Educating Sophia (The Moran Family Book 5) Read online

  What’s amusing though is I can say without hesitation that my mom would have loved her despite the fact that being attracted to a college student is wrong on so many levels. She would have admired her spunk, her kindness, her intelligence. Just as I do.

  I get to my feet and move toward the mantel. I wish my mom were here now. If she was, I’d never be able to keep the truth from her. She could always read me like a book; those intense green eyes of hers would look me over and in less than a minute she’d be able to interpret my mood and whether or not I needed to talk.

  We talked a lot, my mother and me. Sometimes it was about the mundane and sometimes the more serious topics took flight. Regardless of what we were discussing, she never judged and always listened with a curious ear, asking questions, offering solutions.

  Pop and I talk, and our relationship could be characterized as very close. But since we’re both men, the in-depth stuff rarely tends to surface. Mostly, we talk about sports or his gardening or the latest happenings with the group of guys he spends time with.

  I hear his feet on the stairs, and a moment later he comes into the room. A wide, happy smile on his face, he moves right up to me and points at the wedding picture. “Look at us, will ya? Now that was a great day.”

  I’ve heard the stories of how they met, courted, and married. I was never curious enough to want to know more. Not until now. Not until I started questioning every damn feeling I’ve ever had.

  “Hey, Pop, can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “How did you know that what you were feeling toward Mom was the real deal? Didn’t you wonder if it was simply a crush or …”

  He grins at me. “Or if I was just hot for her?”

  With a chuckle, I nod. “Yeah, exactly.”

  “Well, Son, I don’t recall there ever being one of those big, a-ha moments.” He scratches his bearded chin and looks directly at the image on the mantel. “I do remember having a conversation with her. Just one of those everyday, normal conversations that couples have. It felt like I was seeing her through different eyes. Suddenly I could look at her and imagine a future. I could see us together years down the road, with little ones at our side.” He sighs and smiles slightly, as if the memory causes him pain. “I looked at her that day and this little voice in my head whispered, ‘Never let go.’” He shrugs, eyeing me with curiosity. “You got yourself someone you can’t let go of, Caleb?”

  I’d love to say no, but I’ve never lied to my father and I’m not about to start now. “That’s a hard question to answer, Pop.”

  He takes it in stride like he does most things, settling on the couch and stretching his legs out in front of him. “Mind telling me why?”

  I shove my hands in my pockets and keep my gaze directed at the pictures. “There is someone I’m attracted to—and don’t want to be, mind you, but I am.”

  My father snickers. “Yeah, those women sure have a way about them.” He clears his throat then asks, “Why don’t you want to be attracted to her?”

  “She’s young. Really young.”

  I can hear the concern in his voice when he asks, “Young, as in she’s one of your students?”

  With a heavy sigh, I turn to face him. “No, she’s my TA.”

  He spends a few long moments absorbing my news, then states, “You could lose your job.”

  “Yeah, Pop. I know.”

  “And she could have consequences as well.”

  “I know that too. Believe me, I’m well aware of how bad this is.”

  He shrugs. “Maybe not. Has anything happened between you?”

  Technically, no. We’ve touched hands a few times, held one another very, very close, and I’ve pressed my erection to the curve of her ass. But have I kissed her, run my hands over her soft skin, or felt the warmth of her pussy … well … then I suppose the answer is no, nothing has happened.

  “Caleb? You drifted off there for a minute.”

  I offer him an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that.”

  “So, are you going to answer me?”

  I chuckle, giving my head a shake to clear the cobwebs. “The answer would be no. Nothing has happened.”

  He chortles loudly. “Well, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Although, I gotta tell you, the look on your face just now said something entirely different.”

  “Pop, what am I supposed to do here? I told her to get herself removed as my TA because I thought it would be easier for us both not being around each other.” I start to pace the length of the room, my shoes smacking on the wood floor. “Her advisor told me in no uncertain terms that it would be impossible to replace her so late in the year.”

  “Huh.”

  I stop pacing long enough to give him a hard look. “Gee, thanks for that. Really appreciate your advice.”

  Laughing, he gets to his feet. “What is it you want me to say? I think it’s a bad idea to get involved with this girl.” He holds up a finger when I start to speak. “However, our hearts don’t always care about what’s right or wrong. If you care about this girl, you will make it work.”

  Care about her? I wonder. I’m attracted to her. I’d like to throw her down on my bed and stay there for a good twenty-four hours, but do I care about her? I simply don’t know. It’s difficult to listen to your heart when all the blood is traveling to other spots and when your brain is busy reminding you how forbidden it all is.

  Finished dwelling on this subject for yet another day, I brush it aside and ask, “So, where do you want to eat?”

  He grins broadly. “We can eat wherever you want. Won’t change the fact that you have feelings for this girl and you don’t know what to do with them.” His eyes twinkle. “I must say this is interesting. I don’t recall anyone throwing you off your game before. Not like this anyway.”

  “What game would that be?” My tone has taken on the harsh, angry one I use with my students … with Sophia. My father, though, isn’t the least bit intimidated by anything I say or do. He can only stand there chuckling at me, rubbing his beard and shaking his head. “What? Spit it out for God’s sake.”

  Holding up both hands defensively, he mumbles, “Let’s eat.” Over his shoulder he glances at me and grins. “I want to meet this girl.”

  I’m not sure why I bothered saying anything in the first place. Good advice or not, I cannot continue to allow this situation with Sophia spin out of control. If she has to remain working for me, then we are going to have to set down some ground rules.

  Thankfully, my father is too fixated on where we’re eating to inquire further about my fucked-up situation. He suggests a funky little place where the locals go and most tourists have yet to discover—a small café which offers outdoor seating and a small but decadent menu. By the time we’re finally settled at our table on the patio, facing the street, he’s moved on to his favorite subject: his beloved New Orleans Saints.

  Born and raised in NOLA, he’s been a lifelong fan, holding season tickets for as long as I can remember. I’m not nearly as passionate about the team or football as he is, but I can certainly hold my own in a sports-related conversation. He’s animated in his discussion, occasionally tearing his eyes off the menu to tell me something he deems as a high priority. If I didn’t admire his passion, I’d laugh. The man loves his football, and he adores his team.

  Averting my gaze out to the sidewalk, I feel my smile fade and that odd feeling of uncertainty settle in my stomach. Her eyes find mine and the hurried pace she’d been keeping grinds to a halt. Glancing at my tablemate, she flushes and lowers her eyes. “Hello, Professor. Enjoying your weekend?”

  Grinding my teeth together, I nod. “Yes, thank you.” I start to bid her goodbye, when Helpful Sally butts in.

  “Well, hello there. I’m Ezra, Caleb’s dad. And you are?” He thrusts his hand across the wrought-iron fencing separating the eatery from the pedestrians, grinning at her like a fool.

  She offers him a sweet smile and her hand, though her ey
es remain cautious. “Hello, Mr. Bonham. I’m Sophia, Professor Bonham’s teaching assistant. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  He pats the hand he’s holding with his other hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.” He glances at the table. “Please, join us.” Both Sophia and I begin to protest, but he waves his hand around dismissively. “Ignore my son. I’d love for you to join us. It would make my day to have a beautiful woman at our table.”

  Her face flushes to an even deeper shade of red and much to my horror, my cock starts to harden. I watch her stammer around, trying to make excuses. The entire time my father is rising out of his seat, gesturing for the waiter to bring another chair. When she eventually settles in a seat between the two of us, I’m convinced I must be going straight to Hell. Today. On an express elevator.

  “Sophia, tell me about yourself.”

  Her eyes dart to mine, then back to my father. “Well, I’m Ca—I mean, Professor Bonham’s teaching assistant, as I already mentioned.”

  He smirks. “I’m sorry.”

  She laughs, easily and happily, and I consider how much I like the sound of it. I watch as she leans close to my father and mock-whispers, “Some days, I am too.”

  They share another laugh, and all I can do is sit there stiffly, trying to figure out how the hell my life went down the shitter so quickly. She’s so damn beautiful when she’s free to react spontaneously and not at all worried and fearful like she is in the office. As she and my father immediately fall into an easy friendship, shutting me out with their easy back and forth conversation, the sense of dread in my gut thickens, expands, and grows.

  What if someone sees us? What if someone walks past, someone who knows she’s a student? What then? I’m not big into making excuses, certainly not those excusing my behavior, but I would have to say something.

  My heart begins to hammer in my chest and my eyes do a cursory glance up and down the street. Suddenly a foot connects with my shin, kicking me hard underneath the table, and my father says casually, “Now, you two, don’t worry if we see someone from your school. I’ll be happy to say that Sophia is my date for the day.”

  Sophia’s eyes widen to that of saucers and the red flush in her cheeks disappears as her face pales. “Uh … maybe I should leave.”

  He takes her hand in his and pats it once more. “You stay right here. It will be nice for the three of us to get to know one another.” His blue eyes land hard on mine. “Don’t you agree, Caleb?” I mutter something unintelligible, which apparently is all he needs. “Excellent. Now, let’s order.”

  The two of them fall back into easy conversation, and all I can do is make an occasional comment and nod once or twice. While we eat, I learn she comes from a large family (three older brothers and one sister) and that her mother was born and raised in Spain. I learn she’s putting herself through college and by the determined set of her jaw when she speaks about it, I get the impression it’s more about proving to herself she can do it, rather than proving anything to her family.

  She talks at length about her siblings and their families, and my father listens with great interest, asking questions and laughing right along with her. It’s clear her family is vitally important to her, as my own is to me. With that knowledge comes a better understanding of the sad, battered woman who sat alone in that auditorium all afternoon. I’d have reacted just the same if the roles were reversed.

  Pop asks her about her classes, her major, and her plans for the future, and this is where I begin to hear a bit of uncertainty in her tone. She has a set path, a plan going forward to get her master’s degree, then plans on finding a teaching job somewhere. I might have assumed it would be back home in Miami, but she insists she’s open to new and different challenges anywhere, including right here in Louisiana.

  The awkwardness between us really settles in when my father heads off to the men’s room a short while later, leaving me alone with this remarkable, strong, and far too enticing young woman. We’ve only seen one another in passing since that night in my office, but it’s clear by the way her breathing accelerates when she’s looking at me that little has changed.

  “Thank you for letting me join you. Your father is very charming.” Her voice is just a bit shaky, alluding to the nerves she tries so hard to keep hidden.

  I nod, folding my hands on the table in front of me. “That he is.”

  Her top teeth gnaw on her bottom lip as she sits perfectly straight in her chair. “What happened to your mother?”

  “She died about ten years ago. Lung cancer.” I offer the explanation with the hope that she’ll stop talking and give me a chance to breathe. All of the oxygen is suddenly being sucked out of the space we share.

  Her reaction is spontaneous as she reaches out and squeezes my hand. “Oh, Caleb, I’m so sorry.”

  I should admonish her for calling me by name, but the warmth and sincerity in her eyes seems to settle my nerves some. “Thank you. I am as well.”

  Her eyes flit away as she says, “I … um … I need to … speak with you … not here … at school … just for a moment … it won’t take long … but …”

  It’s my turn to be the spontaneous one as my hand flies up and my index finger presses against her butter soft lips. “Shh. Slow down.” The blood pumps furiously throughout my body, and my heart beats erratically in my chest. All from a simple finger to the lips. It’s confusing as hell. “I got a letter from your advisor.” Removing my finger from her lips, I can’t resist the urge to stroke her cheek. “The meeting didn’t go well, I take it?”

  Her eyes fall to my mouth. “Um … no … not really.” Her eyes drift closed briefly, and the puff of air that exits her lips settles over me in strange and unexpected ways. I suddenly have a great need to hold her, to protect her, to care for her in a way I haven’t cared for a woman in a long, long time. There’s a fluttering of anticipation in my gut, the promise of the unexpected that reminds me of my childhood, eagerly looking forward to the unknown.

  When she looks at me once more, I’m entranced by the needy, desperate longing I see there. I wonder if she sees the same thing when I look at her.

  The hand at her cheek slides around to grasp her neck, urging her closer. Her lavender scent surrounds me, and her breath dances with mine as our foreheads fall together. I’m well aware that this is neither the time nor the place for something so intimate, but I can’t seem to help myself.

  “Caleb,” she whispers. The sound of my name on her lips is a perfect lyric. “What are we doing?”

  “Hell if I know,” I respond quietly. Our breaths are in tandem, chests rising and falling together, while everything around us falls away.

  “I need to let you go.” Her voice is soft, laced with pain and hunger.

  My fingers tighten on her neck, the words an audible contradiction. “I need to let you go too.”

  Regardless of what’s been spoken, neither of us moves. Her hand grips mine tightly, fear evident in the shaking I feel, in the quickening pace of her breathing. For a brief moment, I allow myself to consider the possibilities. Closing my eyes, I drink her in and imagine us as we should be. Together.

  But then life interjects as it does and the sounds of people talking and cars moving up and down the street pulls me from my trance. Releasing my grip on her neck, I sit upright, sliding my hand out of hers and shaking my head. I can’t look at her anymore. Can’t stand to see the future I’ll never have right in front of me. I sure as hell cannot sit here with her, knowing what I know … that if I could, I’d make her mine.

  “Sorry about that,” Pop says, rejoining us and testing the temperature as his eyes dart from Sophia to me and back again. “I ran into someone I know.” He throws me a hard, dark look then turns his attention to the woman who makes me believe anything is possible. “Now, young lady, where were we?”

  She glances at her watch, face pale and eyes wary. “I’m terribly sorry, but I have somewhere I need to be.” Rising, she loops her purse over her shoulder
. “Mr. Bonham, I so enjoyed our lunch.”

  He stands next to her and smiles. “I did as well. I look forward to seeing you again.”

  She shrugs and I watch her blink repeatedly, hurt lacing through those beautiful mocha eyes. “I do too.” She offers me a half-assed glance. “Thank you for lunch, Professor.”

  “Good day, Miss Moran.”

  The silence that settles over the table is flagrant and even though my father remains mum, it’s clear by the look on his face he’s not happy with me. He manages to keep a lid on his emotions until we’re seated in the car and then sighs and shakes his head. “She’s a sweet girl. She didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

  “Pop, not now.”

  “Yes, now!” he snaps. “I’m not an idiot, Son. I saw exactly what’s going on with you two.” His hand clamps down on my forearm. “Caleb, she’s in love with you. Do you not see that?”

  “It doesn’t matter!” My voice rises to a level of rage, my confusion about her escalating. “She can’t love me. I can’t love her either, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t. So drop it.”

  After a few moments of silence, he says quietly, “I want you to be happy, Son. That girl … she makes you happy.”

  “Don’t you get it? She’s not allowed to make me happy. Not while she attends the college where I teach. Hell, maybe never.” All the uncertainty is making my stomach roll. “Please, can you drop it?”

  He doesn’t answer and maybe that’s for the best. There are no easy answers, no solutions. I want her and I can’t have her. She may or may not love me, but she can’t. What we want is not a consideration. And it never will be.

  The phone rings, startling me and pulling me from the trance I allowed myself to fall into. I should be studying for midterms, but every time I try to read a page from my textbook, my mind drifts back to the weekend.