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“Do you have plans?”
“Nothing concrete.”
“Maybe you want to spend New Year’s with me? I could come back here, or we could meet up at your cabin?” I tuck her hair behind her ear. “We could have a naked weekend—or longer, depending. Just you and me, before the winter semester starts.”
Her hand comes up to cover mine. “I would like that.”
“Good. Me too.” I’m about to kiss her again, but the doorbell rings, and we both startle. “Is that your bestie?”
She glances at the clock and shakes her head. “She works Saturday mornings until eleven thirty, unless someone canceled a session.” She crosses over to the kitchen window and peeks out the blinds. “Shit. What the hell is he doing here now?”
I don’t like the tight feeling in my chest, or the sudden panic in her voice. “Is it your ex?”
“Yes. Dammit. I can’t answer the door like this.” She looks down at herself, wearing my shirt and nothing else, her hair a mess, smelling like me and sex.
“Do you want me to handle it?”
She presses her fingers to her temples. “No. Definitely not. He knows you’re my student.”
“I’mastudent. Not your student anymore.”
“Still. The optics are terrible. Fuck.”
“Won’t he leave, eventually?”
“My car is in the driveway. He knows I’m here. Or that if I’m out, I can’t have gone very far.” She grabs my hand and pulls me through the living room, checking to make sure the back deck is empty before dragging me into her bedroom.
“What do you want me to do?” She’s right. The optics are bad. And her divorce is already complicated. While I don’t care if her not-quite-ex knows I’m sleeping with her, I can see whyshedoesn’t want him to know.
She pulls my shirt over her head and rushes to her dresser. She drags a pair of cotton panties up her thighs and grabs the mismatched bra from the floor while I put my shirt back on.
The doorbell rings again, followed by knocking. She pulls a sweater over her head and throws on discarded leggings she nabbed from the floor. “Can you leave through the sliding door?”
“Are you sure you want me to go?”
She pushes up on her toes and gives me a hasty peck on the lips. “He can’t know you were here. The implications are just too . . . I’m sorry, Maverick. I’ll call you later, okay?”
Twenty-Three
Close Call
Clover
“For the record, I don’t love that this guy keeps showing up like this,” Maverick says.
He doesn’t fight me, though, letting me guide him toward the hallway. I go first to make sure the back deck is clear before I usher him out.
“Noted. Me either. We can talk about it later.” I reach for the sides of my cardigan, but I’m not wearing one, so all I can do is cross my arms.
He jams his feet into his shoes, grabs his jacket, kisses me on the cheek, and slips out the sliding door. I’m grateful the snow from last night has already melted, otherwise it would be a lot harder to hide his hasty exit. I rush back down the hall, pulling my bedroom door closed on the way. My bed is a rumpled mess, and there are condom wrappers and empty lube packets littering the floor and the night table—all things I don’t need Gabriel to see.
My plan is to tell him that continuing to show up at my house uninvited and without warning isn’t appropriate, and that if this continues, I’m going to get my lawyer involved, and he can go through her. Do I want to spend four hundred dollars every time Gabriel feels he needs to reassess our division of assets? No. But I’m tired of the bullshit, and this was too close a call.
It’s one thing for Gabriel to find out I’m sleeping with another man—and I’m entirely within my rights to do so, since we’ve been separated for nearly a year and a half. But finding out I’m sleeping with one of my former students? That’s a recipe for disaster I don’t want to learn how to make.
“What are you doing here?” I ask as I throw the door open.
Which is the moment my smoke alarm goes off.
