Searching for Mine (Searching For #4.5) (7 page)

It was the only holiday structured toward the demise of men.

He muttered under his breath, pulling on his winter jacket. In the middle of the darkest month of the year, society created it for commercial reasons only. They got to jack up the price of flowers, chocolate, and dinner bills in the name of love. A complete breeding ground of discontent for women not getting what they wanted, while the poor bastards they were with scratched their head in confusion.

Another great reason not to have a relationship.

Or maybe he was just in a bad mood because he still hadn’t gotten laid.

Why hadn’t he slept with Tracey? The date had been perfect. Dinner, cocktails, flirting. Her offer to join him wasn’t wrapped up in heavy analysis or layers of meaning. Yet, as he opened his mouth to answer, “Hell, yes!” he told her it wasn’t a good night but he’d call.

His date had ended with him and his hand. Not the image he’d pictured.

Something was wrong with him. Tracey was gorgeous, and had proved to be a good lover in the past. He had a little black book that bulged with numbers and he still wasn’t using it to call anyone. Maybe his overworked mental state was affecting his drive for sex? Usually, he looked at a pair of perfect boobs and was ready to go. Lately, he got lukewarm.

Except when he was around Ella. A woman he was completely not attracted to, yet his body responded to like a switch had been flicked. A woman who barely allowed an inch of naked skin to show. That was plain scary.

He remembered what she looked like when she opened the door. A total mess. Yet, instead of focusing on the cookies in her hair or her misshapen sweater, he’d noticed her lack of glasses and hypnotic eyes. He’d noticed the scent of sugar and candy, and her pretty bare feet with pink toenails. He’d noticed the tumble of luscious dark waves that spilled over her shoulders. He’d noticed the clinging Lycra emphasizing her lean calves.

He was nuts. Around the bend. Loco. All the clichés Ella hated.

He grabbed his gloves and tried not to think of her. Since that night, she’d sent over the extra credit project, and Connor had wondered if it was worth it. It was as bad as he imagined.

Woolf. Brontë. Austen. Not separate, but all together in one big mishmash of readings and a big fat paper due at the end of the semester. She was punishing him, and he knew it. He dipped a toe in the water—another damn cliché—and began perusing
A Room of One’s Own
by Woolf and was stopped cold.

Yep, more feminist fiction. More whining and “poor me, we’re under men’s control and we hate it” philosophy. But damned if he wasn’t going to kick ass on this assignment and graduate. Even if it killed him.

Which it might. From boredom.

The air was brutally cold, warning of the storm about to roll in. Time to get the plow ready. He had a solid list of clients to make some extra money in the winter, but he’d be extra busy the next two months trying to handle the workload. He checked his watch. He was later than normal, especially if he wanted to stop for coffee on the way to Verily College. He headed out the door and heard a shout. Looking toward the driveway, he watched a bunch of boys scramble away from his truck and race down the street, whooping in loud, excited shouts of victory.

Connor ran to his truck, a curse blistering past his lips. Little shits had slashed one of his tires. The right passenger was totally flat, a jagged slice ripped through the rubber.

Hell, no. They weren’t getting away with this.

He took off after them. His long legs made up time from their shorter strides. He caught a flash of red up ahead, then something flew through the air and dropped on the ground. Darting around corners, they picked up the pace, and age finally triumphed. By the time Connor got a few blocks down, they’d disappeared, their voices fading in the sharp, cold air.

Sons of bitches.

He knew it was the gang that had picked on Luke. He’d need to get some security cameras installed or set up a watch. Probably was retaliation for the DS incident. Catching his breath, he walked back, mad at himself for not pushing faster, and noticed a black object on the pavement.

He picked it up and turned it over in his gloved hands.

Glasses. Black rimmed glasses like Harry Potter.

Ah, crap. Was Ella’s son now involved with their gang? He seemed like a good kid, but maybe he’d gone the other route. Join the bullies rather than be picked on. He didn’t blame him. Sometimes, it felt like the easy way out, but no way was he getting away with this. Ella needed to know.

Connor headed back and inspected the damage on the tire. He had a spare, but these suckers were expensive. Pushing away his irritation, he walked next door and rang the bell.

Her face reflected the same irritation he felt. He figured she’d be friendlier after his visit, but in a way, she’d grown even colder. Her dark hair was twisted tightly back in a severe braid. Today she wore baggy tweed trousers, black waterproof boots that looked squishy soft, and a black turtleneck. The only color was her lips, which thankfully were bare from her usual orange garish color. “Hi. Is something wrong? I’m running late.”

Her politeness rubbed his nerves. Even as his professor and next-door neighbor, she treated him with icy politeness. Hadn’t he offered to babysit and help out? Hadn’t he proved he wasn’t a jerk? “I think your son vandalized my car.”

She jerked back. Her mouth made a little O before her brow snapped into a frown. “That’s impossible. Luke would never do anything like that. What happened?”

“My tire was slashed by the gang of boys who likes to hang out around here. I think I saw Luke running away with them.”

She blew out a breath. “Trust me, you’re mistaken. He still doesn’t have many friends, and he’s a good boy. He would never hurt someone or their property.”

He lifted the evidence. “Are these his glasses?”

Ella blinked, then slowly reached out to take them. “Oh, my God. Where did you find these?”

“Scene of the crime. They were running from me and one kid dropped this. Does he wear a red jacket?”

“Yes. But-but this is impossible. Luke doesn’t do things like this, I swear to you. They slashed your tire?”

He nodded. Regret flowed through him. He knew kids did bad things sometimes, it was part of life, but he had a gut feeling Luke could go down a wrong turn. His parents were divorced and he’d moved to a new school. Ella had said his dad wasn’t around a lot. That was a lot of shit to deal with. “He’s probably acting out. Who knows what happened. Do you want me to talk to him?”

She shook her head, dark eyes filled with grief. His heart squeezed in sympathy. “I don’t know. Maybe I should handle it? I’m so sorry about this. I can call the school right now and find out what’s going on.”

“No, don’t. Let him finish out the day and feel guilty. It’s the best punishment for a kid like Luke. If it’s okay, I’d like to offer him a deal to work off the tire.”

“I’ll pay for the damage, Connor. I feel terrible—this has never happened before.”

He shifted his feet. How involved should he get with this? He didn’t want to pretend he knew what she should do, but he knew Luke’s behavior needed a strong hand. “I’m not worried about the tire, Ella. I’ve been through this stuff before. I’m not trying to tell you how to be a mom, but I had issues like this raising my brother. I’d like to tell Luke he needs to pay off the tire by working for me. It shouldn’t be your responsibility, and if you pay for him, he’ll figure he won.”

She tilted her head in interest. “What type of work?”

“I do snow plowing with my truck in the local area. Have a list of clients. I usually shovel out their pathways manually. Luke could do that for me.”

Ella nodded slowly. “Sounds fair.”

“I also have some projects I’m working on in between work and school. Building my brother a shed up in Verily when the snow stops. He can help and I can teach him some stuff.”

Those brown eyes narrowed as she studied him. Once again, the golden swirls around her irises intrigued him, as if trying to tell him there was something deeper about Ella Blake if he only one took the time to look.

Not that he had the time or interest.

“You have a very busy schedule,” she finally said.

“I told you that in class when you agreed to give me extra time for my paper.”

Surprisingly, her lips twitched in a smile. “You did. But I never agreed to more time.”

“Right. That was me being an ass.”

This time, she laughed. “You’re learning.” Curiosity lit her gaze. “You had to raise your younger brother? Did something happen to your parents?”

He always avoided talking about his past. Other than his brother, he wasn’t one to share emotions or delve into painful history. But he found himself telling her anyway. “My mom took off when Nate was about ten. Dad pretty much fell apart in a drunken stupor, so there was no one around. We didn’t have any other family. I just took over.”

Ella stared at him for a long while. “He was Luke’s age? How old were you?”

He shrugged. “Fourteen. I was able to handle it.” He couldn’t help the proud grin that escaped. “Nate’s a genius. He worked for NASA and now he’s employed by a private company working on space travel.”

“He got through college with a scholarship?”

“Half of it.”

“Did loans pay for the other half?”

“Nah, I didn’t want him in debt. I worked a few jobs and saved so he had most of it paid.”

“You worked a few jobs when you were a teenager? And paid for your brother’s college on your own?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah. Honestly, it wasn’t a big deal. I was working steady by sixteen. Dad had the mortgage and main bills paid at least, even though we rarely saw him. I’d never been great in school anyway, and Nate is gifted. He got the brains in the family. It made sense for him to go.”

“I see,” she said softly. Why was she looking at him funny? As if she was seeing him for the first time? “But you’re in college now.”

“I’m going for management. The company I work for won’t promote anyone who doesn’t have a degree.”

“You decided on Verily. That’s a hard school to get in to.”

“They offered me credits for life experience and my current work, so I was able to chop some time off. I got lucky, too. Scored high enough on the college entry exams.”

“Did you go the full four years?”

He wondered at the odd inquisition but kept answering. “Nah, I stuffed four years into two.”

“Other than my class, what’s your GPA?”

“3.9.”

“But your brother is the one with the brains, huh?”

Her gaze stripped away the lies and got to the truth. No wonder she was a good teacher and an awesome mom. No one could hide under a stare like that, whether he wanted to or not. He’d never talked about himself this much before. Hell, the whole evening with Tracey they’d flirted, talked pop culture, and discussed her acting career. Nothing about him. Yet, here he was, spilling his guts while he stood in his neighbor’s doorway.

Suddenly uneasy by everything she seemed to see, he cleared his throat, trying to get back his footing. Another cliché. Why was he noticing every simplified thought when it had never bothered him before?

He gave her a smile and fell back into his usual female mode. “Hope I didn’t ruin your Valentine’s Day. I know it’s an important day to women.”

She shuddered. “I despise Valentine’s Day. I think it was created to completely torture the male species and force women to feel bad about themselves if they’re not in a picture-perfect, sugar-coated, commercially driven relationship.”

He lifted his brow. Who would’ve thought they’d actually agree on one thing? The standard words fell from his lips without thought. “I’m sure there’s a line of men who are waiting to take you out tonight. You’re pretty as a picture. You just have to get out there. My offer to babysit still stands.”

He waited for her to blush or smile, but instead she glared. “That’s the stupidest line I’ve ever heard in my life. We both know there’s no line. I’m not pretty. And you’re using those ridiculous clichés again that I hate. Why do you have to cheapen a genuine conversation with such drivel?”

His mouth fell open. “I was only trying to give you a compliment. Make you feel better about Valentine’s Day.”

“No, you weren’t. You were trying to make yourself feel better by believing inane lines spoken to women actually make them feel good. You were being lazy because God forbid, you take the time to actually find out who someone really is. Your so-called compliments insult both of us. Don’t you ever get real, Connor Dunkle?”

Shock poured through his system. How had this happened? Her son vandalized his car and suddenly she was insulting
him
? He dealt with reality every single damn day. “Hey, I’m the one being attacked for being nice. Ever consider that your adversarial ways are blocking you from getting a date?”

“I’m not looking for a pretty face to date. I’m looking for someone who’s not afraid to get messy and see the pearl buried under the dirty, closed-mouthed oyster. Have you ever done something for a woman without waiting for a pat on the back? Or given a compliment on anything other than her appearance?”

“I respect a woman’s brain. It’s not my fault your entire gender is so obsessed with their appearance, body, and age. Women crave approval and reassurances that they’re beautiful. Don’t get mad at me just because I give you what you really want.”

She shook her head in disgust. “Bull. You don’t bother to dig deeper because you choose not to. You don’t know how to relate to creative women who aren’t afraid to get ugly and tell the truth. It’s easier to see the surface image, isn’t it? Like your date,” she added with a slightly bitter tone.

Temper hit him. How dare she question his intentions? She knew nothing about him. With a low growl, he leaned forward and challenged her back. “Oh, yeah? You think you haven’t judged me by my appearance? By my job or my apartment? I work construction, Ella. I have blistered, raw hands, crazy shifts, and don’t own a suit. I’m thirty-eight years old without a college degree. I don’t live in a fancy house and I’m not a fancy guy. Who’s not being real by saying you never judged me by my appearance?”