Page 8 of Prospect Year

Chapter 4

“Well, look who’s here. Aren’t you usually gone before now?” Amber jabbed at Lola as he walked into the kitchen one morning. “What happened, some girl keep you out too late?”

Lola cut a glare to his left toward Amber sitting at the breakfast nook. “Yeah, I’m usually gone. I don’t sleep half the day. Try getting a job and being productive.” He only glanced her direction for an instant, but it was long enough to see her eye roll before reaching the coffee pot.

“I’m trying,” she whispered.

“Speak up if you want to talk to me. I’m not falling for that sweet innocent bull crap.”

He heard her sharp intake of breath before she spoke. “I made breakfast. Will you join me, and we can talk?”

“You want to talk to me?” He whirled back with his filled mug in hand, ducking his head and cutting his eyes up toward her. Talk? She doesn’t talk. She sasses, argues, and snaps.

“Yes.”

“Oh, this should be interesting.” He was at the table in three strides, pulling back the chair in front of the empty plate she had placed there for him. Wasting no time, he began scooping food onto it. “So, talk.”

“You’re really good with math.”

“It’s just numbers.” His tone was flat, and he didn’t look her way as he dug into his food.

“I’m not,” she said.

He laughed. “Not news.”

“I was thinking that maybe you could help me with my math class.”

“Now, why would I do that?” He popped the last bit of bacon in his mouth.

“I could do something in return for you,” she offered.

Whoa. What? He locked eyes with her, his fork midair. Raising his brows, his words came out slowly. “I’m not interested in a fuck buddy.”

“No!” She sucked in a breath, obviously regrouping her thoughts. “No, not that.”

“Then what could you possibly help me with?”

“I lived in a clubhouse for several years. I watched and listened to things before they thought I was old enough to fully understand. You’re prospecting.”

“I can earn my patch myself,” he told Amber.

“How long have you been associated with a club? Any club?” she asked him.

With a sigh, he lifted the mug of coffee to his lips, downing half the contents. This was not worth his time.

“I’m just saying, I’ve met these men. Bikers are hard on prospects. It’s not cheating to get a little insight on something you know very little about,” Amber explained.

“I don’t need your help. I’ve made this on my own, and I’ll patch on my own. Next subject.”

“I’m looking for a part-time job,” she announced.

“Good.” He leaned back in his seat, throwing his hands behind his head and locking his fingers. “Thank you for breakfast.”

“No problem,” she replied softly.

Lola studied her as she began pushing the food around on her plate, taking an occasional bite. Aside from her blatant attitude toward him, she was attractive. Her large brown waves framed her face perfectly, and she always dressed to accentuate her already attention-demanding figure. Fuck buddy may not be such a bad trade. With his schedule it’d be nothing more than a tryst here and there anyway.

Mia appeared, quietly cutting into his thoughts. Her arms crossed and hands tucked underneath. Was she cold? The house didn’t seem cold to him, but the air conditioning was running since it was the beginning of July. That’s one thing he had learned since moving to Louisiana—the weather was mostly warm throughout the year, but the summer months could be extreme.

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