Page 32 of Wicked Scandal

I bite back a smile. “It’s nice to meet you Wilder. I’m Catherine Ann Jenkins, also from Willow Creek, and I have baggage that I’d like to throw in a dumpster and start on fire.”

“Catherine,” he says softly. “I like it. You look like a Catherine.”

I make a gagging sound. “I hate it. I wish my parents would have named me something cool, like Annabelle or Victoria.”

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “Catherine is perfect.”

There’s a beat of silence and each passing second has my heart racing more and more, until I finally break it.

I shoot a thumb over my shoulder. “I just need to check in with Troy, then I’ll be back.”

He nods. “Okay. I’ll be here…Catherine.”

I instantly feel my cheeks flush with heat at the sound of my name coming off his tongue. But I shake my head because it doesn’t sound quite right.

“No?” he says with a smirk. “Okay, how about…” He taps a finger on his chin, looking up as if to think. “Cat.”

I swallow hard thinking about my social media name. Does he know? Is that what this is? It can’t be. There is no way.

I shrug off the thought and giggle over the nickname I really like. Maybe a little too much. “Catherine is fine.”

I move toward the door, pausing to give him one last look before I go out, and he says, “See you soon, Cat.”

I push out of the door with a smile on my face and instantly duck my head. The rain has started to come down again, so as soon as I get inside, I go to the bathroom and put a towel over my head. Then I secure a robe around my waist and go to the couch with my phone in hand.

After a quick video call to Troy, I tell him I’m not feeling well and I’m going to lie in bed and read before going to sleep. Fortunately, our bedroom is one of the few places there are no cameras, the bathroom included. He asks about Wilder at the door and I tell him I must have been in the shower when the bell rang.

Thankfully, he seems to buy the story and is actually sweet when we talk. I know it isn’t real, that he’s just being nice because he’s far away and is worried I will run while he is out of town. It’s one of the reasons I like his work trips.

I have thought about running when he leaves, but I know there is a tracker on my phone and car, and even if I managed to find and disable both of them, I would not put it past him to have hidden one inside my body or something absurd and obsessive like that.

Once the call is ended, I sneak beneath the cameras and take off my robe and the towel on my head. Leaving my phone on the kitchen counter, I go out the back door with a bag of coffee, creamer, donuts, and a huge-ass smile on my face.

Just friends, I remind myself. There is nothing wrong with spending an evening with a friend. It doesn’t matter how old he is, or that he’s my student. We’re both consenting adults who are just hanging out.

I can’t deny the excitement rippling through me. It’s been a very long time since I’ve had a relaxed, normal night with another person that wasn’t my abusive husband. Hell, no night is relaxed or normal with him.

When I get back to the guesthouse, the scent of coffee floods my senses before I’m even inside. “Wilder,” I call out as I close the door behind me. My nostrils flare as I inhale a deep breath. “Did you make coffee?”

His head pokes around the corner from the kitchen, a grin firmly in place. “Sure did.”

I like that he’s making himself comfortable. It eases the awkward tension in a weird sort of way.

I hold up my hand showing him the creamer I brought. “Great minds think alike, but don’t drink that.”

“The coffee?”

I nod. “There’s no saying how long it’s been in there. For your own health and safety, just dump it.”

Wilder pulls the carafe out from under the drip spout and holds it up to his nose. “Smells good.”

I walk into the kitchen and set everything I brought over onto the counter before taking the carafe from him. “All coffee always smells good, but I can guarantee it’s as stale as those open crackers on the counter.”

He looks at the crackers before grabbing them. His eyebrows waggle as he pulls a saltine out of the pack. “These crackers?”

“Don’t do it,” I warn him as he brings it to his mouth, smirking.

Then he pops it in his mouth and his smile immediately shifts to a disgusted look as he chews.

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