Love and Learn (Voretti Family Book 2) (5 page)

“Oh yeah?” Ty went from sleepy to alert in the time it took her to blink. “So, you might say that you owe me one?”

Her heart woke back up too, beating fast and hard. “I wouldn’t put it like
that
.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart—I’m not going to ask you to tutor me in calculus or wash my dirty socks.”

“What
do
you want?”

“It’s no big deal. In fact, I wouldn’t even call it a favor. It’s more a friendly gesture. Don’t tell me you can’t handle a simple friendly gesture.”

“I can
handle
anything.” The words jumped out of her mouth before she could stop them.

Ty grinned, the same way he had when he’d talked her into partnering with him for Chemistry lab instead of her straight-A best friend.
I’ve got you now.

It was too late to take the words back.
 

And she was in big trouble. Because she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to.

W
HILE
A
NNABELLE
TOOK
deep breaths, probably searching for a scientific protocol she could use to turn back time and erase what she’d said, Ty leaned back in his chair, savoring his victory.
 

“Are you sure it’s small?” Annabelle said, finally. “Because it doesn’t
look
small, the way you’re all self-satisfied and—” She broke off, turning the most adorable shade of pink. “I’m talking about the favor. Not…you know. Anything else.”

Ty put his facial expression on lockdown, refusing to let that grin emerge. He didn’t want Annabelle to think he was making fun of her. Not after that jackass Christian. “Go with me to Hannigan’s.”

“Hannigan’s? Like, the bar?”

“Bar and grill,” Ty said, though, really,
grill
was stretching it. They did serve food, but only because the regulars liked a little grease to go with their beer. “C’mon. I hate eating by myself.”

“You want me to go with you to Hannigan’s?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Like, a date?”

She spit out the last word like it tasted bad, and the little hairs on the back of Ty’s neck stood at attention.

He swallowed his affirmative reply. Something was going on here, and it wasn’t only that Annabelle was surprised by his sudden appearance. That asshat Christian had alternated between checking out Annabelle’s ass and harassing her. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that they’d hooked up and it had ended badly. Badly enough to sour her on dating in general? “What do you want it to be?”

“I don’t have time to date. I’m finishing up my thesis research. And I have a ton of prep work to do for Human Sexuality.”

The universe was sending him a clear message—everything from Annabelle’s closed-off body language to her words said
back off
—but he had the strangest urge to do the opposite. To convince her that, with him, things would be different than with Christian.

No. It was more important to stay in the universe’s good graces. He’d go with the flow, the way he used to back when everything always turned out the way it should in the end. “Okay. But you still have to eat, right?”

“Eventually.”

“Then you might as well eat with me.”

Her eyebrows shot up. She opened her mouth to object, but he got there faster.

“C’mon. I promise I can eat a burger without making a pass at you. We’ve been friends for seven years. Why should that change just because we’re living in the same city?”

“It shouldn’t, but—”

“Besides. You did say you owed me.”
 

“No I didn’t.
You
said that.”

Ty shrugged. “Details.”

She stared at him for one second. Two. Three.

“Okay,” she said, finally. “But I can only stay for a little while.”
 

Triumph surged through him.
 

This pseudo-date wasn’t exactly what he’d envisioned, but it was a first step. He’d start by being the friend Annabelle needed. And, as she grew to trust him, she’d see they were meant for much more.
 

*

Even thought it was a Tuesday, Hannigan’s was full. Ty put his arm around Annabelle, guiding her through the maze of dark, narrow aisles.

She fit against him like she belonged there. And, again, he felt it. That sense that he was exactly where he was supposed to be. Here, in this hole-in-the-wall bar, taking deep breaths because he couldn’t get enough of the light, floral scent that wafted from her hair every time she moved.

All too soon, they dead-ended into the last unoccupied booth. Annabelle detached herself from his side. Which was fine. He’d decided to take this slow. To start by renewing his friendship with Annabelle.
 

He slid onto the vinyl bench seat across from her, giving her a reassuring smile. “I know it’s crazy in here, but the beer and burgers are worth it.”

“I know.”

“You’ve been here before?”
 

Her eyes went from cool sapphire to stormy indigo. “Why would you assume I hadn’t?”
 

“I don’t know. You didn’t seem like the pub crawl type back when you were measuring out our hydrochloric acid to the tenth of a milliliter back in chem lab.”

“I was eighteen. You took off three years before I could legally enter a bar.”

He shifted, an instinctive attempt to escape the words he heard more clearly than the ones she’d actually spoken.
You don’t know me at all. Not anymore
.

“I know it’s been a while since high school. We’ve both changed, and there’s only so much you can say in a letter. But I’m here and you’re here and I want to make up for lost time.”

“Mmmh,” Annabelle muttered.

He searched for a way to bulldoze through that conversational dead-end, but before he could say a word, a waitress turned their way.

She was wearing a Hannigan’s tank top, but instead of cut-off jean shorts or a miniskirt, she wore a long skirt that was adorned with so much lace, beading, and ruffles it was amazing she could still walk. With her short, uneven haircut and dark makeup, she looked like a goth princess.

She also looked a lot like Annabelle.

Annabelle glanced at the waitress, and her eyes went wide. “Frack!”

“Hey, sis.” The waitress—who had to be Annabelle’s little sister Liv—slid into the booth next to Annabelle, like she was planning to stay for a while. “Wait a minute. Are you drinking
alcohol
? On a
school night
? What will Mom and Dad say?”
 

“That I know how to drink responsibly. Unlike some people.”

“I can’t imagine who you could possibly be talking about. Unless it’s the extremely hot stranger you’re with.” Liv turned to Ty. “Hello, extremely hot stranger. I’m Olivia. And you are?”

She reminded him so much of his little sister Keri that he couldn’t help laughing. “I’m Ty.”

“Ty?” She shook his hand eagerly. “Like,
prom
Ty? Is it true that you—”

“I didn’t know you were working tonight,” Annabelle burst out.

Liv shrugged. “I picked up an extra shift.”

“Great. Perfect.”

“Isn’t that what you keep telling me to do? Buckle down and work harder?”

“Yes, but—”

“Hey!” Liv leveled an accusatory glare at Annabelle. “You told me he was hurt. I was picturing an invalid in a wheelchair, but he looks like he could bench press both of us. And those
abs
. I don’t have the best view with his t-shirt in the way, but I’ll bet—”

“Olivia Marie Voretti!”

“Chill out. All I’m saying is, he looks totally capable of rocking your world tonight.” Liv turned to him. “You
are
going to take her home, right?” Annabelle’s eyes were starting to bug out, but Liv babbled on, cheerfully oblivious. “Because Annabelle seriously needs a good—”

“The only thing I’m doing right now is deciding what I want for dinner,” he broke in, careful not to let any amusement into his voice, because he was pretty sure Annabelle would take him out. “I’m thinking a cheeseburger and that Imperial IPA. What about you, sweetheart?”

Instead of being grateful that he’d cut her sister off, Annabelle transferred her glare his way. “I’ll have a cheeseburger too. And the Latitude 33 strong blonde.”

When Liv showed no sign of getting up, Annabelle said, “That’s all.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing else I can—”

“Positive,” Annabelle bit out from between clenched teeth, and Liv finally got up. She wandered toward the kitchen.

Annabelle looked like she was trying to decide between chugging the closest pitcher of beer or running away to South America.
 

His arms ached to draw her close, but he couldn’t afford to spook her. Not to mention that if he expressed anything approaching sympathy, she’d probably smash him over the head with that pitcher she was eyeing.

Instead, he went with, “You know your beer.”

She shrugged. “My brothers are into microbrews. Matt keeps saying he’s going to open a brewery, but if you ask me it’s only an excuse to get wasted in the name of research.”

“What about you?”

“I’ve never gotten wasted in the name of research.”

“No. I meant, what do you want to do with your life? Once those professors sign off on your thesis and you have your degree. What then?”

“Nothing earth shattering.” She finally stopped scanning the room for escape routes. Her gaze found his, then skittered down. She traced a heart someone had carved into the table with one delicate fingertip.
 

His skin went hot, like she was tracing her name over his bare chest, marking him. Fuck, he wanted her hands on him.

He closed his eyes.
Not what this is about, MacKinnon.

When he opened his eyes, Annabelle was staring at him expectantly.

“Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “Say that last thing again.”

“I’ll find for a job. Maybe a teaching position. Or a research scientist at a company.”

“You don’t sound very excited about it.”

“No one likes job hunting.”

That was true, but the way she was avoiding his gaze told him there was more to the story. More that she had no intention of sharing with him. Which was understandable. This was their first real conversation in seven years. He was going to have to give her time to get comfortable. Now that the universe was back on his side, he could afford to be patient.

But then Liv set down their beers and burgers and he heard himself say, “Want to play a game?”

Annabelle glanced toward the pool table, which had been steadily occupied since they’d arrived. “There’s a line.”

“Not that kind of game.”

She paused before she spoke, like she was having her reply vetted by some internal PR department. “Then what kind of game are you talking about?” She took a delicate bite of her burger.
 

He didn’t want her careful. He wanted her to feel, not think. To trust him enough to let her barriers down. “It’ll help us get to know each other again. It’s called
I Never
, and you—”

“I know how to play.”

“Great. I’ll start. I’ve never gotten naked with someone who has a PhD.”

She pulled her glass closer. “I didn’t say I was playing.”
 

“Come on. You know you want to.”

“Maybe if I was sixteen.”

He tried to picture teenage Annabelle playing drinking games at one of his parties, but the image wouldn’t come into focus. “You never played drinking games when you were sixteen.”

“Exactly. Even then, I had better things to do.”

“I understand. You’re afraid I’m gonna kick your ass.” He took a slow pull of beer. “And you should be. I don’t like to brag, but I’m amazing at this game. I’m pretty much unbeatable, so—”

“I’ve never gotten naked with anyone who has a PhD either. Christian has at least another year before he graduates.”
 

“Christian, huh?” He fought to keep his voice level. He’d figured she’d hooked up with the asshat from section, but the positive confirmation still made his blood boil. He didn’t want to think about her in bed with that tool.
 

Annabelle swallowed hard, like she was trying to get rid of the words she’d spoken, but all she said was, “Aren’t you supposed to drink?”

Ty downed the rest of his beer, but he was still hot and uncomfortable, all the pulsing energy inside him searching for a way out. “I almost feel bad for the guy. Losing someone like you… That’s not something you get over.”

“Thanks.” She looked away. “But he dumped me, not the other way around.”

No. Fucking. Way.

But Annabelle was blinking too fast, the same way Keri did when she was trying to hold back tears, and before Ty had time to think about it, he was on his feet.
 

No one made Annabelle cry. He was going to find Christian and—

“Where are you going?”
 

Her softly voiced question brought him back to the here and now. Christian wasn’t an insurgent bent on destroying America. He was just a guy too stupid to realize what an amazing woman Annabelle was.
 

Ty sank back in his seat, fighting the adrenaline down. “Nowhere.” He wasn’t leaving ever again. “And if that asshat really dumped you, he’s even stupider than I thought.”

“Thanks.” She turned back toward him.
 

Instead of the teary eyes he was afraid of, her face was set. Determined.
 

“My turn,” she said. “I’ve never dumped anyone and left them devastated.”

“Never.” He pointed his beer at her. “Drink.”

She picked up her glass, but didn’t take a sip. “You…”
 

Aw, hell. He should’ve known they’d have to discuss his broken engagement beyond the one-sentence explanation he’d given her over email. “I was dumped too. After the accident…I guess I wasn’t the same man Bri fell in love with.”

“She broke up with you because of a little limp?” Annabelle’s nostrils flared.

“Not the limp so much as…it took me a while to get my head on straight.”

“She should’ve been there for you.”

“Maybe. Or maybe she wasn’t the person I needed.” His gaze caught Annabelle’s. Held.