She squeezed my hand, then jumped up. Stripping her clothes off, she wiggled into the outfit I’d picked out.
I groaned and she shot me a wicked look. “Not until after supper, Puddin’.”
That name. Got me every time.
“I thought spilling my guts would wipe out my appetite, but nope.” She leaned over and kicked a hip out, giving me a full view of her cleavage. “I’m starving.”
I looked my fill of her soft flesh. “Then you need to get to my truck first. Because if I catch you, we’re not gonna make it to the restaurant.”
She squealed and took off, her fantastic ass flexing under her shorts and rushing more blood to my cock, as if that weren’t where it was headed anyway.
Giving her a head start suited my purpose. She wanted to go out and what Tilly wanted, I’d give her. And the sooner we got to the restaurant and got distracted, the sooner she’d forget I still hadn’t answered her question.
Chapter 9
Tilly
I parked at the Woods’ obnoxious home and checked my phone for the twentieth time that day.
No messages.
No missed calls.
On the bright side, I wouldn’t be going into a tutoring session out of my mind with excitement that Flynn had called.
I’d spilled my history to him. And he hadn’t wanted much to do with me after. A dam of hope had burst open inside of me when I’d laid it all out. We’d gone out for supper and back to the cabin for hot, needy sex for hours. Then woken up to have goodbye sex. At the time, I’d told myself it wasn’t goodbye sex. After what we’d gone through, he’d want to see me again.
Totally.
But two weeks had gone by. I was deep into my summer schedule with no social calendar.
Maybe I ought to get one.
I blew the hair out of my eyes. Yeah, and I hadn’t the first clue how to do that.
One more look.
Nothing. I wiped all thoughts of Flynn and sex from my mind. If I didn’t do it now, it’d happen when Mrs. Woods greeted me with a pained smile and found a reason to belittle me for something.
Each time I encountered the woman, a spark of bitterness flared that I had to depend on someone like her for money. Each time, I quashed it and ran through the multitude of good things that had come my way, especially the clients who weren’t condescending hags.
I scrambled out of the car and rushed to the entrance.
Berta opened seconds after the first ring of the doorbell. The older woman emanated exhaustion and her shoulders hung in defeat. “Uffda, Tilly. It’s been a helluva day.”
I stepped inside. “Are you almost done? I see a long, warm soak in your future.”
Berta huffed. “I don’t think my bath salts can wash away Charlie’s screaming.”
“Another bad day for him?” I fortified myself. He’d been having more off days these last few weeks than normal. Well, his normal. “They’re going to need to pad his room if he keeps up his tantrums.”
Last Monday, he’d busted his forehead open. I’d gotten zero teaching in, spending most of my time coaxing him into allowing me to put on a bandage to stop the trickle of blood. It might’ve needed stitches or those bandage strips, but Mrs. Woods hadn’t been interested. Are you telling me he got hurt again on your watch?
As if she hadn’t known he’d smacked his forehead against the edge of the desk. It’d happened before I had arrived.
I scurried into Charlie’s custom learning room. He was self-soothing in the corner.
“Hey, Charlie.” He continued rocking, his little hands manipulating a texture cube. It was one of his favorite soothers, with different materials on each side.
I folded down next to him, speaking softly. He wouldn’t look at me, but after several minutes, his brown gaze finally darted in my direction.
Score.
I worked diligently with him for our hour together, my concern growing. A subdued Charlie worried me. Could it be something as simple as a growth spurt that was wearing him out and decreasing his tolerance for the world around him?
Our time was wrapping up when the door flung open.
“Charlie buddy.” Mr. Woods strode in, his tweed suit jacket hanging open and his tie undone. But his ultra-bleached white smile was on me and not his son.
I was only happy to see him for one reason: I wouldn’t have to track down Mrs. Woods and update her on Charlie’s progress. “Charlie and I just finished. Can I chat with you about our hour before I go?”
I had to be brutally specific with my request. Otherwise, he would lead me to his office to “talk.” Or back me into a wall as he “listened closely.”
His gaze traveled down to my sedate sandals and back up my legs. Dammit, why hadn’t I worn capris at the very least?
Oh, right. Because I shouldn’t have to.
“Sure, Tilly. Let me hug the big guy first.”
Not for the first time, I hoped Mr. Woods was serious about his enthusiasm in greeting his son and not using it as a way to get into my plain khaki bottoms.
He squatted by Charlie and pulled him in for a hug. A piercing shriek rang out and Charlie pushed his dad away, scurrying back to his soothing corner.
A frown pulled at my lips. For all his faults, Mr. Woods was one of Charlie’s favorite people.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” I said my goodbyes to Charlie, grabbed my tote, and crept out the door.
Mr. Woods was on my heels. I spun and faced his chest.
“Oh.” Taking a step back and clutching my bag in front of me to give myself as much personal space as possible, I
