Page 1 of Stripping Little Seraphina
Prologue
Seraphina
I pulled up to my driving student Emerson’s house with a knot twisting in my stomach. Emerson sat in the passenger seat beside me, fingers tapping against his thigh, eyes fixed on the worn-out “Driver’s Test Tomorrow!” reminder taped to the binder he was staring at. Today's lesson hadn't gone well at all, and I didn't know how to tell the poor kid that he should probably reschedule his test. He wasn’t ready. In fact, his nerves had taken the wheel and he’d almost hit several cars, turned down a one way going the wrong direction, and didn’t stop at a stop sign. Had it not been for me braking on my side of the car, we would have both been in an injury-heavy accident.
“I don’t think I’m ready,” he said finally, his voice quieter than I’d ever heard it. “I need more time on the road. More practice.”
Surprised, I glanced at him. He was sixteen, lanky, with hazel eyes, which, like his mom’s, missed nothing. But, the way his shoulders hunched in that moment reminded me he was still just a kid trying to carry too much.
“Then we’ll get you more time,” I said without crushing his pride. “I’ll talk to your mothers about it.” I’d met them both andpitied the kid in his situation. They didn’t get along and they didn’t try to shield him from their spats.
He gave a humorless laugh and shook his head. “They won’t do anything, Ms. Sera. They don’t even realize I barely passed my classes this past school year. I needed help, but when the school suggested tutors, Mama shot it down. My other Mom can barely take care of herself most days. She’s never any help. Mama said I was smart enough to figure it out on my own. But I wasn’t. I needed the extra help. And now… this. ” He gestured toward the steering wheel. “She's going to be so disappointed when I fail tomorrow. I wish they would listen to me when I talk.”
My chest ached hearing that. Emerson rarely confided in me, not like this, not so raw. He usually kept things light and silly when he wasn’t behind the wheel. It was silent when it was his time to drive unless he had a question.
“I’ll talk to them anyway,” I promised. I was convinced that Ms. Jonathan would understand where I was coming from. There was even a chance that they qualified for our promotion if they purchased more hours in bulk. She seemed to be the one with the money or financial responsibility of taking care of Emerson. From what I could tell, her schedule was too busy for much more than that.
“Don’t waste your breath,” he muttered. “Mama won’t get it. She never does.”
I pulled into the driveway, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Go on inside. I’ll be right there to chat with her.”
He nodded, grabbed his backpack, and approached the door. I watched until he disappeared inside before climbing out of the car myself, rehearsing what I needed to say. Calm. Rational. For Emerson’s sake.
The second Ms. Jonathan opened the door after I rang, I knew calm wasn’t on the table for her. But damn she wasbeautiful. Handsome even. Her skin was the color of the chai tea that I drank some mornings. Easy on the milk. Tall, she was easily six feet, and her personality was bigger than she was. Full lips, hazel eyes, long dreadlocks that stopped in the middle of her back, and she was muscular, but soft at the same time. The perfect blend of masculine and feminine energy. All woman, however, I could see the strength in her arms, shoulders, and thighs. She held an air of power that I’m not sure she recognized. It was natural and, with her focus being on me, it made me want to drop to my knees in surrender. Would she be kind while bossing me around or would her wicked tongue show its sharpness and cut me where I stood? I blinked twice to pull my mind out of the gutter and focused on her nose. How was that also cute?
“What now?” she snapped, arms crossed. Her anger pulled me out of the lustful haze that I’d fallen into.
I knew my face was beet red, taken back by her approach to me knocking on her door. The nerve!
“I just wanted to talk about Emerson’s driving test,” I started carefully. “He told me he doesn’t feel ready yet. Maybe if he got some more hours on the road?—”
Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, I see. Another excuse to squeeze more money out of me? I’m already paying a fortune for these classes. You think I don’t know your game? You people really are out to scam kids into thinking they aren't ready to pass their tests. He'll show you when he aces it tomorrow.”
I blinked. “What? This isn’t about money. Emerson needs support, Ms. Jonathan. He said he barely scraped by in school this year. He needs more from you than m?—”
“Don’t you dare tell me how to raise my son.” Her voice rose, sharp and cutting. “You’re just upset that he won't be needing you anymore. Trying to dig your claws in any way you can is pathetic.”
Heat climbed my neck. “This isn’t about the school, Ms. Jonathan. It’s about him?—”
She slammed the door before I could finish, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the quiet street. I stood there a moment, fists clenched at my sides, fighting the urge to pound on the door until she listened. But what good would it do? Emerson was right. Ms. Jonathan wouldn’t understand. That worried me the most. Emerson was a good kid and when he was behind the wheel he tried so hard to master everything. Now, I wondered if fear was his problem, crippling him to the point where he couldn't focus on the task.
By the time I got back in my car, the knot in my stomach had hardened into something heavier—anger, helplessness, maybe both. I could only hope she’d come to her senses while I was gone. Emerson needed her to. Or maybe I should try his other mother, Ms. Bell.
This isn't your problem, girlie.
Because today was the start of my two-month escape to Rawhide Ranch, where I could finally breathe, finally focus on me for once. If there was still a problem when I came back, I’d deal with it then. Tonight, I would verify everything I needed was packed and chill out before my early flight in the morning. Well, after dinner at my parents’ house. Until then, I was going to put this far out of my mind.
And if not? Then maybe Emerson would be better off if his mother kept her head buried in the sand until he graduated.
Good riddance.
The clinking of silverware filled the air, a polite chorus layered over the warm scent of roast chicken and rosemary. My motherbeamed at my twin sister Josephina from across the table, her glass of wine lifted like a trophy in celebration of every word my sister spoke.
“And when they offered me the position, I couldn’t believe it,” Josephina said, modest as always, though her cheeks glowed with pride. “It’s not every day the firm hands out partnerships at thirty.”
“Of course they did, darling,” my father chimed in, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. “You’ve always been the ambitious one.” His hair was neatly trimmed, his black glasses portrayed his serious demeanor, and brown eyes scolded me for not living up to the shadow of my sister.
The ambitious one. The shining one. The one who always made sense.
