Jack and Carter exchanged impressed looks. Carter was happy as hell she stood up to Ward, if not a little jealous that Ward was getting a tongue-lashing and he wasn’t. Absurdly, Carter wanted nothing more than for her to start mouthing off at him.
“So, is someone gonna put me out of my misery and tell me why I’m here?” he asked instead, glancing between Miss Lane and Jack.
Jack eyed him and his attitude disapprovingly before gesturing to Miss Lane to talk. Carter waited while she cleared her throat, intrigued by her nervousness. It was a new look for her, all fidgety hands and tense shoulders.
“Well, I think it’s safe to say that you attending my classes hasn’t really worked out that well.”
He scoffed. “Yeah, no shit, lady.”
“Wes,” Jack warned with a curl of his lip. Carter rolled his eyes and signaled for Miss Lane to continue with a lift of his elbow.
“I understand your parole officer will be coming in soon to discuss your application.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, so?”
She kept her gaze firm and steady, a fact that made Carter’s fingers twitch. “And I also know that your participation in my lessons was to help with your application.”
Carter huffed out the last of the smoke and extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray with three very deliberate and sharp drops of his hand. He continued to stare at the woman in front of him while he slumped back into his seat.
“In English,” he said finally, hiding his smirk when he saw the familiar intensity burst in Miss Lane’s eyes.
There she is.
“In English,” she snarled, “I’m offering to tutor you on a one-to-one basis so you can apply for early parole despite your acting like a complete asshole, even when people are trying to help you.”
Jack stared in amazement at the little spitfire. Carter let his eyes roam down the curves and skin of her face and neck in fascination as a red heat flashed across her. He licked his lips. Damn, she was hot when she was pissed.
Abruptly, Miss Lane stood from her seat, scraping it hard against the floor before it fell back with a loud clatter. She looked at it, not moving to pick it back up and, instead, grabbed at her bag, dropping it twice before she got a secure hold on it.
Jack stood with her while she struggled. “Miss Lane?”
“Forget it,” she snapped. “I’m not wasting my time. It’s obvious you’re incapable of being anything other than ungrateful when someone offers to help.” She pulled her bag onto her shoulder. “But I get it. I get that accepting my offer wouldn’t help the totally-cool-badass persona you’ve got going on here, and I get that you’re terrified someone might see you for the intelligent person you actually are. I’m sure Mr. Ward will be thrilled that you’ll be seeing out the rest of your sentence, but who cares, right?” She spun on her heel.
Well, fuck.
Seeing the fire and challenge in her eyes and hearing the truth in her words, Carter suddenly realized the lifeline she was offering, a way of getting the parole he so desperately wanted, and his childish behavior was going to make her walk out of the room, leaving him with nothing. As infuriating as he found Miss Lane to be, he couldn’t deny he was touched that she’d agreed to help him.
He cleared his throat. “Miss Lane?”
She stopped marching toward the door. Her shoulders rose as she turned to him with an impatient expression.
“I, um,” he began, tapping his fingertips along the edge of the table, unused to showing gratitude, let alone feeling it. “Look I—I appreciate that,” Carter stammered, his eyes flitting around the room.
Miss Lane glanced at Jack, who appeared equally speechless. “Don’t worry about it. It was stupid of me to—”
“No,” he interrupted. “It wasn’t stupid. It was a good idea. I think …” Carter glanced at Jack for assistance.
“Wes,” Jack coaxed. “Are you saying you want Miss Lane to tutor you?”
Carter dropped his eyes to the table, reaching for the cigarettes.
“Well, okay,” Jack whispered. “Miss Lane?”
“So,” she said, taking a slow step toward the table. “We’re going to do this?”
“I said so, didn’t I?” Carter growled through a fog of smoke that curled into the air around him. A bemused look crossed Miss Lane’s face before she retook her seat.
Twenty minutes later and with her diary filled with the times and dates she and Carter were meeting, Miss Lane stood once again from the table and held her hand out to Jack.
He shook it enthusiastically. “Thank you, Katherine. We’ll talk more, I’m sure.”
“Absolutely,” she replied with a smile. “And call me Kat.” She glanced at Carter. “See you Monday.”
But Carter remained mute, unmoving. Still as a statue, he kept his eyes fixed on the door as it closed behind her. His pulse thundered in his ears while the sound of her name reverberated through his skull with each ferocious beat of his heart.
Katherine. Katherine. Katherine.