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  Cynthia brushed her bangs from her eyes. “Unfortunately, I’m avoiding commitments at the moment.”

  “It’s one thing to close the studio on a whim, but targeting my students? What happened to professional courtesy?”

  “Human feelings and behaviors are extremely complex,” Cynthia said. “You should spend time meditating on your anger.”

  “Seems pretty cut and dried to me.”

  The woman cleared her throat. “You’re young,” she said, trying another angle. “So young that you have unrealistic expectations regarding other people’s behavior. You’ve got to let go of those expectations and learn to roll with the punches. If you hold on to every little slight in your life, you’ll accumulate so much disappointment, frustration, resentment and anger. Those burdens will weigh you down.”

  Wylie bit her lip, giving the woman a chance to finish her statement when she wanted to slap her face.

  “I’ve found it’s much easier to stop expecting so much from people. I didn’t plan to close the studio with zero notice, but the landlord refused to give me more time to pay back rent. You understand, don’t you? It’s life and economics. You’ll be so much happier and healthier if you rethink your expectations and learn to go with the flow.”

  “Go with the flow?”

  “Yes! Exactly!” Cynthia nodded, exhaling like Wylie saw her as the voice of reason. “It’s a tough break, but you’ll get over it.” She lowered her voice. “Do you think I want to be out here glad-handing the masses and scrambling to cover my ass?”

  “No, but here you are, and I can see why our lessons stopped before you got to philosophy, ethics and lifestyle. Did you know the credits I completed are a total wash? That I’ll have to start over again? That you stole from me and my peers? That instead of getting a side gig to cover the gaps in your business, you took the easy way out and screwed the rest of us?”

  Cynthia rolled her eyes. “Whine, whine, whine. Please, just listen to yourself. At least I still have my pride.”

  “But not your reputation!”

  Cynthia laughed. “That’s the beauty of social media. You can rebrand your business in thirty seconds. Nobody reads the comments.”

  Wylie exhaled, hoping the lingering customers had heard their exchange and spread the word about Cynthia’s business practices.

  Nolan stood behind her, prepared to offer backup or something like it.

  She looked over her shoulder and saw Price holding up his phone. I don’t need backup. She exhaled and faced her former mentor. “Whatever, Cynthia. You’ll get what’s coming to you. If it doesn’t come from me, it’ll be the next person who you fuck over. I believe in community—and you’re not part of it.”

  The woman laughed. “It’s so cute how you’ve mixed up expectations and dependence. Take it from me. You’re on your own in this life, kid.”

  “I’m a grown-ass adult!” Wylie muttered, holding on to the last of her restraint. Her fingers curled into a fist as she turned to walk away. She wanted to swing like a boxer gone wild in the ring. Her dad’s self-defense lessons at the gym had included throwing punches and he had been her first and only victim. She knew that if she landed a punch, her first two knuckles would skim Cynthia’s chin, the woman’s eyes would go wide and she would recoil from the impact, stumbling backward until she lost her balance and landed in the sand. It would be so much more satisfying. She envisioned the jolt of contact but shook her head. Violence never solves your problems.

  Cynthia’s laughter rode the spring breeze. “Poor little girl’s just starting in the world. She should have read her contract.”

  She turned, losing control. “Oh, Cynthia?”

  “What is it now, kid?”

  “Here’s some customer feedback. Do you know people call you ‘Silicon Cindy’ and take lewd selfies when your back’s turned? They do it because you’re a joke, because you feed off being the center of attention and it’s so annoying and desperate that they don’t even bother respecting you.”

  “Girl fight!” a spectator yelled.

  Wylie shook her head. “Before you start offering me life lessons, follow that hashtag and read the comments. I promise nine out of ten of them are mocking you. You want to get ahead in this town? Try being fucking authentic!”

  Cynthia’s chin shook like she had absorbed a physical blow. “Is that true?”

  Wylie shook her head as the adrenaline wore off. “I don’t believe in violence, but I do believe in fighting back.”

  The instructor bit her lip. “Did that make you feel better?”

  She breathed deep and looked at Price to keep her body from succumbing to the exhaustion of the week. “No, but I’d much rather open your eyes and go viral than let you feel superior about what you did to me.” She locked eyes with Nolan. “You’re better off not hiring me. I’m a vulnerability. I could go off at any minute.”

  He walked up to her and swung an arm over her shoulder. “She had it coming.”

  “Yeah.”

  “But she’ll think twice before she lets it happen again.”

  Wylie closed her eyes. “I won’t give her the chance.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “Do we need to sign you up for anger management classes?”

  “Seriously?” she asked, looking up. “I thought I deserved a medal for not decking her.”

  He kissed her lips. “No, not seriously, but your words were sharp enough to wound. I’m going to think twice before I leave you hanging in bed. I’m not sure my fragile ego could stand it.”

  She laughed and leaned into his weight. “A stronger woman would have walked away.”

  “I doubt it,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “Nobody wants to spend their life as a punching bag.”

  * * * *

  Nolan poured her a glass of juice and stood in the kitchen while she sipped the sweet and familiar nectar. How often had her mother done the same thing and given her space and room to voice her thoughts? This man is not my mother, but he knows how to take care of people. Maybe I should thank his mother for those lessons—or his nannies. Whatever. Scratch that. I never want to meet the woman.

  During the ride home, she had replayed her conversation with Cynthia and struggled to identify the point where she’d lost control of her emotions and chosen to lash out rather than have a calmer resolution. I’m twenty-six, but I still act out like I’m the kid.

  Nolan pulled breakfast from the refrigerator and walked toward the stairs.

  “Hey,” she said, reaching for his arm, “I wanted to say thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For letting me handle it, even if I did a terrible job.”

  He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. “Plenty of people would have started with the punch.”

  “That doesn’t mean it was the right call.”

  He caught her chin in his hand and tilted her face up like she had taken the blow. His eyes scanned her face and he nodded. “Would you do it again?”

  Maybe? It hadn’t solved anything. What would my family say if they found out how I behaved? She shook her head. “It didn’t solve my problems.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her again, his lips tasting of comfort, cardamom and coffee. Then he changed the angle of the kiss and stole her breath, holding her fast as he pushed her to accept the intrusion of his tongue and the honed strength of his body pinning her to the chair. She groaned as her lips parted under his, then blinked in confusion when he released her. “What was that?”

  He stared at her and drew a deep breath. “I think I understand what set you off, but she wasn’t worth your time. You want to burn off some aggression? Come tangle with someone who can handle it.”

  Wylie rose, closing the space between them. “And you can?”

  “Yes.” He lifted her to the countertop and caged her with his arms. When she cocked her head, considering his response, he cupped her breasts and lowered his head to suck her nipples through the fabric of her tank. “I’m beginning to
figure out what makes you tick and how far you’re willing to go.”

  She wanted to rip off her shirt and throw it to the floor, but she grabbed the back of his head and pulled until his eyes met hers. “What if I don’t know the answer to that question?”

  “Then we’ll figure it out together. Right now I need a shower.”

  She nodded, prepared to give him the space he needed.

  He pulled her from the counter. “Don’t get me wrong, Wylie. This thing between us? It might not be clean and it might not be easy, but it’s worth it.”

  “I can handle those conditions.”

  “I had no doubt.”

  They climbed the stairs, as solemn as a procession, and she looked at the bed. I trusted him to tie me up and take care of me. I trusted him enough to know when to hang back. This thing between us… How far will it go?

  He turned on the shower and stripped off his running shorts, as proud and naked as any statue of Adonis.

  Wylie smiled, pulling off her tank and black pants until she and Nolan stood in the steam-filled room, primed and ready to go. “Let me wash you,” she said, attempting to prolong the pleasure she knew would come.

  “That can wait.”

  He reached for her and pulled her close, turning her in his arms until she felt his lips against the nape of her neck. His hands spanned her waist and dipped lower, caging her hips until he shifted her position and brought her flush against his erection.

  “I don’t think I have that kind of patience,” he said.

  The heat and promise of his arousal pressed into her backside and she shifted, eager to turn and accept the challenge. “You have a thing for women behaving badly?”

  She felt the laughter rumbling through his chest and he pressed kisses along her shoulder. “I have a thing for you.”

  “Nolan”—his name escaped with a sigh as she closed her eyes and arched against his chest, thrusting her breasts into his hands as he cupped them, his thumbs circling the tender peaks while his lips cruised her shoulder—“I thought you were an ass man.”

  “I’m broadening my horizons.”

  She closed her eyes, savoring the strength that kept her upright and the pleasure that kept her pinned to him. His kisses teased the limits of her control as he used his teeth to graze her skin.

  “I missed you last night,” he said. “I missed having you in my bed.”

  She smiled. “There’s still time for that.”

  “Not right now.”

  The muscles in her core tightened as he released one breast and grazed the soft skin of her stomach, pausing briefly to tangle in the hair between her thighs before he found her clit and began to stroke, pinning her solidly against him.

  She knew she could break away, spin and reclaim the momentum, but the allure of letting go felt as compelling as the steam and perspiration that held them together. Her body trembled as she succumbed to the pleasure, letting her head fall against his shoulder as he proved just how many ways there were to win.

  Her breath escaped in soft pants as she began to move her hips and match the rhythm of his fingers. Then she hooked an arm around his neck and held on, rocking against his touch as his fingers penetrated and teased her, as rough and possessive as her body could stand. The tension in her built until she fell over the edge, hanging on to him for dear life as she cried out in the steam-soaked room and went limp in his arms.

  “More?”

  The hard length of his cock pressed against the heated flush of her skin. She turned in his arms, reaching up to nip his ear before she whispered her response. “Yes.”

  He picked her up and carried her into the shower, the spray like a soft caress on her sensitized skin. “I want to be inside you.”

  “I want you there. I want to feel you inside me, hips pumping, muscles straining as I try to hang on.”

  “Shit, Wylie,” he swore, pushing her against the tiled wall.

  The longing in his voice felt like honey against her sensitive nerves, more empowering and tasting as sweet as sin. She locked eyes with him, finding his gaze steadier than she felt. “I’m clean, Nolan, and I want you inside me. I want you now.”

  He dropped to his knees and parted her folds, licking her until she squirmed against him. “Wylie, I’m as clean as you are, but are you sure? There are other ways to get this done.”

  She laughed, stroking his hair beneath the spray. “I don’t want to get this done. I want to feel you inside me, Nolan. I want to give every roommate in this house something to talk about. Stop stalling.”

  “Little voyeur.” He laughed and turned her to face the tile, parting her legs as he ran his hand along her spine. “So soft and strong at the same time.”

  Panting, she braced her hands and shifted her hips up, feeling his gaze and wanting more. She looked over her shoulder and waited until he looked up from the sight of her inner folds on display. “You make me feel strong.”

  “You can still change your mind,” he said, gripping his cock and stroking it until her nostrils flared with jealousy. When she shook her head, he closed his eyes for a moment, then grabbed her hip with one hand and slipped inside her, hotter and stronger than anything she could imagine. The first thrust left her breathless and she shuddered as he pulled back and slid deeper, urging her to take and accept him. He found her clit with his free hand and set the pace, pressing her where she needed it the most.

  Each stoke left her wanting more. She felt her release coming and urged him on, thrusting her hips as they found their rhythm. The pressure burst and she cried out his name. He pulled out and hot semen spurted between them. As their bodies came down from the high, he dropped his head to hers and pulled her from the wall. “You okay?”

  She smiled and turned in his arms, pressing her hand against the rapid heartbeat within his chest. “Now we definitely need the soap.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Wylie pointed to the cluster of tents behind the commerce center. Fifty wind-blown domes of polyurethane-coated fabric sat in the shade. Scattered tools and a cluster of bikes destined for a chop shop littered the common ground. “Penny Lane lives somewhere in that community. I don’t have a way to contact her, but I’m guessing close to a hundred people live in those tents and would appreciate hot food.”

  “I’ve seen this encampment through the trees bordering Whittier Boulevard,” Nolan said. “I never imagined it would be this big.”

  Wylie nodded. “Well, now you get to serve the people who inhabit it.”

  He smiled. “I have a feeling you’d bankrupt Modesto within six months if I let you pick the destinations.”

  She grinned from the passenger seat. “Well, at least we’d go down swinging.”

  He parked the food truck near the edge of the loading dock and scanned the curious faces who turned to greet their arrival. A separate squad of men and women in red matching shirts held clipboards and tablets. They stood among the tent residents like looming attendants. “I don’t think we’re the only ones paying a service call to this encampment.”

  Wylie matched the T-shirts with the magnetic plaque stuck to a nearby truck. “It looks like an outreach organization. They’re probably trying to help in any way they can. Good for them.”

  “Do you see the best in everyone?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Don’t you?”

  He leaned across the center console and kissed her. “I do where you’re involved.”

  She blushed and considered the lack of privacy afforded by the expanse of glass fronting the food truck. There’s a quickie, then there’s an exhibition. She cleared her throat. “Are we going to feed them too?”

  Nolan nodded. “Why not? We’re collecting data and customer feedback, aren’t we? But I want you to stay close to the truck when we take breaks. Penny Lane will come find you if she’s here. Esther’s on her way to help, but we’re going to be conspicuous.”

  “Are you scared?”

  He banged on the thick metal of the truck paneling. “No, but I�
��d feel better if we had reinforcements.”

  She laughed. Where’s the threat? “I think you ought to be more concerned about the people inside the truck. It’s chili and rice. I’m pretty sure I can serve it without burning myself or sending your truck up in smoke, but what if I’m wrong?”

  He rolled his eyes and checked the side mirror. “I’d feel better if you stuck to grating the cheese.” She punched him in the arm and he raised his eyebrows. “Ready to go again?”

  Wylie blushed and shook her head as she reached for the door handle. “Let’s get this crowd served and satisfied before you get any more ideas.”

  “Oh, I have plenty of ideas,” he said.

  The food truck’s first patrons strolled toward the truck with the suspicion and hesitancy of feral cats. They milled in small groups, eyeing the truck’s wood paneling until Nolan raised the flap, leaned on the sill and raised his voice to be heard above the roar of nearby traffic. “Menu’s limited, but the price is right. Come on down for free chili, rice and cornbread.”

  “You with the aid group?” the first man asked. He held the line and wore a black sweatshirt. His skin looked like it had weathered more than one type of combat zone.

  “Nope. My crew and I are just here to give out food and see how you like it.”

  The man scratched his head. “What’s not to like about it?”

  Nolan lowered his voice to a conspirator’s whisper. “I dumped a bowl of carrots and zucchini into the chili and let them cook down. I hate to admit this, but it’s good for you. Now, be a good sport and come eat your vegetables.”

  The man wrestled with Nolan’s playful tone then laughed and gestured to his friends to join them. “Man thinks he’s a comedian.”

  Wylie exhaled. Nolan seemed capable of being everything to everyone. Will he be there when I need it? She watched him hand over the first bowls of steaming chili. So far, he’s never let me down.

  Esther parked next to the truck and climbed out, the wind teasing her soft pink hair. “Sorry, I’m late. I had an, ugh, pressing engagement.” She checked her phone and smiled. “Well, in Brazil, we’d consider this on time.”