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I’m lost in my thoughts when I open my locker, swinging the metal door open and do a double take. There, sitting in all its glory, is a cold can of iced tea and a warm sandwich. I lean back slightly over the door of the locker to see if anyone is watching me or to give me a hint of who could have placed the food there but come up empty. There is no one watching me. It’s just people trying to get their stuff and leave for the day.
I check the lock on the locker’s door and figured that whoever placed the food inside my locker knows how to get in my locker without the code. When I grab the warm sandwich, I notice it’s a melted swiss and turkey sub that has my stomach growling in protest. It smells so good my mouth waters.
Looking at the wrapper, I notice that it’s from a sub place and not the cafeteria and I wonder if it was Cason that placed it there. He figured I liked the iced tea and I remember him frowning when I had to throw away my lunch because of Jimmy and his immature bullshit.
Closing the locker with a thud, I make my way with the sandwich and iced tea in hand, quickly opening the wrapper and taking the first bite. I almost outwardly groan at how good and perfect it tastes. It was exactly what I needed. When I make it out of the parking lot, I see a familiar black Roll Royce parked in the student parking lot. The driver quickly exits and gives me a grin.
“Miss Rayne?” he drawls.
I slow my steps and swallow the bite of food I had in my mouth. “Yes.”
“I am here to take you home.” He opens the back passenger door and waits for me to enter the vehicle.
“Oh, I think you are mistaken. I wasn’t waiting to be driven anywhere.”
Who could have called for a driver? I place the can of iced tea under my arm and retrieve my phone to see if I have any missed messages.
When I see that there isn’t any, I look up. “I’m sorry, but no one has let me know that they sent you to pick me up.”
He smiles. “I can assure you the St. Claire's have requested me to take you home.”
I recognized him from the first time I was taken to the St. Claire's house and since the ride is requested from them, I don’t want to argue or give cause for Mr. and Mrs. St. Claire to be upset with me. I slide inside the luxury cabin of the car and just like the first time, the smell of fresh, expensive leather assaults me.
I have never been inside a car so luxurious before meeting the St. Claire's and quickly wrap my sandwich up to avoid making a mess in such a beautiful car. My parents always had one car and it was a used Honda with no leather or any kind of luxury this vehicle has to offer.
The driver takes us out onto the road and the ride is short since it's only three miles long and I enter the pristine home that is so over the top with marble floors and expensive vases with an iron accented spiral grand staircase you see in celebrity houses on TV.
I walk up the staircase and enter my room to get ready and clean the second floor like Mrs. St. Claire instructed me to every weekday for four hours.
After cleaning the hallway bathroom making sure everything is in place, I look over to a closed door that must be Kalum’s room. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes briefly and turn the intricate knob down, and the door slowly swings open. My eyes scan the empty room with football trophies lining the wall of the massive bedroom.
Looking around, I realize his king-size four-poster bed is unmade. There is a pile of clothes in one corner and a huge mess on a wood desk that must be where he does his homework.
Walking farther inside, I inhale the scent of his cologne mixed with a scent that is all male. This is what he must smell like up close and if I’m to be honest, It’s attractive. If I compared the scent of Kalum to Marcus, there is just no comparison. Kalum smells expensive, dangerous, and all male. Marcus is just, well, Marcus. Typical teenage football player and the star quarterback of Spencer Public High school.
I begin to work stripping the sheets of Kalum’s bed hoping I don’t find something that will scar me for the rest of my life like a used condom and place the comforter with sheets in separate piles. Placing my headphones in my ears, I play 24/7 by Ella Mai and start singing along as I get to the pillows next.
Swaying my hips, I grab the caddy just outside the door and begin to wipe his nightstand. My brows furrow when I notice a cell phone plugged into the charger. The hairs on the back of my neck stand and I realize I’m not alone.
The air in the room has changed, and it’s charged with an energy I can’t place. The smell of clean body wash that matches the scent of cologne reaches me and I turn my head and jolt, dropping the rag in my hand.
I place my hand over my chest and take my headphones off. “You scared me,” I say breathlessly.
Standing in all his shirtless glory with a white towel wrapped around his waist is Kalum leaning against the doorjamb, tilting his head with a brow raised. Are those tattoos all over his arms and chest? Come on, Aura, get a grip.
“I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were home.” I lower my gaze, so he doesn’t notice I’m ogling the muscles of his chest and bulging biceps.
He pushes off the doorway and walks farther into the room and my eyes move, looking to the floor. I have never seen a man completely naked in person before, but Kalum St. Claire is clearly all man, and the lower half of me recognizes it. The man is beautiful. Everywhere. He is gorgeous with a chiseled body but when he speaks, he has the worst attitude.
My cheeks heat because I’m in his room and he is naked underneath the towel fresh out of a shower. I bend my knees lowering slowly and pick up the rag in my hand and turn to keep working on wiping down the furniture hoping he would go back and change in the bathroom, preferably with the door closed.
“What are you doing here?”
I freeze and angle my head toward him and he is still clad in the towel.
“What does it look like? I’m cleaning your room. It is what your mother had instructed me to do when I came home. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you would be here. I was trying to be quick and get it done before you made it home.”
“Well, I didn’t agree for you to clean my room and I prefer you didn’t unless I’m here. I don’t want you going through my stuff.” He opens a drawer and takes out some boxers, the ding of the brass handle sounding against hard wood when he slides the drawer closed.
