Chapter 7 Harper #2
Then he’s gone, moving down the hallway with that long, confident stride of his. I swallow, trying to rearrange my face into something closer to neutral, before turning back to Professor Travers to thank him for the introduction and say goodbye.
My limbs feel shaky as I head out into the bright afternoon sunshine.
Why does he affect me like that? It was the most innocent of interactions and my heart is beating like I’ve just run a race.
Not that I would know what it feels like to run a race, considering my idea of working out is taking a long walk with an audiobook playing on my phone, but still.
How in the hell am I going to manage to work with him if I get this position? I wonder, feeling despondent. There are other research projects. But I know the best thing for my academic career is to go for Nate’s team. I can’t not go for it just because I have a crush. That’s absurd.
“Miss Cain.”
I spin on my heel to see the man himself hurrying across the lawn towards me.
God, does he have to be so good looking? This would all be so much easier if he didn’t look like some cross between Matt Bomer and Hugh Jackman.
He reaches me but doesn’t say anything. Just looks down at me, studying me, until I’m uncomfortable enough to speak first.
“I thought you had a meeting.”
He waves off my words. “It’s unimportant.”
What does that mean? Is he saying I’m more important? Jesus, Harper, get a grip.
“Where are you headed now?” he asks, his voice a touch less polished than when we were upstairs.
“The library.”
His eyes glint at me as the corners of his mouth tug up. “On the first day of classes? Mason wasn’t kidding about you, was he?”
I bristle at that. “What did he say?”
He tilts his head at my sharp tone. “That you were the most driven and intelligent person he knows.”
That brings me up short. I swallow a few times before managing a lame reply. “Oh.”
His forehead creases. “That surprises you.” It isn’t a question. I shrug. “He doesn’t tell you how highly he thinks of you.” Another non-question. I don’t bother shrugging this time.
“Usually he acts like I’m more of a burden than anything.”
He frowns down at me and then runs one fingertip down my jaw. The contact makes my skin burn. “I can assure you he doesn’t think of you that way.”
I finally manage to meet his blue eyes and the tenderness I see there takes my breath away.
His gaze hardens as he looks at me, changing into something that whispers of desire.
He heaves in a ragged breath before he seems to realize he’s touching me.
He takes his hand away, shoving it into his pocket. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” I whisper.
“So. The library?” he asks, arranging his face into a neutral smile.
I try to match his casual expression. “I wanted to get a head start on some things.”
His eyes search my face. “Something is wrong.”
I frown. “Nothing is—”
“Your hands are shaking.”
I glance down at them and think it’s a good thing he can’t see my knees. Talk about shaking.
“Harper.” He’s waiting for an answer. I sigh.
“It’s just an overwhelming day. I’m a bit tired.”
He frowns. “Did you eat?”
“I had a granola bar.”
He scoffs. “That’s not a meal. What about breakfast?”
I don’t respond—I have a feeling he won’t be pleased with my answer.
“Let’s go.” He takes my elbow, urging me down the path.
I stumble along next to him. “Go?”
“You need to eat, Harper.”
“Nate—”
“You don’t have a class now?”
“No, but—”
“Then let’s go.”
I could tell him that my shakiness has nothing at all to do with lack of food and everything to do with his presence on this campus. But I can’t ignore the edge of authority in his tone. Something in his voice that warns me not to argue.
So I close my mouth and allow him to lead me down the path.
Nate is silent the entire walk to his office, the quiet grating on my already taut nerves.
I don’t know how to read him, don’t know what to think of his insistence that I eat.
Is it a sign that he cares for me? That he worries?
Or does he just consider it his duty as Mason’s friend to keep an eye on me?
I have no idea and by the time we reach his office, the shaking in my hands and knees has spread to the rest of me.
In his office, Nate pulls a sandwich and two waters from a small fridge in the corner. “Sit,” he says, pointing at the chair across from his desk.
“So, you’re always this bossy?” I ask, taking my seat.
He offers me a small smile. “Force of habit.”
I think of all the ways he might regularly practice his bossiness and color comes to my cheeks. I take the offered sandwich half and one of the waters eagerly, happy to have something to do with my hands. We both begin to eat, silence settling over us again.
Why in the hell did he insist on bringing me here if he doesn’t have a thing to say to me?
“Nate,” I finally blurt out. “Are you going to ask me to not apply for the position?”
He looks up from his sandwich and his eyes are hard. I swallow, recognizing his expression.
Nate is pissed.
“You think I would do that?” His voice is cold and hard and I find I can’t think of a single response. He continues. “You think I would in any way compromise your education or your chances at success at this university just because of a few pleasant hours spent in your company?”
There’s something in his tone at those words, almost like condescension. Like he’s minimizing that time we spent at Wyld. And maybe he’s right. It was only a few hours. Certainly not anything to upend my life over.
So why is he looking at me with so much fire in his eyes?
“It wouldn’t bother you? If I got the position?”
He scowls. “I didn’t say it wouldn’t bother me. I said I wouldn’t do anything to prevent it.”
“So it would bother you?” I whisper.
That same muscle clenches in his jaw. “Working with you without touching you sounds like a special kind of torture, Harper.”
Holy shit. Those words send desire shooting straight to my center. How does he do this to me? Affect me so much without even touching me? He leans across the desk toward me, the nearness of him making my stomach flip.
He clears his throat, waiting for me to meet his eyes. “But I could handle it, Harper. We could handle it. We’re both adults. These are the boundaries we have to set in our lives.”
I swallow, not sure how to feel. The way he goes from fire to perfectly controlled so quickly has me reeling.
“Harper,” he says, and though his voice is kind, it still makes me feel like shit. Like he’s a grownup, gently letting a child down. “Even if you didn’t get the position, you know we can’t do this. I’m a professor—”
“In a different department,” I begin, but he cuts me off.
“And Mason is a very good friend. A very old, good friend. This thing between us—it can’t happen again.”
I know he’s right. Of course he’s right. The most important thing in my life is this graduate program. It needs to be my entire focus. And when Nate is around, it’s very hard to focus on anything else. I need to get a handle on this.
“I understand.”
He smiles. “Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page.” His tone is kind—and more than a little patronizing. It makes me want to start a fight.
“And when we see each other at the Club we’ll just ignore each other?”
The kindness immediately flees his face. “I told you that it won’t be happening.”
I cross my arms, eying him over the desk. “I don’t believe that being a friend—even a very old friend—of my brother, or a professor at this university, gives you the authority to tell me what to do in my free time.”
He stands, placing his hand flat on the desk. “Harper—”
“No.” I stand too, gesturing down at the sandwich I’ve barely touched.
“I get that you have this whole bossy thing going on. That’s fine.
I’m sure it comes in handy directing research.
If I end up getting the position, you can boss me around on campus to your heart’s content. But that’s where it ends.”
The splayed fingers on his desk clench, the only outward sign that he’s battling his control. “Harper.”
I turn to leave. “Thanks for the lunch, Dr. Chase.”
I only manage to get halfway to the door before I feel his strong fingers wrapping around my wrist, his voice an angry rasp in my ear. “You are not to go to that club again, do you understand me?”
I turn to find myself face-to-face with him. He’s clearly angry, his breathing heavy. He seems on edge and I wonder what it would be like to make him completely lose control. The thought makes me shiver.
“Again,” I manage, though my voice is shaking. “Not your problem.”
He just stares at me and I can see it’s taking everything in him to keep from losing it.
“Fine,” he says at last, releasing my wrist. The corners of his mouth tug up but the smile is anything but warm.
It’s more than a little terrifying, to be honest. “I’ll just have to make sure you stay plenty busy with your school work. ”
We stare at each other for a long moment. For some reason, it feels like I’ve won something—though I can’t say exactly what. “You do that,” I tell him, offering my sweetest smile. Then I turn again to the door and hurry out before he loses the last bit of patience that he’s still clinging to.