My heart hiccups at his use of my name. It’s the first time he’s said it where it doesn’t feel like he’s uncomfortable with it. It feels almost reverent, and I close my eyes. What the hell is this man doing to me?
My stomach bottoms out. Drew made me feel this way our first few weeks together as well. He made me feel special, like I was someone hecouldn’t get enough of. It’s why I didn’t understand when he pulled back and started to cancel on me without reason. It’s why I held on so much longer than I should have. I kept hoping things would go back to the way they were, the way that made me feel like this.
Somewhere I find the strength to push Ash away. He resists for only a moment before he lets me put some space between us. I force a smile onto my face so I don’t offend him. I’m sure he’s not used to women pushing him away, and I have to do this carefully so I don’t risk our working relationship, such as it is.
It was a mistake for me to come tonight, to create a situation where Ash and I might cross a boundary.
“I need to get home,” I say. “You should go back in and have fun with the guys. I appreciate you letting me tag along.”
He looks like he wants to argue, like it’s taking everything in him not to glue his mouth to mine again, but he finally pulls back. I saw an entire war waged behind his eyes in those few seconds, and I’m grateful that his sense of reason won the fight.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he says.
He can’t possibly.Idon’t even know what I’m thinking.
“You’re thinking I only kissed you because I’m drunk.”
Oh, that. Well, yes.
“Maybe I am a little drunk,” he says, “But I know what I’m doing.”
I force a smile onto my face. “And it was nice, but it’s time for you to go back inside.”
His lips purse together, and I assume it’s to keep him from arguing. Finally, he nods and steps back. I open my door and get inside.
Ash doesn’t turn and leave until I’m safely in my car with the engine started. Only then does he give me another nod and head back toward the entrance to the casino.
I breathe a heavy sigh as I watch him go and put the car in gear, but I stop when I see there’s something on my windshield. I put the car back in park, get out, and grab the piece of paper from under my wiper blade.I hate when people leave advertising flyers on my car.
I catch what looks like handwriting on the paper, but that’s the new thing nowadays, mass-printed postcards and flyers that look like they’re handwritten. I crumple the paper up and throw it in the little bin I leave in the footwell of my back seat for garbage. I’m not in the mood tonight.
There’s only one person trying to sell me something I really want to buy, and that’s Ash.
Chapter 14
Gray
The undergrad sitting across from me Monday morning scrunches his face in confusion. I’ve been explaining statistical p-values and confidence intervals to him for the last five minutes, and he’s still not getting it.
The Communication program at this university is a quantitative one, which means stats are part of the curriculum. Unfortunately, not all the students know that coming in, and the realization they’ll have to work with numbers in order to graduate is a rude awakening for some.
I look up when I hear the knock at my door, and Melinda, my department chair, pokes her head inside.
“Can I see you when you’re done?” she asks.
“Sure,” I say. “It should just be another couple minutes.”
That’s an underestimate. It’s another fifteen minutes before my student grasps the concepts well enough that he’ll be able to answer the question about them on the next exam.
“Hey,” I stop the guy before he heads out the door. “Did you get your last in-class quiz back from me?”
He frowns. “I think so. Why?”
“This isn’t yours then?” I ask. I hold up a paper with no name on it, my finger covering the failing grade.
The guy steps closer, looks at the paper, and shakes his head. “Nope. Not my writing.”
“Okay, thanks,” I say as he heads out the door.
