AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What happened?” I asked softly. “Why are you really angry?”
She heaved a sigh, turning her head away as she shifted the basket to her other arm. “It’s my student, Trace. He’s a good kid. Works hard. Straight A’s. Funny as hell.” Her mouth quirked with amusement as if remembering something about him. “I just saw him waiting for his mom again before I headed to rehearsal today. She works, like, two or three jobs to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table.”
I nodded with understanding, glancing at her basket, knowing full well she wasn’t planning to eat all of that herself. “And Trace doesn’t always eat as well as most, I take it.”
When she shook her head, I took a stab in the dark. “Then you hear uppity women complaining about high cholesterol when your boy Trace could use a little high-fat and extra cholesterol in his diet.”
Her gaze came back to mine, a look of sweet understanding on her pretty face. “Yeah.”
She shifted her basket again.
I wanted to take the basket and carry it for her. I wanted to carry all of her weight, including what she carried for her student, Trace. But somehow, I knew I had to tread lightly with her.
There was a reason she had a chip on her shoulder and a shield up against the world. I wasn’t quite sure why I set her off, but I was determined to find a way inside her inner sanctum.
I didn’t want Betty because she’d turned me down or because I liked a challenge. Though that was also true. I wanted her because she was singular. A jagged edge among smooth surfaces. A brighter star among so many dim, distant ones.
She was beautiful, brilliant on stage, and refreshingly different from any woman I’d met. She had zero fucks to give about most things.
Except for the stage. And her students. It made me want her even more.
She was an artwork of contrasts. Her flaming red hair and hard exterior against silky, ivory skin and a sweep of freckles across her nose softened her. She rattled me. And attracted me. Unnervingly so.
I waited for her to check out near the exit. As she carried her bag in one hand, I itched to take it from her again. But I was a little lost on how best to approach a wild thing like Betty Mouton.
Most women would accept the help gratefully, but she wasn’t most women. What if she got offended and accused me of thinking she was incapable of carrying a fucking bag of baked goods and cheese to the car?
See what I mean? Rattled!
“You okay?” Her mouth quirked into a crooked smile when she met me at the door.
“Sure, yeah. Long day.”
She nodded, not seeming to mind that I walked out with her. “I didn’t realize you still had to work after rehearsal. You must be tired.”
Her expression was more tender than usual.
Hands still in my pockets, I slowed my fast pace to match hers as we headed to her car. “I’m used to it.”
She stopped in front of her door, pressing the fob to unlock her silver sedan. After setting the grocery bag in the backseat, she frowned up at me. “That’s not good for you, Bennett.”
Peering at the lit sign of my store behind her, I shrugged. “Like I said, I’m used to it. Anyway, how are the lines coming for Acts Two and Three?”
We’d only rehearsed Act One tonight, but she seemed to have memorized almost the entire first half without looking at the script much. Her dedication pushed me to want to learn my lines even faster.
“Not great, really,” she said. “I’ll study this weekend.” Peter had scheduled weekday-only rehearsals for now, and tomorrow was Friday. “I would work on it tonight,” she added, “but I’ve got some Jane Eyre essays I still haven’t graded and a cheap bottle of wine waiting for me at home.”
“You also have a prettygoodbottle of wine unless you drank it already.”
She scoffed, one arm propped on her open door. “That’s fancy wine, Broussard. No matter how much I love and adore Edward Rochester, I’m not wasting it on him.”
I had the strangest desire to punch out a fictional Victorian lord.
“Well”—she flashed a small smile and slid into the front seat—“thank you for walking me to my car and protecting me from the vast number of criminals in Beauville.”
Again, the need to stop her snarky mouth with my own beat wildly inside my chest. I kept my hands in my pockets and my body parts to myself. For now. “Goodnight, Ms. Mouton. Pleasure to be of service.”
With another flashing smile, she closed the door and started her car. I strolled back toward the store, not done with my close-out checklist for the night, but my gaze followed the little silver car as it took a right onto Evangeline and then another right onto Acadian Trail Road that led out onto into the country where her house was.
