“What can I get you?” I asked, setting my hands on the edge of the bar and bracing my arms wide because I knew damn well how doing that made my muscles strain through my shirt. I let my slow smile start to spread as she lifted her face. Chicks always claimed to dig my smile as much as they did my biceps.
She looked up, and I held my breath, waiting for the moment our eyes connected. A jolt tore through me. I’d been hoping for a pretty face, and fuck, I wasn’t disappointed. But the crushed emotion I saw in a pair of green, green eyes caught me off guard. They were wide and lined with some dark, smoky eye makeup that made her look all sexy and edible. But so very, very sad. My protective instincts kicked into gear, ready to rip apart whoever had hurt her.
Then I glanced at her mouth. Her lips were ripe and edible and shaped divinely, just like...wait a second. I knew those lips. They were way too familiar, even as they parted in surprise.
“Holy shit.” I pulled back, zipping my gaze back up to her eyes and then all around her face, to take in the entire picture.
The fucking hot woman was my fucking hot English professor.
Jaw dropping, I couldn’t have contained my shock if I tried.
“Dr. Kavanagh?”
What. The. Hell? This wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t do at all. I’d been craving some woman to help me take my mind off my teacher. And the universe had sent me her wearing a hot black dress instead? Un-fucking-believable.
I was immediately pissed for two reasons. This was totally not helping me get over my fixation on her. And the mystery woman who might’ve actually helped me do that turned out to be just as forbidden as she was, because they were one and the same. I narrowed my eyes and clenched my teeth. Well, this was just peachy.
***
"I wondered if he realized that the way he looked at me was far more intimate than copping a feel could ever be.” - Maggie Stiefvater, Shiver
***
ASPEN
I’d been stood up. I hadn’t talked to Philip since the day before when we’d revised our plans, but I figured we were still on.
Oh, how wrong I was.
But I was already here, so I stayed and kept looking for him. I didn’t want to become a lame loser and go home alone in the nicest, sexiest dress I owned to sulk on the couch as I ate bon-bons and watched reruns of my one true love, Damon, on The Vampire Diaries. I wanted my damn date to show.
So, here I wandered through clusters of partying friends, feeling alone and abandoned. Uncomfortable to find myself surrounded by so many college students, I wondered why Philip had even chosen this place. Wouldn’t he want a break from this crowd?
Thank God, no one had recognized me as their English professor yet, but I’d certainly recognized a few of them. Or maybe I should say no one recognized me until I finally approached the bar after searching the place for Philip for the past forty-five minutes.
But as one of my student’s eyes widened in shock and he uttered, “Dr. Kavanagh?” I gaped back at the football star, deciding Joseph Conrad had been a genius when he’d written Heart of Darkness and coined the phrase, The horror, the horror! Because that was exactly how I felt. Absolutely horrified.
Number one way to make my night a living hell: toss Noel Gamble into the mix while I was being stood up on a date.
I moaned out a little whimper under my breath, wondering what I’d ever done to karma to make it kick me in the tits like this. If Philip showed up now, I’d never be able to concentrate on him because Noel looked incredible in that tight black shirt. And his bulky arms were so...
Oh, yum.
Why did he have to work here of all places?
Clearing my throat, I straightened my shoulders and tried to pretend it was perfectly normal for me to be here, wearing the most-revealing clothes I owned, and relishing some potent alcohol to ease my mangled nerves.
“Y-yes. I...I’ll take a Bud Light Lime.” There. That had sounded good...enough. Normal, average woman ordering a drink from a normal average bartender...who just so happened to star in all the dirty dreams I’d had this past week.
He gaped at me a second longer, then shook his head and dully repeated, “Bud Light Lime,” as if he was a recorder. But as soon as the words seemed to soak into his brain, he wrinkled his brow and snorted. “A Bud Light Lime? Really?”
“What?” I frowned, curious about the venom in his voice.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just thought you’d be more the type to order a blushing champagne in a fluted glass.” He fluttered his eyelashes to complete his mockery.
His contempt shocked me. I would’ve thought he’d despise me a lot less by now. I’d finally given him an A. I’d assured him I would keep his secret. I’d even pretended not to notice when he’d almost kissed me. It hurt to realize he still thought of me as the bitch of the century.
“Well, I’m not,” I mumbled, trying to hide the pain. “May I have a Bud Light Lime or do I need to go somewhere else for a drink?”
“No, no need to go. I can hook you up.” A smirk twisted his lips, and his eyes went hard. “I.D. please.”