Page 45 of Ruthless Rose

Chapter 26

Jeez.I have no idea how long we’d spent messing around cleaning the car, showering, and reviewing Spanish homework. And I’d lost all sense of time and space and gravity while Micah gave me that orgasm. If my face wasn’t already pink enough from our earlier activities, blood rushes forth again when my parents walk in. If they’d come back just ten minutes earlier … oh my God.

“Hey, Daphne. Whose SUV is that out front?” Dad’s expression is quizzical.

“Micah’s.”

Dad’s brows inch toward his hairline. “Micah?”

Mom pats his arm. “The boy she’s tutoring. Remember? I told you about him.”

His jaw works back and forth. “Huh. I guess I’ve been more distracted lately than I thought.”

I gesture to Micah’s Spanish book and worksheet on the table. “He helped me get the whipped cream off my car, and then we worked on his homework for that dual-level Spanish class I’m in. He’s one of the Spanish II students. I was helping him with irregular preterite tense conjugations.” Because my parents really needed all of that info. I clamp my lips together so I stop babbling before they question me further.

Dad sighs and looks at his phone. “Well, it’s close to ten. You should probably finish up. School night and all.”

I nod quickly. “He was just using the bathroom before taking off.”

As if summoned by my words, Micah strides down the hallway toward us. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Davis. I’m Micah Robertson.”

Mom offers him a smile while Dad grumbles something about Micah looking more like he’s in college.

“It’s nice to meet you, Micah. How’s the tutoring going?” Mom tilts her head to the side, appraising him.

“Well, your daughter is really smart, that’s for sure.”

Dad clears his throat. “But how’s it going? Is it helping you?”

Micah gives me an amused smile, lips twitching before he returns his gaze to my parents. “Daphne says things are coming along really well.”

Oh my God.I don’t miss his emphasis on the word coming, and I almost reach out to smack his arm but figure that would be more of a hint to my parents than anything else.

Mom nods. “Well, that’s great to hear. We’re going to pop some popcorn and watch a movie in the den.” She tugs on Dad’s arm.

He hesitates, eyeing Micah. Dad’s voice is gruff as he addresses him. “Nice to meet you.” He puts his arm around Mom, and they walk into the kitchen together, just out of sight.

Micah picks up his worksheet, tucking it into a folder, then puts that and his book back inside his bag. “Walk outside with me?”

“Yeah, sure.” My parents are no doubt listening in the kitchen, so I don’t say more.

Once we’re outside, I assume we’ll go directly to Micah’s SUV and he’ll take off, but he surprises me by plunking himself down on the porch steps. “So, you said they’re in some sort of therapy?”

I inhale sharply through my nose. “Yeah. They’re okay. They own Davis Bookstore in town.”

“Ah. I know that place. I’ve never been inside, but it seems really nice.”

“Yeah, well, it’s about to go under. It’s mostly money at the root of my parents’ issues. At least, I think so, anyway.”

He presses his lips together and rests his well-muscled forearms on his thighs. “I’m sorry. That sucks—especially if it’s messing with their marriage.”

I let out a depressed sigh. “Yeah. They have distinctly different thoughts on what needs to be done to keep the store, so it’s starting to cause arguments, and—”

“So, that’s why you’re so hell-bent on your studies? It’s a money issue?”

“Partly. I’ve always been a good student, but now the pressure is on. I have to be. I need to earn another scholarship.” I rub my hands nervously on my legs. “And I like to be in control. Most of the time.” I sink my teeth into my lower lip, thinking about how out of control Micah had made me just fifteen minutes ago. I’d been writhing on his lap, completely giving myself over to his ministrations.

With his head turned away from me so I can barely hear him, Micah murmurs, “Well, at least your parents are trying. My parents just ignore each other. It’s kind of like they’re leading separate lives. I don’t even think they like each other anymore.”

“That sucks.” I swallow, wondering again about his family. “Do they ignore you too, Micah?”

“You could say that.” He stands, brushing off the seat of his joggers. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” His shoulders are held rigid, and the muscles in his cheek keep flexing, his jaw tense.

If I had to take a wild guess, I’d say Micah’s home life is not all it’s cracked up to be. And there’s nothing that could keep me away from his football game tomorrow. Because I’m pretty sure he needs someone to be there. Someone who is there for him.

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