“Umm…no. This is Professor Caine West. I’m his teaching assistant at the music conservatory. Caine, this is Charlie. He owns O’Leary’s.”
Caine reached out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Charlie.”
Charlie shook. “You got a record, Professor?”
“A record?”
“Yeah. I don’t like my girl hanging out with trouble.”
I piped in. “Charlie—he’s my professor. I don’t think an interrogation is necessary.”
Charlie shot me a look. “Fine. But I’ll be keeping my eye on you.”
Caine didn’t seem bothered in the slightest by Charlie’s threat. If anything, he seemed amused. “Good to hear.”
Finally releasing their handshake, Charlie lightened up a bit. “What can I get you, Professor?”
“I’ll take whatever beer you have on tap. I was in here the other night. A friend of mine just moved in around the corner and said you made the best wings. But the kitchen had already closed for the night, so I didn’t get to try them. How about an order of wings?”
Charlie was old school. Two things made him like a man: A firm handshake and complimenting his wife’s wings. His face lit up proudly. “That’s my Audrey’s own secret recipe on those wings. Two orders coming right up. By the way, if you’re ever here after the kitchen closes, just let someone know you’re a friend of Charlie’s. My crew is pretty friendly.”
“Yes, they are. Rachel was very welcoming when we first met.” He glanced over at me with a wicked gleam in his eye. “I should have asked her to make me a batch. I’m sure she would have been happy to.”
None the wiser, Charlie poured Caine a beer and me a Diet Coke, and then headed to the kitchen to make our wings himself. It was that in-between time of the afternoon where the day crowd had gone home, but the evening crowd hadn’t started to trickle in yet, so there were only a few regulars sitting at the bar—most of whom were retired cops.
“Cute. Very cute, Professor.”
“I thought so.”
Caine and I went to sit at a quiet table in the corner where there was room for us to spread out and work while we ate. Since I was teaching the next lesson, he talked about what he wanted the students to take away from the assignment he’d given them today.
“The locked closet in the corner of the classroom has two hundred pair of Bose noise-cancelling headphones. Teach them about how appreciative listening can become critical listening just by changing the mode of delivery. Have them listen to the song I assigned again in the same place—on the train, or at work—only cutting out the background noise. Then have them answer the same questions I gave out today. At least half the class will notice things they didn’t the first time. The trumpets are synthesized.”
“They are?”
“It’s a good lesson on understanding the method of delivery and leads perfectly into the upcoming lessons on synthesized music.”
“Wow. Okay.” I furrowed my brow. “So, you let the students take home two hundred pair of Bose headphones? The professor didn’t do that when I took the class a few years back. The college has certainly upgraded from the crappy headphones they used to give out in music-recording class.”
“They’re mine, personally. Not the college’s.”
I did the math. That was at least five thousand dollars for one lesson. “What if you don’t get them back?”
“It’s never been an issue.”
I smirked. “Because all the students are afraid of you.”
“Unlike the smartass TA,” Caine muttered.
Charlie had his hands full with trays of wings, so he used his ass to push open the door that led from the kitchen. I slipped out of the booth to grab them from him.
“You should have whistled for me like you usually do. You shouldn’t be carrying trays with your back.”
“I didn’t want to interrupt your date.”
“It’s not a date.”
He looked over at Caine and shrugged. “Looks like a date to me.”
“It’s not,” I said flatly. “We’re working on lesson plans for class.”
“Whatever you say,” Charlie trailed off as he headed back to the bar.
I set the trays down at our table and noticed Caine’s beer mug was empty. “Want another beer?”
“If you’re joining me.”
“I don’t drink.”
Caine’s brows furrowed, but then an understanding crossed his face, and I realized what he’d thought.
“I’m not an alcoholic, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Okay.”
I really didn’t want to elaborate, but he was waiting for me to speak again.
“I grew up around alcoholism. At one point, I found myself drinking a little too much when my life was spinning out of control. I didn’t check myself into rehab or anything—I’m not a formal friend of Bill with a lifetime membership card or fancy sobriety chips—but I try to limit my drinking to celebrations and special occasions.”
The reason I didn’t normally elaborate was because people looked at me with sympathy in their eyes when I made such a statement. Oh. She had a bad childhood. Oddly, that wasn’t what I found on Caine’s face. His seemed to have admiration for what I’d just said, and I wasn’t sure what to do with that. It made me uncomfortable.
“So…I’ll grab you another beer, and I’ll have an O’Doul’s to join you.”
He smiled warmly. “Sounds good.”
When I returned to the table, I redirected the conversation back to work. “I was thinking—when it’s time to collect the Bose headphones from the class, I’m not touching Mr. Ludwig’s set. They need to be disinfected first.”
Caine’s beer was at his lips. “He was drawing you today, you know.”
“Drawing me? He was sketching headless women with great bodies.”
He sipped his beer. “And your point?”
“He wasn’t drawing me.”
Caine narrowed his eyes, and I got the feeling he was weighing whether or not to say whatever was on his mind. Apparently, he decided to go for it.
“You have two freckles on the left side of your neck.”
My hand flew to my neck. He was absolutely right, but my hair was covering them. “What are you talking about?”
“You have a tendency to push your hair to one side—the right side. I noticed them the other day when we were in my car.”
“Okay…”
Caine caught my eyes. “The sketches your friend was drawing. They had necks, but no heads.”
“Yes. I noticed them. They weren’t exactly appropriate to be drawing during class. But he’s a really good artist.”
“Yes, he pays attention to detail. All of the women had one thing in common.”
My eyes widened. “No.”
Caine nodded. “Two freckles on the left side of the neck. He was sketching you.”
“But he’s never seen me naked.”
“He has an imagination.” Caine’s eyes dipped down for a glance at my cleavage. They gleamed with wickedness when they returned to meet mine. “Pretty damn good one, I’d say.”
That caused a flutter in my belly that quickly traveled south.
Oh, God.
I tried to shake it off with a joke. “And this is why I don’t date frat boys. Needless to say, I won’t be collecting beanie boy’s headphones or sitting next to him anymore.”
“Good call.” Caine smiled. “Stick to men.”
He was right. Although I was starting to question whether my sticking to men meant getting stuck on one in particular.
Rachel