Chapter Two
TWO
Micah
For a second, all I can do is stand there and glare at the jerk from the elevator.
I take a slow, silent breath and try to keep my composure in this room full of people who undoubtedly hate me. I’ve done this almost every day for the three years that I’ve had this job. I’m used to the harsh stares and chilly response. It sucks, but it’s part of being a financial auditor. It would be nice to work at a place where people didn’t loathe me, but every job has its downsides. What I’m not used to is being made fun of straight to my face for such a petty reason.
Technically, it wasn’t straight to my face given I was standing with my back to this guy. Still though. I was basically pressed up against him as he shit-talked my name. What an asshole. Yeah, I’ve gotten comments my whole life about how unusual it is for a girl to have a “boy” name. It’s so damn annoying. But no one’s straight-up made fun of my name since elementary school. I didn’t expect to deal with this schoolyard crap as a thirty-two-year-old.
This is technically a school though—a university. So it’s fitting in that way, I guess.
It takes an extra second for me to refocus and let the sting of this guy’s insult roll off my back. Probably because he’s got that hot-nerd look going for him—my personal weakness. I got a glimpse of his face in the reflection of the mirrored side panel of the elevator, but now I get to take in him face-to-face as he stands just a handful of feet away from me.
Wow. He’s exceptionally good-looking. I take in his Buddy Holly glasses; his shaggy chestnut curls; how that dress shirt barely fits the broad, lean spread of his shoulders; how the sleeves are rolled halfway up those muscular, veiny forearms of his…
He looks like a handsome pro athlete who’s cosplaying as a professor.
Shame heats my cheeks as I try to ignore that faint ache in my chest. It never feels good when someone hurts your feelings, but it cuts deeper when that someone is a person you find ridiculously attractive.
I have a lot of experience with that.
I clear my throat and refocus on the moment. Enough of this self-pity session. Forget this hot-nerd jerk. I’ve got a job to do.
“Good morning, everyone. Thank you, Dr. Wauncho, for that warm welcome.”
He’s the only person who acknowledges what I’ve said. He offers a polite nod while everyone else aims a hard stare at me. And honestly, I don’t blame them. In a month and a half, some of the people standing in this room may not have a job because of me.
I ignore the churn in my stomach that thought causes. This isn’t about feelings. This is about doing my job. And if everyone here is doing their own jobs well, they won’t have anything to worry about.
“I’m sure all of you would prefer it if I keep pleasantries to a minimum and cut straight to the point, so here it is—for the next six weeks, I’ll be conducting one-on-one meetings with all of you and observing you in your day-to-day roles as I determine just how effective you are in this department. At the end of my time here, I’ll prepare a report with my recommendations and submit it to the head of the university.”
“A report?” the hot nerd’s blond friend asks. “What exactly will be in this report?”
“Many things. How many hours you put in per day at the university, how many classes you teach, how many students are enrolled in your classes, your retention rate, how many students drop your classes, what improvements you could make to your lesson plans in order to increase retention.”
Blond Guy scoffs. Hot-Nerd Jerk frowns and pulls his lips into his mouth, like he wants to say something but is holding back. What’s his name? His friend said it in the elevator, but I can’t remember now.
Everyone else in the room grumbles or whispers to one another. Sweat beads dot along my spine. Already I can feel the anxiety sweat soaking through my blouse.
This is your job, Micah. Who cares if they don’t like you? This isn’t a popularity contest.
I notice Hot-Nerd Jerk pursing his lips as his blond friend mutters something I can’t hear to him. Hot-Nerd Jerk shakes his head and rolls his eyes.
“Look, I understand that none of you are thrilled about my being here,” I say, pleased at how steady and firm my tone is despite the nerves firing inside of me. “But here’s the truth—your university is hemorrhaging money, and I’ve been asked to help solve this problem.”
Hot-Nerd Jerk grumbles loudly to his friend once more. Then he glances over at me before looking back at his friend and smirking. Like he’s shit-talking me right in front of my face. Again. Irritation burns hot inside of me.
“Is there something you’d like to say to me?”
It takes a second before he realizes I’m speaking to him. His brow hits his hairline as he looks back over at me. “Are you talking to me?”
“Yes. You seem to have a lot to say to your friend. If you have a question, ask me. If you’d prefer to gossip, you can leave this meeting instead of being rude enough to whisper while I’m trying to address you and your colleagues.”
His friend winces and says, “Sorry, Aidan” in a low voice.
For a second, all Aidan does is look at me, his blue eyes hard. And then he chuckles. He fucking chuckles. Like this is all a joke to him.
“Okay, sure, I’ve got a question—what did you study in college?”
I pause. I wasn’t expecting that.
“I have an MBA,” I say.
I don’t miss the tight set of his jaw as he bites down, clearly displeased with my answer. “Did you also study English or literature?”
“I didn’t.” I took writing classes and have always loved reading and writing for fun, but I don’t mention that. Because I know that wouldn’t make a difference to a pretentious jerk like him. He’d only care about my opinion if I had an impressive degree in the subject to back it up.
Kind of like my ex.
An ugly feeling pools in the pit of my stomach. That’s the second time this guy has reminded me of him. Definitely a bad sign.
I push away the thought. My douchebag ex doesn’t deserve to take up any more space in my brain.
“So what makes you think that you’re qualified to make recommendations about something you know nothing about?” Aidan asks.
I start to speak, but he cuts me off.
“We’re supposed to trust that you and your MBA know better about literature coursework than actual professors with degrees in this subject?”
His tone borders on taunting as he says MBA . My skin pricks as the irritation inside of me bubbles over. It’s not till the base of my skull starts to ache that I realize just how hard I’m biting down.
“Maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world to get an outsider’s perspective on things, given the status of your budget and less than desirable student enrollment numbers,” I say.
He works his jaw like he’s trying to decide between screaming or grunting. “Is putting people out of work a passion pursuit for you? Or do you get a bonus for each faculty member you help get fired?”
Gasps follow Hot-Nerd Jerk’s smart-ass question. I almost choke at his audacity, but I manage to keep my mouth closed. That burn of irritation is now a full-on bonfire in my belly. This guy. Fine if he’s not happy about me being here, but he has no right to be an unprofessional asshole.
“Professor Scott, that tone isn’t necessary,” Dr. Wauncho says.
“I disagree,” Hot-Nerd Jerk aka Professor Scott says. “We could all be out of a job in just over a month because of Ms. Mila. I think we have a right to express how we feel about that.”
Dr. Wauncho starts to speak, but I stop him.
“I’m happy to address Professor Scott.” I pin him with my gaze. “I do this because it’s my job. Kind of like how you’re here because it’s your job.”
“I’m not like you,” he bites. The sting of his tone takes me by surprise. I don’t even know this guy and he’s already doing a number on my self-esteem. “I do this job because I’m passionate about literature and I think it’s important to teach my students the classics. Not that I’d expect you to understand anything about appreciating the value of something like literature since, you know, you can’t assign a dollar amount to it.”
My skin flashes hot. The anger brewing inside of me has seeped through my pores with that pretentious-as-fuck dig at me. “I assure you, Professor Scott, by the end of my audit, I’ll have figured out the exact value of you and this department.”
I spot the fury the moment it flashes in his icy blue eyes. I can see it clear as day even though I’m standing a dozen feet from him.
The room is dead silent as we glare at each other. Usually I’d be fighting the urge to crawl out of my skin in a moment like this, trading insults with a stranger in a room full of onlookers. But I’m too pissed to feel anything other than rage right now. And determination.
I sit back down, the meeting ends, and I march out of the room.
This guy hates me. Good. That’s going to make my job a lot easier.