I suck in a breath, my eyes widening. “What the hell?”
“More?” he asks.
Maybe, my body says. But I rail against that crazy thought.
My hand presses against his chest. I mean to push him back, but the touch is electric and causes me to pause. When I do remember to shove him, it’s anti-climactic because he doesn’t so much as sway.
Big. Strong. Unbelievably good-looking. If there’s a God, he hates me.
“All right,” I say. “You’ve made your point.”
His expression is surly. I think he might smack my ass again, but then the ham starts to smoke, which gets his attention. Thankfully, he moves back to the stove.
I check the mug to be sure I haven’t cracked it. Fortunately, it’s heavy stoneware and can take a little counter-banging. As I fill the mug, I chew the corner of my mouth. I want to start a civilized conversation with Shane to keep us moving in the right direction, but I have no idea what to say to him.
He sets the frying pan on a cool burner and then goes to the table with his plate. I watch him over the rim of my mug.
What is topping the ham on his dish? I’m not sure it’s a good idea to get close to him right now, so I go to the stove instead. There is something caramelized in the small skillet. After a beat, I realize it’s pineapple. I dip my finger in and bring it to my mouth.Oh, my God.It’s brown sugary and seared in something—maybe butter. My feet carry me quickly back to the cupboards containing the dishes.
When I have a full plate of glazed ham, I sit at the table. I don’t speak. My mouth is too busy.
Shane rises, leaving his dish. As he walks away, he says, “When you’re done, clean the kitchen.”
Sure. I’ll start by licking every drop from these plates, I think, dragging my tongue across my lips. To his broad, retreating back, I say defiantly, “If I have time.”
He doesn’t rise to the bait. Such control. Shane could teach a master class in defending his walls. Maybe that’s why he got a dark medieval knight tattooed on his arm.
* * *
On campus,my nerves act up when I think about attending my entrepreneurship class. I’m sure Todd and Daniel will be gunning for me like never before. I’ve had a taste of that in class. In the second week, I’d been speaking and Todd cut me off, claiming I had my facts wrong about big data being more valuable than fossil fuels.
When I looked things up later, I confirmed my facts were correct. But it was too late. He sounded so confident when he challenged me, I’m sure the class believed he was right.
I wonder whether Professor Smith-Hall took my falling silent as a sign of weakness. I wish I’d argued my position harder back then. I will now because I can’t afford to be shown up in class with the internship recommendation letter on the line.
As I approach the door to the lecture hall, I spot Erik Sorensen standing a few feet away. He barely seems human. Cross a lion with a giant stone tower, and you’ve got something akin to Erik Sorensen’s presence. People in the corridor literally stop and stare at him. The shoulder length blonde hair appears wildly uncombed. Like he rampaged across campus all night then decided to stalk over.
When I reach the door, he steps forward and opens it. I glance up at him. He doesn’t speak but does incline his head ever so slightly by way of a greeting.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he follows me into the lecture hall.
My heart thumps wildly.Whatis going on? Did Shane send him?
Partway down the steps, Erik takes my arm into his massive hand and stops my progress. I glance up in time to see him nod toward an aisle. I look down it and spot the guys from my project group. I stiffen.
“Walk,” the Viking giant says.
I don’t move.
“Need me to carry you?”
“What?” My head jerks up to look at him. His face appears unchanged. There’s a scowl, like he’s set to murder someone. I decide he’s serious about carrying me bodily to sit with Todd and Daniel. So, with dread drilling a hole into the pit of my stomach, I head down the aisle.
With every step, my feet feel heavier. By the time I’m a few feet from them, I’m shuffling.
In a low voice, Erik commands the men with one word. “Stand.”
