CHAPTER EIGHT
AFTER THE SHORT drive to the café, Derek took a seat in the far back corner and waited for Professor—no, Jordan to grab their coffees.
He took the moment by himself to watch the man at the counter talking animatedly with the barista, who was giving Jordan a sunny smile as he pointed to two pastries and then tapped his chin, as if thinking about what drink to order. He’s my complete opposite, Derek thought as he continued to observe the guy, and once Jordan was handed their drinks, he tucked two paper bags under his arm and made his way through the practically empty tables to where Derek sat.
When he arrived and lowered down to place the drinks and food on the table, Jordan sighed. “Geez, Derek. Be sure to pick the farthest table next time.”
Derek shrugged, taking the grande coffee as Jordan slipped into the seat opposite him. “Sorry. I didn’t really want to have this conversation with anyone else listening.”
When understanding dawned in Jordan’s eyes, he asked, “Is this to do with your father?”
Derek gave a grim nod. “I see you’ve heard about the infamous Bud Pearson.”
“I haven’t heard much. But I’m a smart guy. I can put two and two together.”
“Yeah, I’ve read how smart you are. A real brainiac or something.”
Jordan winked as he raised his coffee cup to his lips and said, “Or something. I see you’ve been doing your homework.”
Derek studied the man eyeing him from across the table. “Well, I am in school, professor.”
Jordan scoffed. “Really? You’re calling me professor? You just told me in my car you want to—”
“Fuck you? I know. I also told you that I wouldn’t because it’s too complicated.”
“Don’t be glib.”
“Who’s being glib? I’m dead serious. While it would be”—Derek ran his eyes over Jordan as he eyed him with a piqued expression that made his balls tighten—“an experience I’d never forget, I just have too much going on.”
Jordan leaned across the table, and Derek’s cock throbbed when he narrowed his eyes on him. “Trying to shock me? It won’t work. How about you stick to the real reason you called me. Not the fact that you can’t stop thinking about how much you want me to teach you a really solid lesson on—”
“My knees?” Derek offered, and watched Jordan’s lips curl into a grin.
“I’m not going to bite, Derek.”
Derek flashed his teeth in a wicked grin. “Can I?”
“Lord save me from the bad boys,” Jordan said as he aimed his eyes to the ceiling.
“Is that what you think I am? A bad boy?”
“Have you seen you?”
Derek looked down at himself: jeans with a couple of holes in the legs, a white T-shirt, and his boots. Pretty standard for him, and boring compared to the guy seated opposite him. “What about me?”
Jordan reached for one of the paper bags on the table and shook his head. “You really don’t see it?”
“No?”
“The muscles, the tattoos, the nail polish. That attitude.”
“I don’t have an attitude.”
“Ha!” Jordan’s eyes widened, and then he tore open the brown paper bag. “You, my friend, are full of attitude.”
Derek frowned as Jordan pulled out a gooey-looking bar of—
“What is that?”
The grin that flashed across Jordan’s lips was wicked. Then he swiped his finger through the sticky amber and brought it to his mouth to suck it clean before letting out a dramatic moan. “A salted caramel bar. It’s delicious.”
No shit, Derek thought as he watched Jordan repeat the move. But he wasn’t thinking about the caramel bar. No sir. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man now reaching for his coffee as if he hadn’t just fellated his finger. After Jordan took a sip of his drink, he glanced over at Derek to see why he wasn’t talking. He cleared his throat and tried to remember that they weren’t here on a date.
“I’ll take your word for it. I don’t really like caramel.”
“Wait,” Jordan said, raising a hand, palm up. “You don’t like caramel?”
Derek sat back, crossed his arms over his chest, and gave a shrug. “No, not really. Sweets in general, actually.”
“Oh my God. What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing. I just don’t like them.”
Jordan looked him over. “Is it because of your workouts? You’re worried about putting on 0.001 percent of body fat? Because I have to tell you, one measly little bar won’t do it. And I’m sure your metabolism is off the charts anyway.”
Derek looked at the sticky bar sitting in front of Jordan and screwed his nose up in distaste. “Nah, that’s not it. It’s too rich or something. Maybe because I didn’t really grow up eating sweets? I don’t know. It just doesn’t appeal to me.”
Jordan slumped back in his chair and shook his head as he licked his fingers clean. “I’m horrified. Give me a minute.”
“Take all the time you need. I’ve got nowhere to go.”
Although Derek meant his words in an offhand way, the reality of them was so close to the truth that it automatically pulled him from his easygoing mood and propelled him right into a shit one. Something he didn’t hide well, apparently.
“Derek?” Jordan sounded wary as he reached across the table to touch Derek’s fingers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” He trailed off as their eyes met, and as the warmth of Jordan’s touch seeped into him, Derek stared over at the wide brown eyes looking back at him. “What happened with your dad?”
If he was going to do this, he needed some distance. So Derek slid his hand away and picked up his coffee. He took a sip and then flicked a brief look at the man now waiting for him.
“Nothing,” he said, and watched Jordan’s eyes rove over his face, as if he were trying to work out the underlying meaning to the word.
“What do you mean, nothing?”
“I’m not sure how much you know about my family…” He let his words hang between them, wondering how much of this festering wound he’d have to expose.
“Like I said earlier, I don’t know much, but I heard your father is…” Jordan hesitated, and that made Derek scoff.
“A drunk, homophobic prick?” he supplied.
“Well…”
“It’s okay. That’s putting it mildly. He’s a fucking monster. For most my life he conducted our conversations with his fists and had no problem telling his faggot son repeatedly that he disgusted him. Trust me when I say that nothing you call him is worse than what I’ve already thought.”
Jordan looked stunned by his words, but when the surprise melted away and was replaced by compassion, Derek got up and started pacing to rid himself of the adrenaline and fear that came from talking about the fucker. It was as if thinking about him, or mentioning him, would somehow conjure his father right there with them.
“Derek, it’s okay. There’s no rush.” Jordan paused as if weighing his next words, then asked, “What happened?”
“He didn’t hit me for a change, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Does he usually?”
“Only when he’s been drinking.”
“And how often’s that?”
“Every hour or so.”
Derek thought he heard “fuck,” but he’d walked a little ways away before rounding back to head for Jordan.
“Okay. So what happened?”
Derek drew in a shaky breath and slid into the seat he’d previously vacated. “He kicked me out.”
To Jordan’s credit, he didn’t look shocked or horrified. This was actually the most serious Derek had ever seen the other man, and it was appreciated.
“Because you’re gay?”
“No. I mean, he always let me know how disgusting that was to him, but that wasn’t the reason he told me to go.”
“Then what was?”
“Money. The asshole wanted me to give him my paychecks. Man has some nerve asking me for anything after what he’s done to me. What he did to my mother…and family.” His voice cracked, and he swallowed the best he could around the lump caught in his throat.
Fuck, it all sounded so much worse when he said it out loud, and judging by the concerned expression on Jordan’s face, he agreed with that assessment one hundred percent.
* * *
JORDAN SWORE HE could hear every single sound in the coffee shop in stereo at that moment: the grinder of the beans, the steamer for the foam, and the two baristas gossiping behind the counter as the night slowly settled in.
Meanwhile, he was trying to decipher exactly what Derek was telling him.
Had he moved out? Was he living with his friend Daniel? Seemed like a possible solution, but just as Jordan was about to ask, Derek spoke.
“I’ve been staying at this piece-of-shit motel for the last week.” He paused and then scowled, clearly annoyed. “But last night there was an argument that got heated, and fuck…I don’t know. It’s a shithole. Who the hell knows what goes on there. When you’re paying by the night, no one asks any questions.”
Jordan tried to keep any judgment off his face, but he’d never been particularly good at subterfuge, and the outrage he was currently feeling knowing that Derek had been sleeping at some seedy motel was difficult to contain. The only thing that kept him from demanding why was the sheer frustration that was pouring off Derek in waves. The guy was struggling to keep a hold on his temper, and he looked one word away from detonation.
Jordan thought about his next words carefully as he wondered what it would take to ease Derek right now. To help him relax back to the cocky badass he’d walked into the café with.
“So…where are you planning to stay tonight?”
Derek shrugged and picked his coffee up to take another sip. “Same place, I guess, until I can figure out an apartment or something.”
“Derek,” Jordan said, then swallowed his immediate impulse to offer up one of his spare rooms. “What about Daniel? I know the two of you are close.”
Derek shook his head. “No. I won’t do that to his mom. Mrs. Finley, she’s been through enough raising two kids on her own. She doesn’t need a third. Not to mention the added worry of my father turning up and causing shit.”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t see it that way.”
“Yeah, but I would,” Derek said softly. “I can’t do that to her. I love that family like it’s my own. I wish it was.”
Jordan’s heart ached at the longing he heard in Derek’s voice, and he had a sudden thought of his own family. He really should give his mother a call. It’d been a few weeks, and he knew she’d love to hear from him.
As he fiddled with the sleeve of his coffee cup, Jordan knew what he was about to do next was unwise. It was likely the dumbest idea he’d had to date, and really, he didn’t do dumb. But there was no way he was going to let Derek leave this café to go back to some motel full of God only knew what.
“What if you come and stay with me?”
The words sounded odd, even to his own ears as they fell off his tongue. But Derek’s stunned look of what the fuck made them feel even more out of place.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Why can’t I?” Jordan shot back, even as the voice in his head was telling him this was a bad idea. But he was already in it now. If he backed out he’d look like he was worried, or worse, thinking this would be some kind of illicit setup where he moved a sexy student into his rich penthouse to fuck—
“Well, for starters,” Derek said, breaking Jordan from his completely inappropriate thoughts, “I’m pretty positive you don’t like me too much.”
“That’s not true.”
Derek’s eyebrows winged up until they practically hit his hairline. Okay, so they’d had a few run-ins as professor and student, but that didn’t mean Jordan disliked him. “It’s not my job to make you think that I like you or that we’re friends, Derek. It’s my job to teach you.”
An unreadable spark lit Derek’s blue eyes, then he sat up in his chair as if he found it difficult to sit still.
“Wouldn’t you get in trouble?” he asked. “You know, if someone found out?”
Yes. “Maybe. But I can’t let you sleep in some flea-infested motel. What kind of person would I be if I saw someone in trouble and didn’t help them? It’s not like it would be permanent. And I’m not your teacher anymore, so there’s no conflict of interest with your grades.”
Derek chewed on his upper lip and his eyes narrowed. “I’m not some kind of charity case, you know.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Jordan blew out an exasperated breath. Patience was never one of his strong suits. “This isn’t charity. Trust me, I contribute to plenty of those and know the difference. This isn’t pity either. It isn’t anything other than me offering you a spare room and bed to sleep in. My place is—” He stopped himself from saying enormous. “I have a couple of spare rooms. You can take one until you can apply for, and move into, an apartment. Much better than wasting your money on some place that isn’t safe.”
“So, you’re doing this because you’re worried about my safety? I thought you said I was a badass.”
“The only person you’re going to require safety from in the next few seconds is me if you don’t stop acting like such a shit.”
Derek finally relaxed and chuckled, the sound breaking the tension for the first time since the conversation had taken a turn toward the serious.
“You keep implying that you could take me on and win. But I gotta say, Devaney, I’m not buying it.”
Jordan finished his coffee then placed his cup on the table, silently sizing Derek up. The guy may have him beat in size, but when it came to confidence, Jordan didn’t doubt himself for one second.
He got to his feet and took a step forward so he was standing beside the table and Derek, who was smirking up at him.
“First, don’t call me Devaney. My name is Jordan, unless you see me in school, where it will always be Professor Devaney.” His reprimand was meant to come out professional and keep the two of them on the same page after this odd conversation. But Derek’s eyes darkened and Jordan’s breath caught at the desire swirling in them.
Oh shit, he likes it when I get on him like this, and fuck if that didn’t keep his mouth from delivering words he knew that he shouldn’t.
“Second. If I ever decided to take you on in any capacity, you can rest assured by the end of it you would be the one to surrender. Not the other way around. Now, if you’re interested in the offer, I’ll show you my place.”
When Derek pushed his chair back and unfolded himself from the chair, the wooden scrape of the legs on the floor was the only sound Jordan could hear over the thumping of his heart.
God, the guy was overwhelming, but Jordan would be damned if he moved back.
“Duly noted, Jordan. And yes, I’m interested.” Derek’s voice was raspy, and Jordan knew exactly where his mind had gone because, damn it, despite his good intentions, his had gone there too. He wasn’t sure if he should stress that this was just a living arrangement, but then he remembered their previous conversation in the car and figured it was pretty clear on both their sides that they definitely were not interested in something as complicated as fucking each other would be.
So with that in mind, Jordan backed up and picked up the paper bag that held Derek’s uneaten salted caramel bar.
“Good. Then let’s go. On the way over, you can explain to me again why you don’t eat sweets, because that is just plain wrong.”