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He finally spoke. "Because a granola bar for dinner is not acceptable for you."
I scoffed at that pitiful lie. "You expect me to believe that you, my very busy corporate lawyer friend, have time to be concerned about my lack of a proper dinner on one night of my week."
He nodded slowly from his lounging position in the chair, seemingly at ease with my question.
"Was that a yes?" I pushed for a little more, even though my heart felt like it might bust out of my chest.
"Mm-hmm."
"You care about what I eat for dinner," I said again, unbelieving.
"I care about everything that has to do with you." His eyes burned into mine as he said it.
How I managed to stumble back into my seat for Dr. Drummond part deux I will never know. I certainly didn't hear one word or write down a single note. I ignored Ryan's curious glances and watched the clock instead. My heart was racing too fast to comprehend anything beyond what James had said to me during the break. I care about everything that has to do with you.
Was he telling me he was attracted to me? Tonight it was hard to justify his intentions merely as that of a concerned friend. He'd been nothing but clear when he'd made the comment. He'd also been clear about the fact he'd be waiting when class was over to take me home.
Chapter Four
JAMES
Winter didn't say a whole lot on the drive home. She sat in the passenger seat of my car with her arms crossed looking beautiful…and mad. My traitorous cock loved the way she looked too.
A whole fucking lot.
The erotic Winter fantasies I often indulged in weren't even close to being contained anymore. While I'd waited for her class to finish in the empty classroom, all I'd been able to think about was how badly I wanted her bent over my knee. I'd spank that fine ass of hers until it was beautifully reddened by my hand, and all thoughts of wandering the streets alone at night were out of her pretty head for good.
I knew she was pissed at me for not saying why I'd come tonight, but I couldn't tell her the truth. What was I supposed to say? I can't think of anything but you most of the time and worrying about you in a dangerous situation makes me fucking mental. She didn't know how I felt about her. Not that I was very sure of how I felt, either. My headspace was so fucked up since my father's ultimatum, and I had no idea what I was doing with her anymore. My obsession had only grown with the urge to claim her as mine.
At least I didn't think she knew.
Maybe I'd revealed my hand tonight, because the shit that had tumbled out of my mouth in that classroom during her break was not so subtle. Time to dial it back again. I had to…for her sake.
I pulled into the underground structure of our building and parked in my spot. I made no move to get out of the car though, because first I needed to make sure we were okay. "Winter, I hope you're—"
"You won't have to do this next week," she blurted into the uncomfortable silence.
"Maybe I want to. I don't consider it a burden."
"No, you really don't have to, because Dr. Drummond has cancelled class due to Thanksgiving the next day. He said all we have is a paper to turn in and to sign the attendance sheet and then we can go." She was still mad at me, and that sucked.
"Ahh, makes sense."
"And next Wednesday I'm working, so I can drive myself to class from the center. I'll be busy getting ready for Thursday's big meal at the center anyway, so that will work better."
"Aren't you having Thanksgiving at your mom's?" I wondered what they were all doing since this was their first holiday since they'd lost their dad. It would be hard on all of them.
"Not this year. Mom will be in Charleston with her cousins. She said she couldn't bear to have it at home without Dad this f-first y-year," she stammered, as her voice grew shallow. God, my beautiful girl, don't cry.
"Right. I'm so sorry, Win. The holidays must make you all miss him even more."
"Yeah…" She dropped her head as a soft sob escaped.
The sounds of her crying pulled a visceral reaction out of me. I didn't think beyond another second of what I should do. I pulled her into my arms and held her with the console between us as she cried. I breathed in the scent of her, as I stroked the back of her head over and over. Holding her against me so close—offering her comfort—felt like heaven, even though the reason for it was horrible. She was hurting and missing her father, an honorable and beloved man she would never see for the rest of her life. It wasn't fair, but it was her reality.
I had no idea how long I held her, but eventually the sobs quieted. "If you feel like talking, I'd love to hear a story about your dad." I felt her press into me a bit harder as she comprehended what I'd said. I waited and kept on smoothing the back of her head with my hand. Letting go of her was not an option.
"On Th-thanksgiving every year, Dad had us all share what we were most thankful for that year. It's there with my earliest memories, so I know he had each of us doing it by the time we could talk. It was j-just p-p-part of the deal."
