Dirty Curve

by Meagan Brandy

Oh my god, I woke him up. Tobias: why not? I frown and respond. Me: I’m so sorry, go back to sleep. Tobias: cute, Tutor Girl. Cute? What’s cute.

Ten seconds later, a picture pops up and my eyes pop with it. Okay, so I didn’t wake the man up. It’s a quick shot of the camera turned toward him. His shirt’s off, hat’s backward and his tongue is sticking out of his mouth. He’s holding his fist in front of his chest to show the two-mile distance stamp on his watch. It’s dark, nothing but the stadium lights lighting the track behind him.

It’s just a playful shot he took on the fly, and I like it. It’s him. Happy-go-lucky, confident.

I jerk when my phone vibrates again, and Bailey jumps. Shit. Tobias: I already made breakfast, ran the bleachers, and I’m coming up on my third mile. Me: You’re insane. Tobias: Guess that makes two of us. I’m not the one texting before dawn. My lips curve into a small grin. Touché. Granted, my alarm isn’t set to go off until five thirty.

Me: You know what they say. The early bird gets the worm. Tobias: And the hot water, Tutor Girl! That’s gold right there. My lips pull into a grin. Tobias: I’m gonna finish my run and later I’m gonna call you to talk about Sunday. Tell me you’ll answer.

Guilt and indecision swell in my throat. We’ve been around each other plenty of times now, so if he were going to remember me, it would have happened already, and he is only asking for a phone call. There’s no risk, right? A little voice in the back of my mind screams wrong, that something about his asking feels intimate, but apparently that voice isn’t loud enough, because I agree, and then I get up and get my day started. Who knows, maybe he’ll forget.

What?

Tobias: That right there is strike number two, Tutor Girl. Careful, the third might just come with some heat. He follows his message up with a smirk-face emoji and an airy sensation whirls through me. He’s playful, but I knew that.

“There she is.” I shriek, my hands flying to my chest as I whip my head to the left.

Tobias sits on the open liftgate of his truck bed with a mini ice chest beside him and half empty lime-flavored Jarritos in both hands. My pulse jumps when he stands, his shoes crunching against the loose gravel with his every step. “And with her phone in her hand.” He stops directly in front of me. His grin is crooked, hat’s backward, and eyes a playful blue. Jesus, he’s handsome. “Hi, Tutor Girl.” “Tobias.” My voice comes out thick, and those lips of his curve even higher. As discreetly as possible, I swallow. “What are you doing here?” “You told me you’d answer.” He slides a half foot closer. “You didn’t, so I had to break out the big guns and make a call.”

“What is that?” “It was a giant cup of sweet iced tea from Franny’s, but the ice is all melted and the sugar’s probably settled at the bottom now.” “You brought me tea?” “And a pizza, but I ate half of it while I was waiting so ...” He shrugs. A light laugh escapes and his grin deepens. “Bianca didn’t tell you what time I got off?” “My nephew was born right before Christmas break, and when I went home, there was a little label above the doorbell warning people not to wake him,”

His eyes meet mine. “I didn’t knock in case your little was sleepin’.”

“That was thoughtful of you.” “That’s the second time you’ve told me that.” I’m not sure what to say, so I’m glad when he pushes the cup toward me. “Try it out, Tutor Girl. Tell me if it’s no good no more.”

Tobias chuckles, and I look to him, my palm quickly coming up when a drop of liquid rolls over my lips. “Still to your liking?” I grin, accepting the cup when he finally does pass it over. “I’m not picky.” “Good to know.” His smirk is deep. I shake my head, sneaking a quick look at my front door. “You need to go in?” I nod. “Saturdays are my only full day at home, or usually, I should say. Normally I work at night when Bailey goes to bed, but I swapped today.” “Bailey,” he repeats. “That’s her name?”

“That’s good you swapped, one less day you’ll try walking home alone after dark.” He flashes his perfect teeth and I can’t help but laugh. “Do you usually get up as early as you were up today?” I ask what I’ve been wondering. He nods, unable to hide his grin and I know exactly why.

I just admitted to thinking of him. “Every day like clockwork. My days are seventeen hours of grinding, Tutor Girl.” “That’s tiring.” “So is a baby, I imagine.” I lick my lips, fighting off the warmth sweeping through me. “Yeah, it is sometimes.” I look to my front door and back to him. “I should go.” “Yeah, you should,” he agrees, running back to his truck and coming back with what he said, a half-eaten pizza. “For you, Miss Sanders.” My frown is instant, but I smile through it. “Thank you, Tobias.” “Anytime, Tutor Girl.”

His blue eyes shine in the sun, and he slips his hat off his head, tossing it in the seat beside him. “See you tomorrow.” “Two o’clock sharp.” He grins, shifts into drive, and says, “I’ll be here” and then he takes off. It’s after he’s gone and I’m digging my keys from my bag that I realize what he said. Here. Tomorrow at two o’clock sharp, Tobias Cruz will be here. My stomach flips and I have a feeling it’s not only nerves. Not good.

Bianca called at seven this morning to tell me she woke up sick and didn’t want to risk passing it on to Bailey. She said she’d be here if I needed her, but it was up to me. The last thing I want is for Bailey to get sick again, or for Bianca to have to care for her when she feels like death, as she put it, so it was a no-brainer. I told her not to worry, that I’d be fine, and then I remembered Tobias. Now it’s one thirty-five and I’m anxious. He’ll be here in twenty-ish minutes and I’m considering waking Bailey up, putting her in the stroller and walking who knows where. Park, maybe? Or we could go to the farmer’s market downtown? It’s gorgeous out so that could be relaxing. My phone goes off and I’m half hoping it’s Tobias canceling. It is Tobias, but he’s not canceling. He’s here.

Crapola.

Stepping out of the truck, I meet Meyer at her front door. She’s uneasy, that’s obvious, and I kind of figured she would be. So, I drop my bag at my feet, and pull out the lawn blanket I stuffed inside. “It’s nice out, want to sit out here on the grass?” She stares a long moment, and then her chin falls with a soft laugh. “There’s a small patio in the back, I think we’ll be more comfortable out there.” “I think you’re right.” I grin.

She nods, so I glide the thing open, wincing when it squeals. My eyes fly to hers. “She’s not that light of a sleeper,” she teases, walking over to push it the rest of the way. Grinning, I step out onto the patio.

“Oh.” She squeezes her body by mine, quickly grabbing it and dusting off a couple stray leaves from the overhanging tree. “Sorry,” she mumbles, and when she looks up, she gasps. It’s low and unintentional, but the good kind always are. She’s close and she didn’t realize it, but she likes it, even if she hasn’t grasped that little fact yet. She will. “We can move the chairs. I push them together sometimes.” She spins, nudging one back with her knee, but I reach past her, holding it still, and her eyes meet mine over her shoulder. “Leave it. Might make it easier to work together.”

slammed somewhere close by and jolts her from what I hope was an X-rated thought of yours truly.

She drags the table in the middle more and opens up my course lists. “You coming over worked out for me today,” she says, and we look to each other. “Bianca woke up sick, so I wouldn’t have been able to meet you. I would have had to cancel.” My eyes narrow, and I lean forward on my elbows. “You almost did, didn’t you?” She nods. “Why?”

“If she wakes up from her nap while you’re here, your time will be cut short.” “You’d make me leave?” Her frown is instant, as if she’s confused by my question. “You’d want to stay?” “My calendars clear, Tutor Girl. You’re all that’s on it today.” At first, I think she might grow uneasy, put her professional cap back on, but she doesn’t. She kicks off her slippers, folds her legs in the chair, and turns to her computer screen, but it only takes her a total of two minutes to realize all my work is already done. She looks to me with a single brow raised and a side squashed smile. I can’t help but laugh. “To be fair, I finished it after our last session so I could focus on the game.” “Well, don’t think you’re getting off that easy, you still have tests we can study for.” I playfully groan, sinking farther in the chair, and she knocks her elbow into mine. “Come on, hotshot. You may know all there is to know about baseball, but you’ve got a lot to learn about vessels and veins.”

A half hour in the walkie-talkie thing she brought out beeps. Meyer’s eyes slice to mine, tension building behind them as a quiet little croon follows. To make it easy on her, I go to stand, but her hand comes up, hesitantly covering mine on the armchair, and my blood runs warm under her soft touch. Without thinking, I flip my wrist, so her palm is lying in mine.

“I ...” She trails off, now focused on the contact. “She’ll want to eat right away.” “Sounds like me when I wake up.” She looks to me once more. “Can I help?” “When I’m home, she won’t take a bottle.” Meyer fights a grin, and my eyes fall to her chest. Not fake, but full. Literally. “Right.”

“Sometimes it takes a little while.” “I’ve got nowhere to be.” With a deep breath, she nods and pushes to her feet. I want her to be at ease, comfortable and here with her little one. That’s why I came over today instead of meeting her at the library, so I try to think of something. “I could make us something while you feed her?” “There’s not much in there right now.” A hint of pink colors her cheeks and she averts her gaze. “I haven’t gone to the store in a while.” “So, I’ll run home.” I shrug. “I’ve got chicken out already and a jar of my mom’s salsa verde. You got a stove in there?” I jerk my head. She nods. “Then we’re good. I’ll go to my house and you ...” I stand as she has. “Will you answer the door when I get back?” “I’ll consider it,” she teases, a flash of delight in her e...

“Good luck with that,” she plays in a whisper. “Because it doesn’t work.” A laugh slips from me and I curl my body around hers, taking backward steps toward the door. Right as I reach it, that soft croon turns into a cackled little cry. “Go feed your girl, little mama.” I spin and walk out. I’ll be back to feed mine. And I am. Exactly forty minutes later, I’m on her front porch. I go to ring the doorbell, to see if she was messing with me or not, but before I can, the door is slowly tugged open. Meyer stands there, her baggy sweater gone, and arms full. Her eyes meet mine, a hint of nervousness surrounding her, but she offers a side smile. She slides back, giving me space to enter, and nods her head toward the kitchen, but I don’t move ahead. I pause a foot in the door, set my bags by my feet and take a step closer to her. She stands perfectly still, the palm on her little’s back gliding higher with my advance. I hold her gaze as I lift my hand, and when it meets soft skin, my eyes fall to her daughter. She’s yet to lift her head from her mama’s chest, but the moment she feels my fingers brush agains...