That’s rebellious for a family with deep roots in
Savannah. My brother went to Vanderbilt. My sister went to Emory.
When it was my turn to go to college, I chose Oberlin, of all
places. Way up north in Ohio. And I liked it! I liked the winter,
and the people, and the politics. Downright scandalous, right?”
“It sounds very sane to me.” He dug into the
salmon. “So, your family wanted you to be a debutante or
something?”
“No. They wanted me to be a lawyer.”
“Really?”
“My father is a lawyer. My brother is a
lawyer. My sister married a lawyer. I think that would have been my
parents’ second choice—if I wasn’t going to become a lawyer myself,
I could marry one. I did take the LSAT’s, thinking I would apply to
law school. But I decided I wanted to take a little time off. I
think I was stalling, because deep in my heart, I didn’t want to be
a lawyer. So I applied to Teach for America, and they accepted me
and sent me to a school up in Lawrence. I loved it so much, I went
back to college for a Master of Arts in Teaching. And here I
am.”
“Hopefully getting tenure next year.”
“Thanks to you,” she said.
He couldn’t take credit for that. He had the
feeling she’d get tenure regardless, given her dedication. You
didn’t defy your family’s expectations for something that didn’t
mean a lot to you. “You’ll get tenure,” he predicted. “Your little
problem on the beach won’t factor into it at all.”
Her cheeks darkened with a blush. She even
blushed delicately, a shade about three degrees lighter than the
salmon on her plate.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he
apologized.
“I’m not. I mean…” She sighed and lowered
her fork. “I need to ask you something, and it’s going to sound
ridiculous.”
“I’m a lawyer. I’m used to ridiculous
questions.”
She allowed herself a slight smile, then
grew serious. “That song yesterday, in the tavern? Was there
something…I don’t know, odd about it?”
“‘ Heat Wave’?” he guessed,
even though he knew the answer. Of course she was talking about
“Heat Wave.” Maybe she was being torn apart, too.
“It’s an old rock and roll song, right? From
our parents’ era?”
“I think so. It’s definitely old. That
jukebox is old.”
“But it just…I don’t know. It got stuck in
my head. What my students call an ear-worm.”
“Yep.”
“It’s stuck in your head, too?”
He nodded. “It’s a catchy song. And maybe
it’s stuck with us because it’s so appropriate. This hot weather
we’ve been having, you know?”
“Technically, we aren’t in a heat wave.
According to the meteorologist on last night’s weather report, an
official heat wave is three days in a row of above 90-degree
temperatures.”
“Really? I didn’t know that.” He resumed
eating. “I just figured a heat wave is anything that makes me
sweat.” Like a broken air conditioner. Or working out. Or sex.
Whoa. Where did that come from?
“I heard that on a weather report the other
evening. The TV meteorologist said we aren’t having a heat
wave.”
“He’s an idiot,” Caleb said, not bothering
to add that Caleb himself was also an idiot for thinking about sex
while seated across the table from a client. Or at least almost a
client, as he’d identified her to Niall and Heather. Close enough
to being a client that he shouldn’t be thinking about sex in her
presence.
That would be a lot easier if she weren’t so
pretty. If she hadn’t gotten cited for exposing her breasts on a
public beach. If she hadn’t polished her toenails so sweetly. If he
didn’t feel that burning flame in his heart.
He was an ethical professional. He probably
shouldn’t have even agreed to have dinner with Meredith, let alone
contemplate anything X-rated.
Crazy song. Crazy ear-worm.
If he hadn’t heard it, he probably wouldn’t be thinking about
sharing a heat wave with her, getting sweaty with her. Blame the song.
Chapter
Savannah. My brother went to Vanderbilt. My sister went to Emory.
When it was my turn to go to college, I chose Oberlin, of all
places. Way up north in Ohio. And I liked it! I liked the winter,
and the people, and the politics. Downright scandalous, right?”
“It sounds very sane to me.” He dug into the
salmon. “So, your family wanted you to be a debutante or
something?”
“No. They wanted me to be a lawyer.”
“Really?”
“My father is a lawyer. My brother is a
lawyer. My sister married a lawyer. I think that would have been my
parents’ second choice—if I wasn’t going to become a lawyer myself,
I could marry one. I did take the LSAT’s, thinking I would apply to
law school. But I decided I wanted to take a little time off. I
think I was stalling, because deep in my heart, I didn’t want to be
a lawyer. So I applied to Teach for America, and they accepted me
and sent me to a school up in Lawrence. I loved it so much, I went
back to college for a Master of Arts in Teaching. And here I
am.”
“Hopefully getting tenure next year.”
“Thanks to you,” she said.
He couldn’t take credit for that. He had the
feeling she’d get tenure regardless, given her dedication. You
didn’t defy your family’s expectations for something that didn’t
mean a lot to you. “You’ll get tenure,” he predicted. “Your little
problem on the beach won’t factor into it at all.”
Her cheeks darkened with a blush. She even
blushed delicately, a shade about three degrees lighter than the
salmon on her plate.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he
apologized.
“I’m not. I mean…” She sighed and lowered
her fork. “I need to ask you something, and it’s going to sound
ridiculous.”
“I’m a lawyer. I’m used to ridiculous
questions.”
She allowed herself a slight smile, then
grew serious. “That song yesterday, in the tavern? Was there
something…I don’t know, odd about it?”
“‘ Heat Wave’?” he guessed,
even though he knew the answer. Of course she was talking about
“Heat Wave.” Maybe she was being torn apart, too.
“It’s an old rock and roll song, right? From
our parents’ era?”
“I think so. It’s definitely old. That
jukebox is old.”
“But it just…I don’t know. It got stuck in
my head. What my students call an ear-worm.”
“Yep.”
“It’s stuck in your head, too?”
He nodded. “It’s a catchy song. And maybe
it’s stuck with us because it’s so appropriate. This hot weather
we’ve been having, you know?”
“Technically, we aren’t in a heat wave.
According to the meteorologist on last night’s weather report, an
official heat wave is three days in a row of above 90-degree
temperatures.”
“Really? I didn’t know that.” He resumed
eating. “I just figured a heat wave is anything that makes me
sweat.” Like a broken air conditioner. Or working out. Or sex.
Whoa. Where did that come from?
“I heard that on a weather report the other
evening. The TV meteorologist said we aren’t having a heat
wave.”
“He’s an idiot,” Caleb said, not bothering
to add that Caleb himself was also an idiot for thinking about sex
while seated across the table from a client. Or at least almost a
client, as he’d identified her to Niall and Heather. Close enough
to being a client that he shouldn’t be thinking about sex in her
presence.
That would be a lot easier if she weren’t so
pretty. If she hadn’t gotten cited for exposing her breasts on a
public beach. If she hadn’t polished her toenails so sweetly. If he
didn’t feel that burning flame in his heart.
He was an ethical professional. He probably
shouldn’t have even agreed to have dinner with Meredith, let alone
contemplate anything X-rated.
Crazy song. Crazy ear-worm.
If he hadn’t heard it, he probably wouldn’t be thinking about
sharing a heat wave with her, getting sweaty with her. Blame the song.
Chapter
Similar Books
