Page 76 of Wicked Little Secret

Peaches purrs from my bedside table, nosy little face turned toward us. She’s never seen her mother so… frisky.

She’s curious.

And concerned.

But Professor Adler—Theron—does something no other guy has ever thought to do. He sits up slightly and clicks his tongue, patting his hands on his thighs.

My sweet little ginger girl leaps from the bedside table straight into his lap. I sit up too, eyes widening at the sight before me.

Peaches nuzzles Theron, then settles into the crook of his arm.

“Am I in the Twilight Zone?” I ask. “She’s… never done that with a guy before.”

“We’ve come to an understanding.”

He smirks, looking so damn sexy with his floppy dark hair and lean muscles on display, cuddling my cat.

Before I can decide if I’m more endeared than I am disturbed, the lock clacks in the front door. It opens nomore than a second later, and Mom breezes through calling my name.

“Nys baby! Are you home?”

SHIT!

I scramble to get out of bed while Theron’s brow creases in confusion.

“My mom,” I hiss, rushing to throw on clothes.

“She has a key to your apartment?”

“No… yes… she doesn’t usually come by. Make yourself invisible!”

I dive for the door once I’m in sweats and a T-shirt.

Mom’s still hovering in the small space that’s in between my kitchen and the living room. Her round eyes brighten at the sight of me. She smiles and holds up a tote bag full of Tupperware.

“I packed you some meals, Nys,” she says. “Sorry to drop by on short notice. I happened to be in town for once, so I figured I’d make sure my baby girl was good and fed.”

“Oh… wow… thanks. You didn’t have to.” I swallow down my shock, though my breathing’s still irregular. My hair’s a mess and I’m sure I drip with guilt.

Especiallyin the eyes of a mother.

Predictably, Mom stares me down head to toe. “You alright, Nys? You seem startled.”

“Just surprised you came by so… so unannounced,” I choke out. “Remember how you said you’d call first?”

“But I was just stopping by real quick to bring you food?—”

“Mom,” I snap, “I’m an adult. This ismyapartment. I pay for it. Respect my space. You said you’d call first.”

Her plump face dims. My heart almost breaks. She glances around like she’s searching for an excuse, then she spots the men’s tweed jacket hanging off my sofa.

“Who’s that belong to?” she asks.

My blood runs cold. I open and close my mouth, fuzzy on words. “It’s… my… um…”

“Thank you, Miss Oliver, for letting me use your bathroom,” comes Theron’s voice. He appears suddenly from the hall fully dressed and composed. He’s radiating the authoritative, refined energy he usually does in class. The professor who scolds students with a withering look. “I appreciate the last minute accommodation. I’ll be on my way.”

Mom and I gape at him as he strides toward the tweed jacket and shrugs it on.

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