Page 19 of Always: A Legacy Novel

He could do that.

“Sure, Papa.”

Calisto sighed. “Who was the girl, anyway?”

“Catherine Marcello.” That time, it was his father’s turn to go stiff. Cross laughed as he got up from the bench, and headed for the house. “It was worth it, too.”

Calisto’s groan echoed over the silent backyard. “Cross, don’t go getting yourself mixed up in that kind of mess, I swear to God. I won’t kill you for your nonsense, but another man surely might.”

He heard the warning loud and clear.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Don’t go making a spectacle of that girl, Cross!”

He wouldn’t.

Calisto thought Cross didn’t hear him when he spoke, but he did. More than his step-father knew.

Earn a good woman by being a good man.

Yeah, Cross listened … when it was important.

“Pretty sure that’s against the school’s dress code policy.”

Catherine’s head popped up at the new, unexpected voice to her left. There, she found Cross Donati grinning down at her. Dark eyes. Black hair. Cunning smile. His three-day suspension was apparently up. She got a much better look at his face and features when he was this close, and not rolling on the ground and beating his fists into someone else’s face.

Jesus.

Pretty was not the kind of word used to describe boys, but if it was the right one Catherine would give it to Cross. His face was all strong lines, tan skin, and the dimple in his right cheek peeking out when his lips quirked up just enough at the corner. Her heart picked up speed a bit. He, like all the other students at the Academy, wore the standard navy and white uniform, tie included. Although, his navy blazer seemed to have been replaced by a leather jacket. Girls got the option of skirts or pants, but Catherine hated them both.

It was all ugly.

Well …

She couldn’t help but think Cross wore the uniform a hell of a lot better than the other boys did.

Cross tipped his head to the side when Catherine couldn’t form words. “You don’t speak?”

“Um.”

He pointed at the open chair at the table. “This open, or …?”

“Is anyone sitting there?”

“Nope.”

“Is there stuff there to say someone might come back?”

“Nope.”

Catherine smiled sweetly. “Then I guess it’s open, Cross.”

“Cute.” Cross slid into the chair with the grace of what Catherine might consider to be a predator. He was at least a half of a foot taller than her five foot, four inches. “I see you learned my name.”

“Seems a lot of people know your name.”

“Do you often hide in the library at lunch time?”