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Dirty Curve

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Tobias: That right there is strike number two, Tutor Girl. Careful, the third might just come with some heat.

He follows his message up with a smirk-face emoji and an airy sensation whirls through me.

He’s playful, but I knew that.

The man literally can’t help the flirty way he approaches everything. It’s simply what happens when you’re attractive, athletic, and charming without trying. He couldn’t tone it down if he wanted to. Not that he wants to.

On the walk home, I go back and forth on how to respond, but as I reach my alleyway, I come to a decision.

I’m simply not going to. Message him back, that is.

We’ll meet on Sunday, like normal, and he can ask me about it then. Unless he continues to call.

Last time he thought I was ignoring him, he let my email go unanswered for weeks, fell behind on his work, and only reached out again when his play time was at risk. I don’t think he’ll do that again, but I also don’t know that he’s the type to keep calling.

“There she is.”

I shriek, my hands flying to my chest as I whip my head to the left.

Tobias sits on the open liftgate of his truck bed with a mini ice chest beside him and half empty lime-flavored Jarritos in both hands.

My pulse jumps when he stands, his shoes crunching against the loose gravel with his every step.

“And with her phone in her hand.” He stops directly in front of me.

His grin is crooked, hat’s backward, and eyes a playful blue.

Jesus, he’s handsome.

“Hi, Tutor Girl.”

“Tobias.” My voice comes out thick, and those lips of his curve even higher.

As discreetly as possible, I swallow. “What are you doing here?”

“You told me you’d answer.” He slides a half foot closer. “You didn’t, so I had to break out the big guns and make a call.”

My face falls, dread punching me in the gut, but then Tobias reveals what I didn’t even notice was hidden behind his back ... a large Styrofoam cup.

“What is that?”

“It was a giant cup of sweet iced tea from Franny’s, but the ice is all melted and the sugar’s probably settled at the bottom now.”

“You brought me tea?”

“And a pizza, but I ate half of it while I was waiting so ...” He shrugs.

A light laugh escapes and his grin deepens.

“Bianca didn’t tell you what time I got off?”

“My nephew was born right before Christmas break, and when I went home, there was a little label above the doorbell warning people not to wake him,” he shares, opening a straw on his jeans with his free hand, and poking it through the slot on the lid. His eyes meet mine. “I didn’t knock in case your little was sleepin’.”

Something thwacks behind my ribs, and I shift on my feet. “That was thoughtful of you.”

“That’s the second time you’ve told me that.”

I’m not sure what to say, so I’m glad when he pushes the cup toward me. “Try it out, Tutor Girl. Tell me if it’s no good no more.”

Reaching for the cup, I wrap my hand around the thick Styrofoam and his is so large, my fingers slightly overlap his. He shows no sign of letting go, so I lean forward, taking a small drink, and then another long, full one.

Tobias chuckles, and I look to him, my palm quickly coming up when a drop of liquid rolls over my lips. “Still to your liking?”

I grin, accepting the cup when he finally does pass it over. “I’m not picky.”

“Good to know.” His smirk is deep.

I shake my head, sneaking a quick look at my front door.

“You need to go in?”

I nod. “Saturdays are my only full day at home, or usually, I should say. Normally I work at night when Bailey goes to bed, but I swapped today.”

“Bailey,” he repeats. “That’s her name?”

My stomach muscles clench and I nod. I don’t know why I told him any of that. It’s not like he cares.

“That’s good you swapped, one less day you’ll try walking home alone after dark.” He flashes his perfect teeth and I can’t help but laugh.

“Do you usually get up as early as you were up today?” I ask what I’ve been wondering.

He nods, unable to hide his grin and I know exactly why.

I just admitted to thinking of him.

“Every day like clockwork. My days are seventeen hours of grinding, Tutor Girl.”

“That’s tiring.”

“So is a baby, I imagine.”

I lick my lips, fighting off the warmth sweeping through me. “Yeah, it is sometimes.” I look to my front door and back to him. “I should go.”

“Yeah, you should,” he agrees, running back to his truck and coming back with what he said, a half-eaten pizza. “For you, Miss Sanders.”

My frown is instant, but I smile through it. “Thank you, Tobias.”

“Anytime, Tutor Girl.”

He climbs into his truck, and as he slowly rolls backward, he leans on his arm out the window.



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