Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 60904 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60904 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“Oh. I’m sorry if it’s a painful topic for you. I thought it was just a hobby.”
His eyes meet mine again. “You don’t have to keep things surface level with me. In fact, I’d prefer if you didn’t.”
It’s my turn to look away. “It’s not appropriate for us to have a deeper connection.”
“Is that why you keep avoiding more serious moments with me?” he challenges quietly. “Because I’m your professor?”
“Isn’t that reason enough?”
“I don’t think that’s all it is. You don’t want to rely on me.”
I keep my eyes on the path ahead. “I don’t need to rely on anyone. I know how to take care of myself.”
“Because you’re an orphan.” The soft truth hits me square in the chest. “I understand.”
My first instinct is to snap back that he doesn’t know anything about me.
But he lost his parents too. He empathizes with my pain.
“How old were you?” I ask gently.
“Are we ever old enough to lose our parents?”
It’s not a straight answer, but I can hear the years of anguish in his rough tone.
“No,” I agree. “No one deserves that kind of loss as a child. Is that why you learned how to fight?” I dare to press. “To defend yourself?”
He grimaces. “The orphanage wasn’t a pleasant place, but my foster home was worse. I learned how to protect myself.”
“Me too,” I whisper.
Brandon’s ruined face fills my mind, and my stomach lurches. My survival instincts are the reason he’s dead.
Rand’s hand closes around mine in a pulse of comfort. I should pull away, but instead, I squeeze his fingers. Understanding settles between us as we walk through the quiet neighborhood. There’s no one on the street to see our illicit contact.
In a moment of weakness, I allow myself to lean on him for support.
He seems to need my support too.
Too soon, we arrive at the pub, and I extricate my hand from his.
Even his frown is handsome.
He’s as reluctant to release me as I am to let go of him.
In the last few minutes, our connection has become deeper than simple physical chemistry. I should probably be alarmed by it, but it feels too good to deny.
For years, I’ve been on my own, completely closed off from my peers. Ever since I ran away from the burning stables and my hellish foster home, I’ve kept everyone at an emotional distance.
Something about Rand makes me want to let down some of my walls. Maybe I’ve sensed he’s a kindred spirit all along.
At least, I’ve sensed a softness in him since that day he fussed the little dog during our chance meeting in town.
He was definitely an asshole when he was irritated by the mandated icebreaker, but I barely see that rude part of him anymore.
He’s arrogant and a bit controlling, but he’s also protective and sensitive.
I get the feeling he doesn’t show these layers to many people.
“How long have you been in York?” I ask as he opens the door to the pub for me.
“I arrived just before the start of term. I think I mentioned that I studied in America. I’ve only moved to York recently for this job.”
“So, you’re new here too,” I conclude.
“Yes.” He shoots me the crooked grin that makes my heart flutter. “I could use a friend in town.”
I force myself to put a bit of distance between us.
“We’re here to discuss coursework, remember?” I say pointedly.
“Oh yes. My difficult student needs my brilliant insights.” He gestures at a small room that’s mostly closed off from the rest of the bar. “Grab a seat. I’ll get some drinks.”
“I can get mine,” I protest.
His face hardens to that sexy stern mask. “I thought we already covered this. Are you really going to argue with me over a few quid when I can easily buy our drinks?”
I tip my chin back. “I might be on a student budget, but you’re a first-year lecturer. I’m not going to take advantage of you.”
“My salary has no bearing on my means,” he replies blandly. “I’m in my field of study because I’m passionate about it.”
Oh.
It’s kind of rude for me to grill him about his financial situation. And it’s stupid to argue over paying for one drink.
“I’ll have a diet soda, please.”
He tips his head in acknowledgement and heads off to the bar to place the order.
I settle into the slightly worn, padded bench seat in the corner of the small room. I can hear the murmur of a few voices coming from the main bar area, but otherwise, the pub is mostly empty.
Rand returns with our drinks a minute later, and he settles onto a small stool on the opposite side of the table.
“I should sit there,” I say. “Trade with me.”
He looks a little absurd perched atop the tiny seat with all those bulky muscles.
He waves off my command. “You’re comfortable where you are. Stay.”