17. Karolina #2
“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.”
I purse my lips. “Is that an order, Professor?”
“Do you want it to be?”
Unmistakable heat flares between my legs. I reach for the icy glass of soda and take a long draw of the fizzy liquid.
It doesn’t help cool me off.
“You’re really cute when you blush,” he remarks.
“And you’re cute when you sit your massive body on that tiny little stool,” I retort, doing my best to pretend he’s not affecting me.
He laughs. “Then it’s a good thing you’re still on the bench, and I’m over here. I don’t hear you arguing anymore about trading places.”
I shrug. “You can be uncomfortable if you want.”
“You see what I endure for you?” he teases. “And still, you snipe at me.”
“You like it, remember?” I rebut coolly. “You said you enjoy our banter.”
His grin is wolfish. “You have an excellent memory, Miss Williams. No wonder you’re such a stellar academic.”
“You said it very recently. Of course I remember.”
“Or maybe I’m simply a memorable man,” he remarks.
I snort. “I’m sure you like to think so.”
His low hum rolls down my spine like a forbidden caress. “You enjoy our banter too. You can’t seem to help yourself.”
“Only because you’re mildly infuriating.” I gesture at his satchel before we can continue with this dangerous flirtation. “What about getting those papers out? Maybe my controlling professor could learn a few things from me this time, since you keep insisting that we’re basically peers.”
“Very sensible,” he approves, retrieving a book and a printed journal article from his bag.
He arranges them on the table between us, but instead of discussing history, he redirects our conversation to an earlier topic.
“I spoke to my friend about tracking your stalker’s messages,” he says, and my heated blood instantly cools.
We’re only here because of my stalker. This isn’t the time to indulge in my unhealthy attraction to him.
“He said he’ll look into it,” Rand continues. “I’ll need your phone for a minute.”
I hand over the device without protest.
“Show me the latest messages.” His voice drops deeper.
My fingers fly over the keypad to unlock the screen, and I navigate to the sick texts.
Rand’s face tightens as he reads them, but I can’t tell what he’s thinking.
“I know it’s creepy,” I say. “But I don’t think he’ll hurt me.”
I’m speared by his dark stare. “This man is obsessed with you. There’s no telling how far he might go to possess you.”
My stomach dips. The psycho has killed for me.
He might promise not to hurt me, but he’s clearly out of touch with reality.
“Do you think your friend can help?” My voice is a bit too high and thin.
Rand nods. “I’m going to forward the messages to my phone. Then I can send them to my friend.”
“Okay,” I agree. “Thank you.”
“When we figure out who he is, I’ll make sure he goes away for good,” he promises darkly.
My mouth goes dry. His face is a stony, unfeeling mask.
“How?”
“You don’t need to worry about that.”
I shift in my seat. “I don’t want you to do anything…illegal.”
He rolls tension from his broad shoulders. “Beating the shit out of your stalker would be illegal, but I doubt he’ll report me. He’s breaking the law too.”
I consider him for a moment, then reluctantly nod my agreement.
I’ve lived through enough to know that violence is necessary sometimes.
Carter’s bloody face fills my mind. The crimson stream poured the gaping wound where I smashed the horseshoe into his skull…
Rand’s hand covers my chilled fingers, calling me back to him.
“You’re safe with me,” he promises.
“I know.”
I feel it deep in my bones. He’s proving to me that he cares about my safety, and I don’t doubt that he’s strong enough to do what’s necessary to fend off my stalker.
One of the bar staff enters the room, and I jerk my hand away from his.
The woman doesn’t seem to notice. She’s too intent on her work, which apparently includes lighting a fire.
The pub is a bit chilly now that we’re getting deeper into September.
I don’t particularly like fires after escaping the blaze at the stables, but I can bear a lit hearth across the room from me.
I look back at Rand, pulling my focus from the small flame.
He’s fixated on it. His jaw is tight, and his blocky brow shines with a hint of sweat.
“Are you too warm in here?” I ask. “We can go outside.”
He doesn’t answer me.
I tentatively brush my fingers over his. He jolts away.
My gut tightens at his sudden distance. I don’t like that he’s recoiling from me.
He blinks and quickly removes his glasses to rub his eyes.
“Are you okay?” I’m not sure if I’ve done something to upset him.
“I need to go,” he says, standing abruptly.
He shoves the book and papers into his satchel and hands my phone back to me.
“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you.”
He jerks his head to the side, clearly irritated. “I’ll call a car for you.”
He’s not offering to walk me home. My heart sinks.
And that’s entirely unreasonable. It’s better this way. I can’t have my professor walking me through town all the time. If it’s occasional, I could easily explain it away; as his MA student, it’s okay to seek him out for academic study. But too often would be foolish.
“It’s a black sedan,” he says in clipped tones. “They should be pulling up now.”
He walks towards the exit, and I trail in his wake.
I have no idea what’s shifted between us in the last few minutes, but he seems eager to be rid of me.
I duck past him out of the pub.
I’m not going to beg for his attention. He’s done enough already to protect me from my stalker.
“I’ll see you soon,” he says gruffly as I cross the sidewalk to get to the car.
“Okay,” I agree, unsure how to respond.
“Lena.” He takes a deep breath and seems to collect himself. “I really do need to leave. But I’ll be around if you need me.”
I take a moment to study him. His brow still shines with sweat, but his jaw isn’t shadowed with tension anymore.
When I don’t respond right away, he closes the distance between us under the pretense of opening my car door. His body is too close to mine, and I’m suddenly all too aware of his muscular frame surrounding me.
My head tips back so I can meet his gaze. His eyes dip to my lips.
Sensual tension crackles between us. All he has to do is bend down and capture my mouth with his, and I would flower open for him…
“Don’t hesitate to contact me,” he says, the command almost a low growl.
He steps back, denying us both the kiss we crave.
I manage to straighten my shoulders. We’re in public. We’ve been standing too close to each other for too long already.
“I will,” I promise breathily as I get in the car.
I don’t know if I’m capable of staying away from him anymore.