4. Rose #2
With a shake of her head, Rose turned slowly and dug through her backpack.
Last night, she added a few notes to the project packet, but today’s schedule was full.
Her phone read a few chapters of the textbook to her while she ran around campus that morning.
At least she’d made some voice notes, ones she jotted down in the margins of the packet when Kirin slid into the booth across from her.
She glanced up, only to find another guy in his place, and her hand paused.
Her fingers tightened around the pen as she twirled it, holding it like a weapon.
He was slim and lacked the muscles that filled out her partner.
Instead of a Montgomery Athletics shirt, there was a plain button-down, and in place of the gray eyes and messy black-brown waves were hazel eyes and a cropped dark blond hairstyle that screamed old money.
Preston had the same hairstyle. She knew it well.
“You’re Adeline Aldrich-St. James, right?” the stranger asked, and she stiffened.
Nobody at Montgomery had called her by her legal name. Preston was the last person who had. He thought it was more in line with his family than the middle name she preferred.
“It’s Rose,” she corrected with a quick glance to the register, where Kirin was once again laughing with the brunette.
Kirin shook his head and leaned against the counter, making the barista blush again. Rose squinted at the name tag pinned over her heart—Kelli—and sighed. No chance he was coming back anytime soon.
“You’re listed in the class roster as Adeline.” He grinned at her. The boyish charm that would probably get him out of a murder charge had her hackles rising. “I’m still catching up on all the names. Professor Humphrey asked me to help with her classes while Gemma is out with bronchitis.”
“I heard about Gemma, and you are?” she asked. Wishing like hell that Kirin would come back.
A devil that didn’t have her wanting to crawl out of her skin was better than whatever this guy had going on.
The way he kept looking at her, hazel eyes that should have had some warmth, were calculating.
What he was seeing was a mystery to her, though.
She’d glimpsed herself in the mirrors of the weight room on her way out of the training center and again when she got out of her Bronco.
Damp curls she tried to wrangle into a braid over her shoulder, no makeup because she couldn’t be bothered, tired eyes, and an oversized, thin sweatshirt stamped with her mom’s garage logo over loose joggers because she couldn’t wrestle with her yoga pants and breathe simultaneously.
Not exactly runway worthy, and not enough mystery there to warrant the careful way he was picking over her features.
“Hopkins, you realize if you want to order, you have to do it from the bar, right?” Kirin asked as he slid into the booth beside her. His arm came up and curled around the seat behind her, not touching, but the warmth was a stark contrast to the cold that had overtaken her. She shivered.
“Callaghan, I didn’t know you knew Adeline.” Hopkins’ smile widened like they were old friends as he slid his gaze between them. Her hackles rose at the use of her given name, and she caught Kirin shifting in the corner of her eye, his body stiffening like he didn’t like it either.
Odd.
“I could say the same about you. How do you know my girl?” Kirin asked, and she froze at the possessive phrasing. Combined with the lack of warmth in his tone, she really wanted to see his face, to understand why his tone changed, why he’d claim her, and why he cared.
“Your girl? My, my, I can hear the hearts breaking all over campus,” Hopkins chuckled, and she adjusted, leaning a bit into Kirin’s side.
She certainly would not correct Kirin in front of this guy. Not when he switched from analyzing her to looking at her like she was a challenge. “What can we do for you, Liam?”
Liam Hopkins.
She silently thanked Kirin for filling in the gap for her.
She’d do whatever she could to avoid that name when she saw it now.
And if he was a TA, she was damn grateful that Professor Humphrey’s class was almost always during her games or travel.
She had talked at length with Professor Humphrey about meeting the demands of her class through independent reading and online submissions since she wouldn’t make it to most of those classes until after Halloween, and the professor seemed fine with the arrangement.
“Adeline will be absent from our next class meeting, so I thought I would introduce myself. You know how the professors encourage communication.” He grinned at her again, boyish charm in full force.
She wondered if she could sprain an eye muscle from rolling her eyes. Not willing to risk another injury, Rose swallowed her displeasure and tried to keep her face impassive as Kirin asked, “Which class?”
“History of Literature: Cause and Effect.” Kirin hummed at the answer, relaxing when Liam’s smile turned impish. “I’m supporting Professor Humphrey while Gemma is sick and Adeline is her advisee, so I volunteered to track her down.”
Kirin stiffened again. When Liam saw Kirin’s arm curled around Rose until his fingers brushed her shoulder, he threw Kirin an oily smile.
She didn’t like that phrasing much, or that he found her.
And as odd as the professor was, there was very little chance she would send a wolf in wolf’s clothing out to hunt down a female student she’d already talked with twice in the last week.
“I believe Professor Humphrey already emailed me any necessary documents, and I spoke with her yesterday, but I appreciate the effort. You shouldn’t have.” She forced a pleased smile onto her face when the last sentence came out harsher than she wanted.
“Of course, anytime.” Liam slid out of the booth. “See you around.”
Rose spun her pen and finished her scribbling, hoping to brush off the lingering feel of Liam’s gaze.
The bell rang a second later, and Kelli called out an order, sliding a couple of plates and two mugs onto the end of the bar.
Kirin took a measured breath beside her, his arm disappearing as he left to grab the pile of dishes from the bar’s edge.
She caught sight of the mug, the sloshing, steaming liquid inside, and watched it until Kirin slid it and a plate in front of her.
He took his place on the opposite side of the booth again.
“Eat up; the avocado will help with the inflammation,” he said before stuffing a piece of avocado toast topped with seeds of some kind and a sliced hard-boiled egg into his mouth.
“What just happened?”
“Liam Hopkins is one of my mother’s graduate students.
” He rolled his eyes. “Thinks he’s God’s gift to the world.
He likes to pick from her classes for girls to pursue, like he’s still living in the times of Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters.
I think he fancies himself a Heathcliff or maybe a Darcy, as if he—”
“Your mother is a professor?” she asked, her voice trailing off as she leaned her head back against the booth, running through the possibilities.
There were no Professor Callaghans.
“She’s the head of the department,” he answered with a shrug.
Rose let out a defeated sigh, though it came out as more of a distressed whine.
Professor Herondale was his mother.
Was Laurel’s mother.
Fuck.
Of course, she was.
Now that she thought about it, Laurel looked nearly identical to her mother.
Dammit.
“Problem?” Kirin asked as he shoved another mouthful of toast in.
“Am I destined to be entangled with your family forever? Why does this keep happening?” She rubbed her eyes and shoved a piece of toast into her mouth. The bite muffled her words. “Thanks for the food.”
He nodded as he shoved the other piece of toast into his mouth, then downed probably half his mug of coffee or whatever sugary confection smelled like Nutella on steroids.
It had her wondering if he didn’t have taste buds, or maybe just no heat receptors because the steaming liquid was probably on the verge of molten.
She could feel him watching her as she chewed and swallowed, taking in the bustling cafe around them.
The chatter was soothing, and nobody looked twice in her direction.
All the attention when people walked by—was on Kirin.
“You wanna tell me what happened at practice?”
“Nope.” She sniffed at the edge of the mug in front of her. “What did you order?”
“A St. James Sweets staple known as Whole Latte Heartbreak.” He downed the second half of his mug as she slid the mug toward him. That had him questioning, “You don’t like coffee?” His voice dropped to a grave tone. “Or happiness?”
“I like coffee just fine,” she hedged with a brief look between him, the mug, and the counter. Her stomach twisted with familiar concern, the lack of control of what might be in it.
Kirin watched her, his gaze shifting from her to the mug to the end of the bar he’d retrieved it from as he pushed it back in front of her. “You good?”
She could see the questions there, ones she didn’t want to answer.
“Yep.” She took a small sip. The hot liquid scalded her mouth before she swallowed it, only for it to burn a trail down her throat too. He definitely didn’t have sensation in his mouth or throat after that. There were no other plausible options.
He leaned over the table, his gaze intent. “I used to work here.”
“You mentioned my aunt being your boss the other day, so I kind of figured it was this place.” She glanced over at the bar, trying to picture Kirin in place of Kelli. “I bet the college girls were counting the days until you turned eighteen.”
“They probably were, but my point is I have zero problem making one myself. If that’ll help, you can watch me.” Kirin tilted his head. “Whatever you need.”