More of her.
When her writhing had turned to gentle swaying, he slipped his hand from beneath her skirt and brought his fingers to his mouth. Her eyes fluttered open in time to see him savor her taste and suck his fingers clean. Her lips parted slightly, and her barely concealed shock made him want her even more. Innocence and passion—her mix of it was a potent drug to his system.
“Kiss me,” he said, a gentle command and challenge.
After only the briefest hesitation, she closed the distance between them and brought her mouth to his. He took her lips in a languid kiss, knowing she’d be able to taste her tart flavor on his tongue. He would convince her right here and now with actions and not words that she shouldn’t walk away yet, that she needed to explore this as much as he did. He would make her crave more. But right as he was deepening the kiss and pulling her against him, an acrid scent tickled his nose. He dismissed it for a moment, too wrapped up in the feel of Contessa in his arms, but soon the smell was too strong to ignore. He pulled back, alarm bells starting to ding through the growing fog of desire in his head.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Do you smell that?” He let her go and peered over his shoulder toward the kitchen.
She sniffed. “Smells burnt.”
He shook his head. That wasn’t a burnt smell. It was a burning smell. He strode toward the appliances, checking to see if an oven or stove had been left on or if a greasy towel had been left somewhere and ignited. But nothing seemed amiss. His staff was well-trained to check and double check everything for safety before closing up each night. But the smell was growing stronger.
“Van!”
He turned. Contessa pointed at the door that led out to the side hallway and exit. Dark black smoke was creeping beneath. Dread rushed through him. He closed the distance between the two of them in three long strides, grabbing her purse from the countertop and shoving it at her. “We need to get out of here. Now!”
She let him hustle her toward the door that led to the dining room, but when they swung the door open, a rush of hot, acrid smoke blew right in their faces. His eyes and throat burned with it, and Contessa started coughing beside him. “Van.”
“Get down low,” he barked, keeping a hold of her elbow. Heat shimmered in the air as they crouched down and heard the first roar of flame and crack of wood. The sound seemed to be coming from the main dining area, though it was impossible to see anything in the smoke. “Stay with me. Don’t let go. I’m going to get us to a back exit.”
Contessa was coughing hard now, unable to respond. Shit. He needed to get them out fast before she took in too much smoke. And why the fuck weren’t the sprinklers going off? Luckily, he knew the layout of this restaurant better than his own house. It was one he’d designed himself. It’d been his first baby, the one he loved the most. And now it was burning. Crawling on their hands and knees, he led Contessa through the banquet room and to an emergency exit. He hopped to his feet and shoved the door open with his hip, a wave of cool night air swooping in as he dragged her outside and into the back alley.
“Baby, talk to me,” he demanded, his heart hammering in his chest.
She’d stopped coughing and had gone heavy in his arms. He hauled her up and off her feet and carried her away from the building. Sirens wailed in the background as he laid her out on the grass in front of the flower shop across the street. Her cheeks were black with soot and her eyes were shut, but he could see her chest still rising and falling.
“Contessa, come on, baby, take a few deep breaths for me.” He tugged off his shirt and ran to a water fountain to soak the fabric. Then he hurried back to her side, his lungs still burning, and wiped the soot away from her face with the cool cloth. “Come on, sweetheart. You’re scaring me.”
She coughed, a loud hacking sound, but it was one of the sweetest Kade had ever heard.
He rolled her onto her side. “That’s it. Get that shit out.”
A fire truck sped to a halt in the street and men poured out, two heading Kade’s way and the rest going for the building. The young firefighter hustled over and knelt next to Contessa, while the other flagged down an EMS crew that pulled up behind the fire truck.
“Ma’am, we’re here to help you,” the first one said, as he started checking her over.
“She took in too much smoke,” Kade said in a rush. “We got out quickly, but there was so much smoke so fast.”
“Was there anyone else in the building?”
“No.”
The EMTs were already hurrying over with equipment and oxygen. She was going to be all right. Help was here.
Kade sank back onto the grass, relief enveloping him. Thank God.
In the background, flames licked up the side of his restaurant, engulfing and devouring his favorite location. But he couldn’t find it in himself to care at the moment. Contessa was going to be okay. The restaurant was just wood and metal and could be replaced.
“Sir, do you know this woman?” the EMT asked. “Or if she has any medical conditions or allergies I should be aware of before we take her in?”
Contessa tried to speak but she started coughing again and they put an oxygen mask over her face. She pointed to her purse. Kade grabbed for it and pulled out her wallet to dig for information. He found a medical card. “She’s allergic to penicillin and codeine.”
“And what’s her name?” the EMT asked, not even looking at Kade.
“It’s Con—” But he stopped himself when his eyes landed on the name listed on the card, his throat trying to close. “It’s Tessa McAllen.”
“Thank you.”
But Kade didn’t even hear him. Or notice another medic who came over to check and see if he needed any help. All Kade could hear were his own words repeating in his head. It’s Tessa McAllen.
Tessa McAllen.
Tess . . .
Everything inside him knotted—longing mixed up with a paradoxical dose of pure bitterness. For a moment, he was transported back years to a version of himself he’d tried to forget existed, to a night he’d tried to obliterate from his psyche.
“Sir, you can ride with us to the hospital or follow us there if you feel okay to drive.”
“I c-c-can drive.” What the hell? He nearly slapped his hand over his mouth, the stuttered word like the sound of breaking glass to his ears. He hadn’t flubbed a word in over a decade. He rolled his shoulders, shaking off the reappearance of the old tic.
The medic adjusted the oxygen mask on Tessa’s face. “Looks like she’s going to be fine since you both got out so quickly. But we want to get her checked out and run a few tests to be sure.”
Kade nodded absently as he stared down at Tessa. Her hair was blonde now and she was curvier, softer in the best possible way. But, of course, all those years would’ve changed things. Nothing about him resembled the boy she’d known back then either, not even his name.
She was still as beautiful as he remembered, though. And based on some of the things she’d said tonight, probably just as unattainable.
The only difference was maybe this time he could actually do something about it if he wanted to. The question was—did he want to? Last time he’d taken a risk on Tessa McAllen, his life had blown up and disintegrated around him. He didn’t need that kind of drama in his life again or a regular reminder of what he most hoped to forget.
But as he watched Tessa get loaded into the back of the ambulance, he knew there was no way he could step back and let her walk out of his life a second time. She’d said that she only wanted tonight. She’d said this was a one-time thing.
Kaden Fowler would’ve turned and gone home. That boy had been used to hearing no.
But Kade Vandergriff didn’t even know what the word sounded like.
FIVE
1996
Kaden Fowler sat
in a shaded spot with his back against the grimy brick wall of Henley High’s recreation building, hoping to blend into it. The rest of the junior and senior class were either still inside the cafeteria eating or were gathered in small groups around the main yard, claiming their piece of concrete or grass and trying to impress each other.
Kaden never did either here—try to impress or eat. After one too many fatass and oink-oink comments in junior high, he’d learned to fill up at breakfast and then wait until dinner to eat again. Even after he’d shot up six inches over the last year and was more bulk than chub now, the jerkoffs who’d teased him then wouldn’t fail to remind him of his former fat-kid status. Once branded as such, it never went away. And if they didn’t pick on that, they’d go after his other obvious weakness—his stutter.
He pulled the latest Stephen King novel and his Walkman out of his backpack, putting the headphones over his ears, and turned to the place he’d marked in the book. But before the guitars could even kick in on Metallica’s “Until It Sleeps,” a lilting laugh cut through the music and carried his gaze up and across the yard. The minute his eyes landed on her, his stomach tightened into a fist of familiar longing.
Tessa McAllen twirled around, showing off some cheerleading move to her gaggle of friends. Her light brown hair fanned out around her, and the little spin made her skirt flit up a bit, revealing a golden swath of upper thigh and the edge of what looked to be pink panties.
Pink panties. Fuck. Me.
Kaden grimaced and shifted his weight, willing his body not to respond to the sight. And putting extra effort into forcing his mind not to draw in the rest of the picture of what was beneath her skirt. God, he’d imagined that so many times it probably qualified as some diagnosable mental illness. And if he let his thoughts go there now, he may as well drop out of school and go on the lamb. Because sporting a boner in the fucking schoolyard would be an unredeemable humiliation to come back from.
After she finished her demonstration, her boyfriend, Doug, slid his arm around her and gave her a discreet pat on the ass. Kaden wanted to break every bone in that fucker’s hand. It’d take care of two things at once—without that hand Doug couldn’t touch Tessa like that and he wouldn’t be able to throw a damn football again until the season was over. His daddy’s money couldn’t buy that back for him. Boo-hoo. The king would be ousted.
The morbid thought made Kaden smile.
“Hey, what the fuck are you grinning at, asshole?”
Doug’s loudmouth best friend, Quincy, had been hanging in the group with Tessa. But now the guy’s focus was solidly on him. Kaden barely resisted flipping the dude off and looked back down at his book, pretending the music was too loud for him to hear.
But, of course, the idiot couldn’t let it go. He ambled over, the group trailing behind him like a pack of dogs following a scent—in this case, the scent of potential drama and humiliation, the most enticing of all here at school.
Quincy peered down at Kaden, his bug eyes making him look like a pissed off pug. He kicked the front of Kaden’s Doc Martens. “Hey, I’m talking to you, K-K-Kaden.”
A few of them laughed at the old joke. Tessa didn’t. She had this cute little frown line between her brows that he wished he could reach over and smooth with his thumb. He didn’t think that’d be appreciated though. So instead, he shoved his book in his bag and stood, not saying a word. He’d worked hard to beat his childhood stutter, but when he was nervous, it came back like a fucking horror movie villain who wouldn’t die. So he’d learned to keep his mouth shut when at all possible.
Not that he was nervous about shit-for-brains Quincy, but Tessa . . . Well, he’d probably forget how to speak the English language if he tried to say anything to her. Once he was up on his feet, he was looking down at Quincy. God bless that unexpected six inches of height. At least something had gone right this year.
“So what’s the smile for, big boy?” Quincy asked, dialing up the menace in his voice, but backing up an inch. “You wouldn’t be looking at Douggie’s pretty girlfriend would you?”
Heat rushed upward, and Kaden prayed it wouldn’t make it to his face. “N-n-no.”
Fuck! Why did his body have to rebel on him at the worst goddamned moments? Blushing and stuttering. He should just hand over his balls now.
“N-n-no?” Quincy teased.
“We all see how you look at her,” Doug said, stepping next to Quincy.
“Guys, stop it, okay?” Tessa said, her gaze darting away from Kaden’s. “Leave him alone. The bell’s about to ring.”
“No, babe,” Doug said with that smarmy, I’m-better-than-you tone that seemed to be his default. “I need to look out for you. I don’t want some freak staring you down and thinking God knows what. You see the kind of books he’s always carrying, how he dresses. Sick fuck.”
Her jaw clenched. “He doesn’t look at me like anything.”
That was a lie. He did. But he wasn’t thinking sick thoughts. Well . . . depended on one’s definition of sick he supposed. “Why would y-you care if I look at her? Threatened?”
Quincy snorted, and Doug gave Kaden a curled-lip once-over. “By a fucking fag with long hair and thrift store clothes? Hardly.”
Kaden smirked. “Well, if I’m a f-f-fag, then you have nothing to worry about. And maybe I’m l-l-looking at her because I feel bad for her. She has to deal with your sorry ass.”
With that, Kaden shoved past Quincy and made his way through the group. If they were smart, they’d let him go. Because he worked hard to stay out of trouble. Dealing with his stepdad any time he stepped out of line was more trouble than it was worth. But if those pricks laid their hands on him, he’d fight back. And though he probably wouldn’t win since he didn’t push weights every afternoon like those guys, he was feeling mean enough to fight dirty and inflict some damage before they took him down. Part of him hoped they’d try.
He walked to the main doors without looking back. No one came after him.
Maybe those douchebags had a few brain cells left after all.
Tessa looked toward the far end of the library then back down to the note Mrs. Rombach had given her after Tessa had earned her third D in English. “You’ve gotta be freaking kidding me.”
“Can I help you find something, Tessa?”
Tessa turned to find the librarian, Ms. Solis, sending her a pleasant smile from behind her fortress of a desk. “Um, Mrs. Rombach wants me to sign up for tutoring in English.”
The woman’s smile turned a tad sympathetic—oh my, the poor cheerleader who got the looks but not the brains. That’s what she was probably thinking. Tessa had seen that look before. She wanted to correct her, wanted to tell the librarian that she had As in math. But all this poetry and Shakespeare crap just didn’t make sense. How was she supposed to understand stories in a language that didn’t even resemble her version of English?
“She’s matched you up with Kaden Fowler, dear,” Ms. Solis said, pointing toward the tutoring room in the back of the library. The walls of the room were clear glass and soundproof, so there was no mistaking the shaggy blond head bent over a book. “And don’t worry. I know he’s a little quiet, but that Kaden is sharp as a tack. Goes through at least three books on his own a week.”
Tessa forced her face to form some version of a smile. “Is there someone else available? I mean, not that I doubt Kaden’s skills or whatever, but I don’t think he likes me very much.”
“I’m sure that’s not the case,” she said, a little glint in her dark eyes. “Just give it a chance. If you feel he’s not the right tutor for you, you can talk to Mrs. Rombach.”
Well, crap. Mrs. Rombach was not her biggest fan. She had a feeling the woman had some sort of vendetta against the cheer squad and would simply fail her if she complained about which tutor she’d been assigned. Plus, if word got back to her foster parents that she w
as making waves, everything could go to hell. The Ds were going to be hard enough to explain.
With a heavy sigh, Tessa hefted her schoolbag higher on her shoulder and headed toward the back, determined not to make this a big deal. She tapped on the door before swinging it open, and Kaden lifted his head. The oh-shit expression on his face probably mirrored the one she’d worn when she’d walked into the library a few minutes ago.
“Uh, c-c-can I help you with something?”
She winced inwardly at his slight stutter, remembering how horrible Doug and Quincy had teased him a few days ago at lunch. Kaden hadn’t helped his situation, though, when he’d insulted Doug in front of the group. Her boyfriend was mostly harmless. Quincy usually was the one who got Doug pulled into stupid crap. But Doug wasn’t going to let someone like Kaden call him sorry and let it go. And he’d certainly shit a biscuit if he knew she was spending time with the enemy.
Which is why she needed to come up with a plan. Fast.
“Okay, so, yeah, I need your help.” She set her bag on the table and glanced over her shoulder. Doug would be at football practice by now, but that didn’t mean one of their other friends wouldn’t wander into the library for something. A lot of the after-school clubs met in here.
“With?” Kaden prompted.
She pulled out her latest essay test and flattened it on the table. “I’m failing English, and you’re my new tutor.”
“Y-y-you’re the girl who needs help in English?” He scraped a hand through his too-long hair, cursing under his breath.
“Yes. Me. And look, I know you don’t like me. And I’m really sorry for the other day. Those guys can be jerks sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“It’s mostly Quincy,” she said, peeking over her shoulder again.
“Sure it is.” He nodded toward the glass partition with a smirk. “What are you looking for? Afraid someone will see you in here with the s-s-sick fuck?”
She gave a dramatic sigh and sank into a chair. This was not going at all how she’d planned. She hoped she could smile and sweetness her way through this. She wasn’t unaware of the effect she had on guys. God hadn’t given her much. Useless mother. Dead father. A crapton of foster homes. And not enough skills to know what the hell Hamlet was about. But he had given her a way with boys.