of the arrangement. I don’t like feeling beholden.”
He didn’t like the way she viewed their relationship, but had no intention of refusing a gift horse or, in this case, annoyingly independent warrior woman. “I can accommodate those terms. Friends with benefits— after you move out. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” A wash of color cascaded across her face. “You’ve been so great to me, Joe. Thanks…thanks for everything.”
He filled in all the crap she didn’t voice. Thanks for being my fuck buddy, my cock-in-the-hole, my dumb-prick stud . “Glad to be of service.”
She couldn’t quite suppress the slight wince his words engineered, and that gave him a great measure of satisfaction. “Bye then.”
Joe drove to the parking lot when she disappeared into the building, then made his way to the admissions office.
Poor Susie had no clue. She had given him his ace in the hole.
Chapter Four
Susie’s stomach was eating itself by the time she made it to the cafeteria well after two thirty that afternoon. She scanned the near-empty cavernous room and spied Charlene and her husband, Grant, sitting in the farthest corner.
Charlene waved.
Tucking the folders she’d collected from the tutoring session under one arm and adjusting the bags from her mini shopping spree, Susie ambled over to the table.
“Don’t tell me you’re only now grabbing lunch.” Charlene pulled out a chair. “Drop your stuff here and get what you can. They’re emptying all the trays.”
“Thanks.” Susie stacked the files and bags on the table and dashed over to the buffet line. Sure enough, most of the hot food was gone. All she managed to scrimmage was a bowl of lumpy baked potato soup and three packets of crackers.
Carrying her tray, Susie headed over to Charlene and Grant’s table, and settled in the lone unoccupied chair.
“Where’ve you been, stranger? We had a barbecue yesterday. I called to invite you but got voice mail.” Charlene’s contagious smile, ever eternal optimism, and Vegas showgirl figure masked a deep-seated raptor personality. Add a Mensa IQ to the mix and the total combo never failed to set Susie’s teeth on edge after five minutes in the other woman’s company.
“Long story and I have a thesis meeting with Dr. Surgue in half an hour. But I’m so glad I ran into you two. If that basement apartment is still available, I’m definitely interested.” Thank the Lord the rental apartment came with a separate entrance. But how in heck would she avoid socializing with Charlene and her cloying husband until she graduated?
Charlene and Grant exchanged a quick glance. “Oh, bummer. We rented it out a week ago. One of the reasons we threw the barbecue on Sunday was to introduce our new tenant to everyone. He’s from the UK and doesn’t know many people in the US.”
Damn the universe. She could’ve afforded the five hundred dollars rent for the basement apartment. Susie gnashed her teeth, flashed the falsest smile in the galaxy, and said, “I guess that’s what happens when you drop the baton.”
“You were a majorette?”
She gripped the fricking spoon so hard her fingertips burned. Miss Magnolia and Mint Juleps couldn’t imagine Susie in a band? Screw her for being on the mark. “No. Relay for the track team. Batons don’t only belong to drum majorettes.”
“No offense meant, sweetie. We southern women tend to lump batons, marching bands, parades, and homecoming games all into one category. Course we’ve all heard about your amazing sprinting skills. Why, Grant says you could outrun him in a heartbeat. And that takes some doing since he was the Ruffians’ wide receiver.” Charlene flashed her picture-perfect snowy smile and reached over to brush Susie’s shoulder.
She barely refrained from flinching. Susie bared another toothed grimace and tried for a rapid subject change, hoping to prevent Charlene from recounting, yet again, a blow-by-blow of Grant catching the winning pass for the
He didn’t like the way she viewed their relationship, but had no intention of refusing a gift horse or, in this case, annoyingly independent warrior woman. “I can accommodate those terms. Friends with benefits— after you move out. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” A wash of color cascaded across her face. “You’ve been so great to me, Joe. Thanks…thanks for everything.”
He filled in all the crap she didn’t voice. Thanks for being my fuck buddy, my cock-in-the-hole, my dumb-prick stud . “Glad to be of service.”
She couldn’t quite suppress the slight wince his words engineered, and that gave him a great measure of satisfaction. “Bye then.”
Joe drove to the parking lot when she disappeared into the building, then made his way to the admissions office.
Poor Susie had no clue. She had given him his ace in the hole.
Chapter Four
Susie’s stomach was eating itself by the time she made it to the cafeteria well after two thirty that afternoon. She scanned the near-empty cavernous room and spied Charlene and her husband, Grant, sitting in the farthest corner.
Charlene waved.
Tucking the folders she’d collected from the tutoring session under one arm and adjusting the bags from her mini shopping spree, Susie ambled over to the table.
“Don’t tell me you’re only now grabbing lunch.” Charlene pulled out a chair. “Drop your stuff here and get what you can. They’re emptying all the trays.”
“Thanks.” Susie stacked the files and bags on the table and dashed over to the buffet line. Sure enough, most of the hot food was gone. All she managed to scrimmage was a bowl of lumpy baked potato soup and three packets of crackers.
Carrying her tray, Susie headed over to Charlene and Grant’s table, and settled in the lone unoccupied chair.
“Where’ve you been, stranger? We had a barbecue yesterday. I called to invite you but got voice mail.” Charlene’s contagious smile, ever eternal optimism, and Vegas showgirl figure masked a deep-seated raptor personality. Add a Mensa IQ to the mix and the total combo never failed to set Susie’s teeth on edge after five minutes in the other woman’s company.
“Long story and I have a thesis meeting with Dr. Surgue in half an hour. But I’m so glad I ran into you two. If that basement apartment is still available, I’m definitely interested.” Thank the Lord the rental apartment came with a separate entrance. But how in heck would she avoid socializing with Charlene and her cloying husband until she graduated?
Charlene and Grant exchanged a quick glance. “Oh, bummer. We rented it out a week ago. One of the reasons we threw the barbecue on Sunday was to introduce our new tenant to everyone. He’s from the UK and doesn’t know many people in the US.”
Damn the universe. She could’ve afforded the five hundred dollars rent for the basement apartment. Susie gnashed her teeth, flashed the falsest smile in the galaxy, and said, “I guess that’s what happens when you drop the baton.”
“You were a majorette?”
She gripped the fricking spoon so hard her fingertips burned. Miss Magnolia and Mint Juleps couldn’t imagine Susie in a band? Screw her for being on the mark. “No. Relay for the track team. Batons don’t only belong to drum majorettes.”
“No offense meant, sweetie. We southern women tend to lump batons, marching bands, parades, and homecoming games all into one category. Course we’ve all heard about your amazing sprinting skills. Why, Grant says you could outrun him in a heartbeat. And that takes some doing since he was the Ruffians’ wide receiver.” Charlene flashed her picture-perfect snowy smile and reached over to brush Susie’s shoulder.
She barely refrained from flinching. Susie bared another toothed grimace and tried for a rapid subject change, hoping to prevent Charlene from recounting, yet again, a blow-by-blow of Grant catching the winning pass for the
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