The baby monitor beeps at my side, letting me know Bailey’s beginning to stir, ready for her early morning feeding. I sit up, wiping the sleep from my eyes and tap on my screen to check the time.
My ribs constrict instantly, the text notification that came through not ten minutes after Tobias pulled away last night still sitting on my screen.
I knew when it beeped it would be him, since the only other person who would call me that late was still here when it came through, and sure enough, a half hour later when I dared to peek, it was his name I found.
I didn’t open it.
I don’t know if it made me more anxious or afraid, but either way, his message sits waiting.
And it’s going to have to wait a little longer.
Climbing from bed, I step into Bailey’s room right as her soft little cry comes.
“Come here, baby girl,” I whisper, lifting her into my arms, grabbing her Binky and blanket and bringing it with me.
She fusses as I prop my arm pillow up against the back cushion of the couch bed and sit. Tucking my comforter high in my lap, I lower Bailey and begin feeding her.
Her eyes come up to mine and I smile down at her, brushing my fingertips over the little bit of dark hair she has.
“Hi, Bae, are you looking at mama?” I run my finger down her nose, and her little hand wobbles up, so I give her mine.
She wraps her fingers around my thumb, grinning around me.
“My strong girl.” A low laugh leaves me as I lower my head to kiss hers. “You’re getting so big.”
Tomorrow she’ll be four months old, and the time has flown by so fast it’s almost terrifying.
She smiles, laughs, and rolls over with ease. Her back is getting stronger by the day, so she’ll be sitting up with a little help in no time.
I hope I’m with her when she does.
Bailey’s eyes roam my face and hair, and then the area around me, but it’s not long before her little grip loosens. She’s falling asleep again, so I lift her to my shoulder, gently patting her back until she’s settled, and slide myself a little lower on the arm pillow.
My eyes slide to my phone once more, a frown taking over.
I pick it up, hovering over the notification.
My lungs fill with a heavy inhale, and as I read what the man had to say, the pit in my stomach deepens.
I think I expected him to cancel on me.
I might have thought he’d question me.
One thing is for sure, though.
I most definitely didn’t anticipate his text would hold an offer, asking if I wanted to have our Sunday session over Zoom so I could stay home with my little, as he called her.
He must have felt compelled to suggest a change in the routine we have going and that’s not fair to him.
So, I politely decline, and only after I hit send do I remember it’s only five in the morning.
Huffing, I let my phone fall beside me.
It’s whatever, there’s nothing I can do about it now, he probably won’t even notice when it was sent by the time he sees it.
A yawn pushes past my lips, so I close my eyes.
My alarm is going to buzz, very quietly, in about fifteen minutes, and after that I’ll have about two hours, if I’m lucky, to get through some of my own coursework before she wakes up ready to play. So, I drop my arm to the bed and close my eyes for the last few minutes of calm I’ll have for the entirety of the day.
Before I’ve had a chance to take a full breath, my phone vibrates in my palm.
Oh my god, I woke him up.
Tobias: why not?
I frown and respond.
Me: I’m so sorry, go back to sleep.
Tobias: cute, Tutor Girl.
Cute? What’s cute.
Ten seconds later, a picture pops up and my eyes pop with it.
Okay, so I didn’t wake the man up.
It’s a quick shot of the camera turned toward him. His shirt’s off, hat’s backward and his tongue is sticking out of his mouth. He’s holding his fist in front of his chest to show the two-mile distance stamp on his watch. It’s dark, nothing but the stadium lights lighting the track behind him.
He’s not trying to be sexy and there isn’t a hint of cockiness to be found. It’s just a playful shot he took on the fly, and I like it.
It’s him.
Happy-go-lucky, confident.
I trace the shape of his jaw, neck, and the deep cuts of his broad shoulder. I follow the muscles of his arm and then move back to the way his lips curve, full and flushed by nature.
I jerk when my phone vibrates again, and Bailey jumps.
Shit.
Tobias: I already made breakfast, ran the bleachers, and I’m coming up on my third mile.
Me: You’re insane.
Tobias: Guess that makes two of us. I’m not the one texting before dawn.
My lips curve into a small grin. Touché. Granted, my alarm isn’t set to go off until five thirty.
Me: You know what they say. The early bird gets the worm.
Tobias: And the hot water, Tutor Girl! That’s gold right there.
My lips pull into a grin.
Tobias: I’m gonna finish my run and later I’m gonna call you to talk about Sunday. Tell me you’ll answer.
Guilt and indecision swell in my throat.
We’ve been around each other plenty of times now, so if he were going to remember me, it would have happened already, and he is only asking for a phone call.
There’s no risk, right?
A little voice in the back of my mind screams wrong, that something about his asking feels intimate, but apparently that voice isn’t loud enough, because I agree, and then I get up and get my day started.
Who knows, maybe he’ll forget.
My boss at the diner called and asked me to swap shifts, and since Bianca came over with breakfast, she convinced me to take the offer so I could get it over with.
I hate leaving when Bailey is awake, but I’m glad I did today. Now I’m free until Monday when the cycle repeats itself all over again. Well, free other than the two-hour window set aside for Tobias on Sunday.
Speaking of …
I pull my phone from my bag, finding several missed calls and texts.
Tobias: That right there is strike number two, Tutor Girl. Careful, the third might just come with some heat.
He follows his message up with a smirk-face emoji and an airy sensation whirls through me.
He’s playful, but I knew that.
The man literally can’t help the flirty way he approaches everything. It’s simply what happens when you’re attractive, athletic, and charming without trying. He couldn’t tone it down if he wanted to. Not that he wants to.
On the walk home, I go back and forth on how to respond, but as I reach my alleyway, I come to a decision.
I’m simply not going to. Message him back, that is.
We’ll meet on Sunday, like normal, and he can ask me about it then. Unless he continues to call.
Last time he thought I was ignoring him, he let my email go unanswered for weeks, fell behind on his work, and only reached out again when his play time was at risk. I don’t think he’ll do that again, but I also don’t know that he’s the type to keep calling.
“There she is.”
I shriek, my hands flying to my chest as I whip my head to the left.
Tobias sits on the open liftgate of his truck bed with a mini ice chest beside him and half empty lime-flavored Jarritos in both hands.
My pulse jumps when he stands, his shoes crunching against the loose gravel with his every step.
“And with her phone in her hand.” He stops directly in front of me.
His grin is crooked, hat’s backward, and eyes a playful blue.
Jesus, he’s handsome.
“Hi, Tutor Girl.”
“Tobias.” My voice comes out thick, and those lips of his curve even higher.
As discreetly as possible, I swallow. “What are you doing here?”
“You told me you’d answer.” He slides a half foot closer. “You didn’t, so I had to break out the big guns and make a call.”
My face falls, dread punching me in the gut, but then Tobias reveals what I didn’t even notice was hidden behind his back … a large Styrofoam cup.
“What is that?”
“It was a giant cup of sweet iced tea from Franny’s, but the ice is all melted and the sugar’s probably settled at the bottom now.”
“You brought me tea?”
“And a pizza, but I ate half of it while I was waiting so …” He shrugs.
A light laugh escapes and his grin deepens.
“Bianca didn’t tell you what time I got off?”
“My nephew was born right before Christmas break, and when I went home, there was a little label above the doorbell warning people not to wake him,” he shares, opening a straw on his jeans with his free hand, and poking it through the slot on the lid. His eyes meet mine. “I didn’t knock in case your little was sleepin’.”
Something thwacks behind my ribs, and I shift on my feet. “That was thoughtful of you.”
“That’s the second time you’ve told me that.”
I’m not sure what to say, so I’m glad when he pushes the cup toward me. “Try it out, Tutor Girl. Tell me if it’s no good no more.”
Reaching for the cup, I wrap my hand around the thick Styrofoam and his is so large, my fingers slightly overlap his. He shows no sign of letting go, so I lean forward, taking a small drink, and then another long, full one.
Tobias chuckles, and I look to him, my palm quickly coming up when a drop of liquid rolls over my lips. “Still to your liking?”
I grin, accepting the cup when he finally does pass it over. “I’m not picky.”
“Good to know.” His smirk is deep.
I shake my head, sneaking a quick look at my front door.
“You need to go in?”
I nod. “Saturdays are my only full day at home, or usually, I should say. Normally I work at night when Bailey goes to bed, but I swapped today.”
“Bailey,” he repeats. “That’s her name?”
My stomach muscles clench and I nod. I don’t know why I told him any of that. It’s not like he cares.
“That’s good you swapped, one less day you’ll try walking home alone after dark.” He flashes his perfect teeth and I can’t help but laugh.
“Do you usually get up as early as you were up today?” I ask what I’ve been wondering.
He nods, unable to hide his grin and I know exactly why.
I just admitted to thinking of him.
“Every day like clockwork. My days are seventeen hours of grinding, Tutor Girl.”
“That’s tiring.”
“So is a baby, I imagine.”
I lick my lips, fighting off the warmth sweeping through me. “Yeah, it is sometimes.” I look to my front door and back to him. “I should go.”
“Yeah, you should,” he agrees, running back to his truck and coming back with what he said, a half-eaten pizza. “For you, Miss Sanders.”
My frown is instant, but I smile through it. “Thank you, Tobias.”
“Anytime, Tutor Girl.”
He climbs into his truck, and as he slowly rolls backward, he leans on his arm out the window.
His blue eyes shine in the sun, and he slips his hat off his head, tossing it in the seat beside him. “See you tomorrow.”
“Two o’clock sharp.”
He grins, shifts into drive, and says, “I’ll be here” and then he takes off.
It’s after he’s gone and I’m digging my keys from my bag that I realize what he said.
Here.
Tomorrow at two o’clock sharp, Tobias Cruz will be here.
My stomach flips and I have a feeling it’s not only nerves.
Not good.
