“It’s a story for another time.”
“I think it’s a story for now.” I tuck my feet a little further underneath me. “After all, you know my sordid past.”
Reid sips his drink and eyes me over the rim. He seems more human, less perfect, and I find myself liking it. Even if I know it’s about another woman, and I’m insanely jealous at the thought, I need this. I’m not the only one with a past full of mistakes and heartache.
“I was dating a woman named Sally,” he says. “She was in the psychology department. Wanted to spend her life working with kids. Very sweet, but sexy.”
I laugh.
“Hey, it’s part of the story. Anyway, Chris Carmichael, the ass, aka the head of the economics department, tells me there’s no way I can keep dating her. She was too hot, too good, too everything for me. And, well, he was right. Spencer Faraday swept her out from under me, took her on some magical trip to Dubai, and the rest is history.”
My heart splits in two. Half is filled with jealousy, the half fueled with animosity aimed at this Spencer prick.
My hand does what it wants and takes his, and I say, “Lucky for me. And lucky for you, I have no desire to head to Dubai.”
“I’ll tell you what, I’m better now because I also run this blog. I happen to love it, even though it’s time consuming and kind of weird. I’ve been known to grill shirtless, ya know?”
“You know it,” I tell him, even though I can tell he’s being partly sarcastic and joking.
“It’s not as sexy as it’s cracked up to be. It’s a bit odd, but it’s me. I like that you’re busy with work and your daughter. You’re not demanding, and you seem to get my eccentricities. So, that’s a long answer to your question. No, I don’t have a lot of women here.”
His fingers entwine with mine. It’s sensual and comforting at the same time.
“Am I currently the only one?” I ask, fishing further.
“Yes, Andonia. The only one.”
He sinks to his knees in front of me and runs his hands up my thighs, snatching my leggings and pulling them down. I left my boots at the door, so within seconds, I’m bare from the waist down.
“My favorite meal,” Reid says as he lowers his head and proceeds to eat me right there.
I kind of like Reid’s house.
A lot.
Morning arrives too soon. I’m naked in Reid’s bed, and he’s not sleeping next to me.
Five seconds later, he appears with a mug of coffee and says my phone has been dinging.
I check and find Gabby is ready for a pickup since Lizzie has church and Sunday school. We hustle to get dressed, and Reid takes me to get my car.
“A walk-of-shame morning pickup is the last thing we need to do,” I tell him, and he laughs. But he doesn’t agree.
Tell Day has officially been postponed.
“We’ll do the same thing next month when we’re off for President’s Day,” I tell Greg.
“Sounds good. I can reserve a small classroom for both sessions.”
“Great. I’m going to be away the Friday before President’s Day, so you’ll have to cover class. Do you mind making a note of that now?”
“Of course not.” He pulls out his iPhone and taps away at the screen.
It’s the Friday after Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and I’m having my weekly roundup with Greg. He held a review session on Tuesday for students who wanted it since we missed class on Monday when school was out. I took the day to evaluate my graduate students’ work and prepare a few posts for the blog—post-skiing outdoor feast, and the best beard oils for chapped skin. I’d hoped to spend some time with Andi, but Gabby didn’t have school. Andi mentioned something about “mom guilt,” feeling like she had to spend the day with her daughter.
“Big weekend plans?” Greg asks, jolting me out of my thoughts.
“Not really. Andi has to take Gabby to two birthday parties on Saturday. I’m hoping to catch a movie with her on Sunday if her neighbor will babysit. I’m going to ask.”
