the length of him with his faded gray t-shirt, dark jeans, and bare feet. He seemed so comfortable in his own skin, as though he didn’t care what other people thought about him. They could take him or leave, but he wouldn’t change for anyone. She liked that about him.

His lips floated across her hair so softly, her body buzzed with possibilities. “More than sure.”

Violet reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper folded into fours and handed it to Alec. “Everything you need to know is on that piece of paper.”

Alec raised his eyebrows as he opened the piece of paper and scanned the directions. When he finished, he folded the paper and headed toward the kitchen. “The muffins don’t sound too hard to make. I think I’ll have to add a few things, but this is a good starting place.”

“Oh good, because I’ve never made them before. I begged my mom to email me the recipe this morning.”

His eyes darted back and forth between her eyes and lips and it’s possible that her toes curled at bit in response. After a few seconds, he walked around to the front of the sofa and held out his hand. “Ready?”

“Ready for what?”

“To watch the magic happen.”

She giggled, and she never giggled. She was far too serious for that. What was it about Alec that made her act so un-Violet-like? “Maybe I could nap while you do the prep work. How does that sound?”

“Not happening. If I have to spend my Sunday morning baking muffins for troubled teens, you’re going to be right there with me.” He wiggled his fingers, prompting her to move. “Now move.”

“Ugh. You’re such a slave driver,” she said, rolling her eyes in mock displeasure as she grabbed onto his hand, allowing him to drag her to her feet. He pulled her into the kitchen never releasing her hand, his thumb tracing idle patterns on the inside of her wrist.

“Sit,” he said, pulling out a chair at the table. He pulled out bowls and measuring cups from the makeshift kitchen in the basement apartment. Sometimes her mom stayed there and she kept it stocked with the essentials, but nothing fancy.

“Sitting,” she responded, bracing her elbows on the table and cupping her chin. “Is there anything else you want me to do?”

“I’ll let you know when I need your help.”

“Yes, sir.”

Alec tossed the flour, eggs, sugar and melted butter in a bowl. Turning around, he leveraged the bowl against his chest as he stirred. She watched as his arms flexed with every movement and his tattoos came to life, dancing on his muscular arms. Before Alec, tattoos weren’t her thing, but when they decorated arms like his, she understood the appeal. She couldn’t lie to herself; it was a nice view. No nice was wholly inadequate to describe Alec at that moment. He looked sexy as hell.

“You know, this would be much easier if I had an electric mixer.”

“But then I couldn’t watch your arms work and I really like that part.” Oh shit, did she really say that? She looked at his face. Most definitely.

With a lopsided grin on his face and his eyebrows raised, Alec turned around and she wanted to swallow her tongue so she couldn’t say anything else so stupid. Alec probably thought she was some kind of crazy stalker who first pushed him to rent her basement apartment, then she practically twisted his arm to hike with her yesterday, and now she invited herself to make muffins with him. At that thought she nearly groaned. If she wanted to act like a stalker fangirl, at least she could be a little more creative and sexy than asking him to bake and hike with her, not that watching Alec bake wasn’t sexy because, who was she kidding? It was, but it would be infinitely more interesting if he had his shirt off and she could see where those tattoos ended.

When he reached up into one of the upper cabinets, the hem of his shirt lifted ever so slightly and she could see a hint of his flat stomach. Her breath hitched as her eyes fought to stay on his face, the kitchen, the mixing bowl…anything except that tempting expanse of skin. He sprinkled a few spices into the batter, but she focused on the way his shirt stretched and pulled across his back than his attempts to modify the recipe. He looked so good it was almost obscene. Okay. No more ogling. She was drifting into restraining order territory.

He walked toward her with the mixing bowl cupped in one hands. “Open up,” he said.

“Why?”

He sat in the chair next to her. “I want you to taste it. Let me know if you think it’s good.”

She shook her head. “No. I have a strict rule against contracting salmonella poisoning on Sundays. It’s supposed to be a day of rest and reflection. Not a day of exercise.”

He frowned, his brows knitted together. “I’m sorry. Did that make sense?”

“Yes.” Her lips twitched at the blank look on his face. “I don’t want to spend the day exercising my digestive tract in unnatural and uncomfortable positions involving a toilet bowl.”

“Oh please.” He rolled his eyes as he dipped his finger into the batter. “Just a little taste. You’ll be fine.” He dangled his finger dripping with batter in front of her mouth. She shook her head again. “If you get sick, I’ll take care of you until you’re fully recovered.”

“Fine.” She opened her mouth and he slipped his finger inside. Before she could question her motives she snapped her mouth closed, her lips wrapping around his finger.

Slowly he withdrew his finger, but not before she deliberately swirled her tongue around him, making sure to eat every last drop of batter from his finger. “Mm…that’s wonderful.”

“Told you,” he said softly, his dark, hooded eyes burning her up with their intensity. The tension between them ricocheted around the room; she couldn’t have looked away if she wanted to and she didn’t.

“Yes,” she said so softly she didn’t know if he heard her.

Then he leaned forward, his lips only inches from hers, desire singeing the air between them. His citrus cologne mixed with sugar and flour engulfed her, enslaving every one of her senses. She didn’t know whether he wanted to kiss her, but at that moment she wouldn’t push him away if he tried. In fact, there was nothing she wanted more than for him to brush his lips across hers, even if it wasn’t for a full-blown kiss. She’d settle for anything he was willing to give.

Dark blue eyes tracked every movement as she tittered forward another inch, unable to resist his magnetic pull. With her lips tingling in anticipation, she licked her lower lip and her eyes closed, heavy from the unadulterated lust rioting in her veins. He released a sigh and his warm breath flitted across her face like a sugary balm.

And then…she heard his chair scrape across the floor and he was gone. Survival instinct alone allowed her to suppress the groan of humiliation scaling the walls of her throat. There’s nothing as cringe-worthy as totally misreading an incoming kiss and allowing her eyes to flutter closed while the guy flees. She rubbed her hands over her face and then stood up.

“It looks like the muffins are in good hands. I really need to check on Dean’s sister and get some sleep.”

Alec didn’t turn to look at her. He busied himself looking for something in his kitchen cabinets. He was really good at the dodge and weave thing, but then again with the way he looked, he probably had to dodge and weave often. “Do you think I can make huckleberry bread instead of muffins?” he asked, setting a loaf pan down on the countertop.

“I don’t see why not.” She shifted back and forth on her feet a couple times. “I guess I forgot about the whole pan thing when I came up with this idea yesterday.”

“No worries.”

“Do you want me to stop by later to get it?”

“No,” he blurted out, turning around to look at her for the first time since the aborted kiss incident. “I’ll bring the bread with me to the Foundation tomorrow.”

“Great. Thanks for your help.”