“Fuck!” Carter cried, running full speed back into the shop to grab his bag and keys. “I’m fucking late! I’m late!”
He pulled on his leather jacket and shades, and ran back out of the shop toward Kala. “My session!” he called back to Max, then pulled on his helmet and threw his leg over the bike. “I’m late and I said I wouldn’t be! I told her I wouldn’t be!”
“Oh, the tutor,” Max replied as Carter steered the rumbling bike onto the road with his feet. “Hey, if you’re not interested, tell her I’ll show her a damned good time! I always had a thing for redheads.”
He laughed when Carter flicked him the finger before revving the Harley and speeding off like a bat out of hell.
*
Kat drummed her nails on the library table in annoyance, wondering why the hell she’d thought Carter had meant it when he’d said that he would be on time.
Oh yes—because she was stupid.
She was stupid for thinking he’d be on time. She was stupid for looking forward to their time together and resenting him for cutting it short. And she was really stupid for having taken time to reapply a little lip gloss before she reached the library.
She pulled the copy of Walter the Lazy Mouse he’d given her out of her bag and reread the note he’d written. “No matter what the obstacles …”
Well, she thought dryly, the biggest obstacle right now was the fact that the guy would be late to his own funeral. She closed the book and glanced at the clock once again. Four ten. She’d waited thirty minutes the last session. She’d wait twenty this time. She picked up her phone, checking for any messages or missed calls from him. Nothing. The only text she had was from Austin, telling her to have a good day and asking if she had plans on Saturday.
She heaved a sigh, avoiding looking across at the shelves of books where Carter’s large, strong, muscular arm had grabbed her and held her so deliciously—
“Dammit!” She dropped her forehead on the table. “It’s just a stupid crush. Get a grip. Just because he’s pretty doesn’t mean you—”
“Who’s pretty?”
Oh. Holy. Shit.
Kat sat up very, very slowly.
“My … shoes,” she answered, extending her foot so Carter could see the gunmetal-gray Gucci pump. “Aren’t they pretty?” She kept her eyes on her shoes, trying to calm her racing heart.
Carter cocked puzzled eyebrows above eyes that raked over the foot, ankle, and leg she was showing him. “Um, they’re not really my style, but, yeah, great.” He pulled off his jacket and flung it over the back of his seat, grimacing. “So, I know I’m late. And I know I said I wouldn’t be.”
“Yes,” she answered sharply, eager for the change in topic. “Again. I know you have stuff you need to do, but so do I. And your being constantly late just isn’t going to work. We’ve already lost fifteen minutes.”
“Give me a break here, Peaches. It’s only our second session. I’m still trying to find my groove and shit with everything. It won’t be like this forever … I’m trying, okay?”
Kat noticed his face was softer, more vulnerable. She frowned. “What happened?”
Carter sat back, looking surprised. “What?”
“Why were you late? What happened?”
He inhaled deeply and rubbed his neck. “There was a … family issue I had to deal with and I lost track of time.”
Family? That was the last thing she thought he was going to say. She knew nothing about his family. “Is everything all right?”
“Um … yeah, everything’s fine.” His eyes darted away. “Can we start now?”
Kat saw the tension creep back into his jaw. The truth was, she barely knew the man sitting before her, and it was cause for concern. She was lusting after him, yet all she knew for sure was that he’d done time, he had a good education, and he worked in a body shop with his best friend. The fact that he made smoking look sexy as all hell and looked fucking amazing in jeans and Ray-Bans was inconsequential.
Although …
Damn.
“I see you came straight from work again,” she noted with a tip of her head toward his red White Stripes T-shirt smothered in oil.
“Yeah, I get covered in the stuff.” He glanced at her from under his lashes, his gaze like a hot finger pressed to her skin. “Sorry for being late.” He rubbed his hands down his face. “Christ, I need a cigarette.”
Kat stood, scraping her chair across the linoleum floor. “If you need a smoke, let’s go outside and have a smoke.”
“But you don’t smoke.”
Kat put her hands on her hips and took two steps toward the door. “I like to watch,” she sassed. “Come on.”
*
Carter watched her for a moment, then followed. Outside of the library, in the warm sunshine, they went to the smoking area.