Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
EMMA
“Emma?” he asks, eyes slightly wide. He quickly shakes his head as if about to apologize for calling me by my first name when a man’s hand lands on his shoulder. They’re both dressed formally in suits without ties.
“Hayes, you coming? Everyone’s outside waiting.” The unfamiliar man glances at me briefly and smiles.
It takes Grayson a moment to look away from me and toward the large, empty table. I look down at my wineglass, wiping away another tear that seems to have escaped.
Fuck, how embarrassing.
“Um, I’ll catch up with you next week, Jamal.”
I whip my head toward him to tell him to leave, but he’s shaking his friend’s hand goodbye. Based on his body language, it’s clear that the two men are close.
Averting my gaze, I sit straight in my seat while playing with the sleeves of my dress again.
He really shouldn’t be staying here with me. Not when other adults saw him approach me—and where is Charles with my check?
After checking my phone for the umpteenth time, I see that the kitchen is closing in five minutes, and I’m starving. I’ll grab some pizza on the way to my dorm and eat it in private, with a half-pint of strawberry ice cream to help soothe the pain of tonight’s embarrassment.
“Are you okay?” Grayson’s voice startles me. I almost forgot he was here.
How can I answer his question without sounding lame?
“Yep,” I lie.
He pauses for a moment. “May I ask why you’re at a table for seven people, but you’re the only one here drinking a bottle of wine alone?”
Biting the inside of my cheek, a mix of anger and sadness swells in my throat.
Letting out a deep breath, I glance up at his unique eyes. Screw it. “I was stood up.”
He raises a brow. “Okay. I’m assuming it wasn’t a date?”
“Why did you stay behind? You should’ve left with your friends.” The wine buzz seems to have taken over because my words sounded a bit rude. I’ve always been straightforward, but never rude. “I’m sorry for my tone. It’s just been a rough night.”
He sighs and sits next to me when Charles appears. “Here’s your check for the wine, miss.”
“Thank you, Charles.”
I grab my purse and fish out my credit card. Just as I’m about to put it down, my stomach growls loudly enough that even Grayson hears it, and my face heats up.
“Have you eaten or drunk anything? Except for the wine, that is.”
Shrugging, I don’t look back up. “I’ll get something on the way to my dorm. The kitchen’s about to close.”
Grayson stands after a moment. “Wait here.” He walks away, and I try to stand up and leave, but my curiosity gets the best of me.
This is someone I’ll be working with for the next month and a half, and he was kind enough to stay with me after I was humiliated in front of an entire restaurant staff and its customers.
Either that or he pities me.
After five minutes, he comes back. “Follow me.”
Gazing back up at him, I tilt my head. “Um, why?” He rolls his eyes, and that’s when I see his blown-up pupils and loose stance. My mouth falls open in delight and surprise. “You’re drunk.”
Now this is making sense.
“I’m not drunk,” he scoffs. I cross my arms over my chest, and his shoulders slump. “Maybe a little tipsy…”
This time, I stand up to leave. “Have a good night, Professor Hayes.” There’s no way in hell I’m staying here while he’s in the same state he was in London, as fun as he may be when he drinks.
I only manage to take three steps when he speaks. “I ordered you some food.” Turning, I assess his face and see that his jaw is set, as it has been since I first ran into him in Driscoll. “The chef’s a friend from college, and the meal will go to waste if you don’t stay.”
“You’ve had a couple of drinks tonight, Professor, and I’ve had two and a half glasses of wine on an empty stomach. You remember what happened the last time we were together with alcohol in our systems.” I lift both eyebrows and hold them there.
A heated look flickers across his face, but it disappears in an instant. “It’s just food, Ms. Haywood. A professor helping a student.”
Whatever he drank has definitely loosened him up. He didn’t bother to confront me about bringing up London, even though, less than two weeks ago, I’d told him it never happened.
My stomach growls again, and he smiles. He knows my wine buzz and appetite will win.
“Fine, but I’m leaving as soon as I’m done with the meal.”
“Of course.”
“And I want a booth.”
Grayson smirks all sexy-like. It’s a look I haven’t seen since July, and my stupid, stubborn core warms, awakened for the first time in months.
No, no. He’s tipsy and so am I. It’s just food.
“Follow me.”
I grab my unfinished bottle of wine as he leads me to a booth made for four, where he sits across from me. Plopping down, I set the bottle on the table and lean back against the comfy faux leather. Grayson shrugs off his suit jacket, and I glance at him for a moment before turning away.
Grayson picks up the wine and motions it to me. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a wine drinker.”
“My dad taught my cousin and me about wine when I turned twelve. The events we went to were boring, and it was his unusual way of entertaining us.” I snatch the bottle from him and pour drinks for both of us into the new glasses on the table.
“I try not to drink it often with my food since I like to enjoy a glass now and then while I read.”
“My parents would only let us color on the kids’ menu.” There’s humor behind his voice, and I chance a glance toward him.
Tilting my head, I take a sip of the delicious liquid. It’s the first time he’s talked about his parents without me needing to ask. “Let’s just say, my family’s a little different than most.”
Grayson smiles again and gives me a once-over. I shift, feeling slightly uncomfortable under his gaze, and quickly change the subject.
“Did you happen to order something that pairs well with the wine?”
“You tell me, Ms. Haywood.”
Charles places a plate of prime steak frites in front of me, and the smell instantly makes my mouth water. The peppercorn sauce on the side is the final perfect touch.
It’s exactly what I was going to order.
I’m not sure why I’m surprised. The man’s a chef, he has to have a knack for what people may want to order.
“Thank you, Charles,” Grayson says.
“Of course, Mr. Hayes.”
My eyes move to his. “You’re not having anything?”
He shakes his head. “I already ate. Go ahead and eat while I continue sipping this great wine.”
Sitting up straighter, I tell him my one request. “Can you at least not stare at me while I eat?”
His deep chuckle catches me off guard, almost making me smile.
Almost.
After his eyes leave me, I dig into the steak and moan at the taste. I don’t mean to, but it’s cooked exactly right, and I haven’t eaten since three p.m.
My gaze flicks upward to see Grayson staring at me with his wineglass halfway to his lips. The look in his eyes feels all too familiar, and goose bumps break along my skin.
“Please stop staring at me.”
He clears his throat and looks away again. “Sorry.”
As I keep eating, I start to feel awkward halfway through the meal. Dropping my silverware, I speak. “All right, I can’t do this. Just talk to me.” His eyes meet mine. “Everything’s off the record, but please break the silence, and for heaven’s sake, call me Emma until I leave to walk to my dorm.”
He sets his wineglass down. “Fine, Emma. What do you want to talk about?”
“What were you here for?”
“A quick business dinner with some old associates, that turned into drinks.” Nodding, I take another bite of my steak. “Who stood you up?”
I stop chewing and glance down at my plate. Just when I was starting to forget… “People I barely know.”
“Emma…”
Sagging against the booth, I continue to avert my gaze. “By some coworkers, okay?”
He scoffs. “Fucking assholes.”
His saying those two words makes me laugh.
“Oh yeah…” I look at him again and lean forward, feeling tipsy and eager to share the pieces I’ve been putting together for the past hour, now that he’s acting like a normal person.
“Wanna know why I think they did it? Or at least the girl who arranged this whole thing?”
Grayson also leans forward. “Hit me.”
“She’s jealous because she didn’t get to interview you and because that interview led to the piece I’m writing now.
” His eyebrows shoot up, and I go back to eating.
“People also spread the word about how attractive you are, and she was envious of not meeting you.” My eyes close the second the sentence leaves my mouth.
“I mean, you know, people gossip. Not me, but others on campus.”
When I glance to see his reaction, all I get is a big grin. “I’ve heard students talking about me and some of the faculty. They’ve said similar things.”
Swallowing a fry, I shrug. “Big college, but word gets around.”
“So, you agree with them?”
My laugh is completely sarcastic, as if he doesn’t already know the answer. “Maybe you should stop drinking, Professor. You’re toeing a fine line here.”
He places the glass down. “You’re right. I apologize.”
Even though I just said he was toeing a fine line, there’s something that’s been itching at me to ask him. “How did you figure out my name is Emma?”
Grayson clears his throat and rubs a hand across his jaw. He’s clearly caught off guard by the question, and I’m worried he won’t respond, but he does.
“I called my sister, who was a big reader in high school, and told her a bit about you.” My eyes widen slightly as I stop chewing. He told his sister about me? “I mentioned you were an English major and gave her the nickname you used that night—”
“Lizzy,” I say softly. The nickname of one of my favorite characters in Pride and Prejudice.
He nods. “Anyway, I told her what I remembered from what you said, and she put two and two together…”
Swallowing the small piece of food in my mouth, I say, “I guess using two Jane Austen references made it a bit easier.”
He offers me a tight smile, and we sit silently while I finish.
This man must’ve had too much to drink if he was willing to tell me this. No one in my life knows about Grayson, yet he told a family member.
“Why did you want to know it?”
I seem to catch him off guard again. His jaw tightens as he examines every inch of my face. “Fine line, Emma. Very fine line.”
Squirming in my seat, I set my napkin down, knowing I’ve gone too far.
“I should go,” I say quietly. “Thank you for doing this. It…helped.”
“It was no problem.”
The check is set on the table, and I go to grab it, but Grayson beats me to the punch.
Oh, hell no.
“It’s on me.”
“Absolutely not. I know how much all this costs, and it isn’t appropriate.” I reach out to grab the check from him, but he pulls it away.
My eyes narrow.
“And from the extensive research you’ve done on me, you’ll know I have the money to pay for it,” he retorts.
He fishes out his wallet, and I jump out of my side of the booth to his.
“Hand me the check, Grayson.”
“Can’t do, Emma.”
I’m sure by the way we’re moving that we look like children, but I keep trying to grab the check. That is, until he sets me down on his lap. His right hand wraps around my wrists, and his mouth sits next to my ear.
Both of our breaths are heavy from all our roughhousing.
“Will you stop behaving like a fucking child and let me pay for the food I ordered for you?”
“Not if you let me go.”
He lets out a small, deep chuckle. “Such a stubborn little thing. I’d better not let you go then.”
I turn my face toward his, and our noses are just inches apart.
That was a bad move.
His smile falls as we stare at each other. His pupils dilate, and I’m sure mine mirror his. I squirm slightly and feel him harden beneath me. Heat pools in my core at the low groan he lets out in the back of this throat.
Dangerous…this is very, very dangerous.
Grayson’s eyes dip to my lips, causing me to lick them, and his hand tightens around my wrists, which makes me gasp slightly.
Something moves behind me, and he opens his mouth. “Thank you, Charles.”
That breaks me out of my haze. Facing forward, I see Charles smile and take the check.
What the hell was that? Whatever it was, I’m not staying to find out.
Grayson lets me go after I attempt to wiggle out of his hold, and I rush to grab my purse. The last thing I want, or need, is to mess this up. It was the alcohol mixed with us, reminiscing about a night I promised to forget.
I decide to ignore how his body responded to mine and vice versa, mentally tossing it into an imaginary trash can.
My hands shake as I fix my dress and braid.
“Emma, I’m sorry—”
“Good night, Professor Hayes.” I turn toward the door, walking with confidence I don’t quite feel. My hands are clammy, and my mind is hazy, not only because of the wine but also because of the way he still affects me.
“Let me walk you to your dorm,” he says from behind me.
“I can handle myself,” I toss over my shoulder. “I’ll see you next week.”
And for the second time this week, I leave with the last word.