“Allow me.” He carried the tray, unbothered, like nothing happened.
“Thanks.” I sighed, ambling to a free table. We sat across from each other. He took off his glasses for a second to clean them with his tie.
Damn, those eyes. That was too much beauty for one person to have. I dropped my gaze, and it landed on his lips.
This is ridiculous. I give up.
How was I supposed to fight the temptation when he had all this? The smell, the face, the gaze, the lips, the body, the voice, the way he carried himself, the fucking glasses, even his name. I was crushing on Professor Asher whether I liked it or not. Hard.
With him around, my new life was not going to be as easy as I thought it would be.
I tore open the plastic case of my sandwich and munched on it like a starving animal, not bothering with how I must have been looking to him right now. My gaze wandered to the floor to ceiling windows of the food court, taking the view of the surrounding woods and the gray sky. It was very odd how the weather changed so rapidly around the day here. One minute it was sunny, the next it was dreary. Just like the emotions this man, watching me with intent interest while I was stuffing my mouth with turkey, struck in me.
“Aren’t you going to eat anything?”Please. Do anything awkward or ugly or disgusting. You’re a man. It’s not going to be this hard.
“I had a big breakfast,” he said. “Also, I prefer decent meals that aren’t microwaved. If you’d like, I can show you the finest of Forest Grove’s grills when you have the time.”
I listened, lost in the depth of his voice. At times, he seemed to have an accent that I couldn’t place, but then he’d speak again, and it would be gone.
Also…was he asking me out?
Not prepared for such question, I pressed hard on my thumbnail, a bad habit I had since I was a child, and later I changed into an anchoring technique to tone down anxiety. “Where are you from?”
“Oregon.”
“Really?”
“Is that so strange?”
I shrugged, scarfing down the last bite of my sandwich. “I thought I detected an accent and sometimes you speak like you came out of Persuasion.”
He put his glassed back on. “I reckon I just like Austin.”
Give me a break.“You? You like Jane Austin.”
“Actually, Persuasion is one of my favorites.”
My nose crinkled. “I hate that book. Why would anyone like that book?”
His jaw flexed, and his gaze seemed distant. “I like it because time didn’t get in between. They waited for each other, and in the end they got their happily ever after.”
A fucking brooding, helpless romantic! A tormented soul with a broken heart! Oh, please. Just drop down your pants and put it in my mouth.
“What seems to surprise you, Professor?”
“You.” I gulped on my cinnamon tea. Ummm…so good. “Contradiction after contradiction, it’s giving me a whiplash.”And big gushes between my legs. I really need to change my panties.
“I only contradict what you expected. Perhaps you just need to put all your assumptions aside and give yourself a chance to know who I really am. Then make your judgment, if you must.”
He won again. I ran a hand through my hair, pressing my nail on the other. “You’re right.”
Now, he was surprised. “That’s new.”
“What is that?”
“A woman telling a man he’s right.”
I laughed under my breath. “If you stick around long enough, I might contradict your expectations too, Professor.”
