by BJ Harvey
The thing is, as much as I wish I were in Vegas with everyone—especially Ronnie—I vowed that absolutely nothing would affect her finishing the class or her degree. I’d walk over hot coals, climb mountains, and ask my brother to take my back against his employer and mine to keep that promise.
I do feel guilty for keeping the complaint and today’s meeting from her, but my original intention was for her to never have to find out.
Bryant told me that was idiotic and even though he disagrees with me effectively lying to my girlfriend—despite having the best of intentions—he near-on smacked me around the back of the head when I was contemplating not telling her at all.
But as always, he was right, and now my plan is to get this stupid complaint ironed out and dealt with, then jump on the first flight available to Vegas to surprise her.
The only other person who knows what is going on is Jamie. For the record, he was Switzerland when it came to whether keeping this from Ronnie was a good idea or not. He said I was stupid but admitted he’d do the exact same thing if it were April. He also said there would be hell to pay when I did tell Ronnie the truth—whatever the outcome—and I’d have to work hard to make up for it.
That doesn’t bother me though, because I’m doing this to protect her and make sure she never has to sacrifice a damn thing ever again.
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, I enter the office of the vice president for academic affairs and let her secretary know I’m here.
Five minutes later, the phone rings, and Bryant and I are ushered through the formidable double doors standing between us and Ronnie’s degree.
Part of me fears it could also determine our future together.
“Remember what Joey said,” Bry says under his breath. “Don’t worry until I’m worried.”
As always, my brother knows exactly what to say and when to say it. Except any issue requiring a meeting such as this is always of concern.
The VP stands and walks around her desk, extending her hand for us to shake. She swings her arm out toward the two empty chairs facing her.
“I’m Heather Kingsley. Take a seat, Professors. You both know Dean Blackman,” she adds, nodding Joey’s way. No handshakes are required this time, but when Joey sends a cursory nod and then a discreet wink my way, I physically feel at least some of the tension leach out of my body. A quick glance at Bryant helps calm me a little more. Knowing he’s at my back means everything.
Once Heather is seated behind her desk, her gaze sweeps through all of us before stopping on me.
“I understand Dean Blackman explained the purpose of today’s meeting? I do apologize for the short notice, but given Dr. Blackman’s upcoming vacation, it was important we attempt to settle this matter before the weekend.”
We’ve done everything right. I know this. But I’m still a little worried just the same?
“So, as you know, a student has come forward and made a complaint of nepotism against you. The complainant has asked to remain anonymous, and college policy dictates that we must honor that wish.”
“I understand,” I reply, knowing full well who the complaining student must be.
“Given the correct steps were taken by both yourself and Ms. Nelson before the class in question began, I am confident that this matter can be resolved quickly. However, policy does require us to hold this meeting today to determine whether this complaint needs to be heard in front of the college’s ethics committee.”
I glance toward Joey who looks so relaxed, it’s like he’s started his vacation already.
Don’t worry until I’m worried.
“To start off with, I understand you and Ms. Nelson are in a relationship—one which started…” She looks down at papers spread out in front of her, “. . . before the start of the introduction to photography class.”
“Yes, that is correct.”
She looks up, removing her glasses and sparing me with a look that states she means business. “Did you not think it would have been pertinent for you to advise the administration of this conflict of interest and remove Ms. Nelson from the paper?”
“I was not aware that Ms. Nelson was going to be a student in my class until the day the semester started. At that late stage, I contacted and met with Dean Blackman at the first opportunity possible to discuss the situation. Having discussed the consequences involved with removing Ron—Ms. Nelson—from this particular class, and the delay it would cause in the completion of her degree, Dean Blackman and I agreed that he would grade all of Ms. Nelson’s assignments and her portfolio, and also compare the grades against those in the class to ensure consistency in marking.”
“If I may add my confirmation that this is exactly what we discussed and what has taken place over the duration of the semester,” Joey adds.
Professor Kingsley looks Joey’s way and nods her acknowledgment.
“Professor Cook,” she says. Both Bryant and I look at her, earning a small twitch of her lips. “Professor Jaxon Cook, in this instance.” I fight off my own grin. “Can you confirm that no favoritism was shown, or extra help was given, to Ms. Nelson, for any of the class tasks or assignments?”
I take a moment to run through anything that may be construed as extra help. “There was one instance where I assigned a task to be completed in pairs, and as there was an odd number of students in the class, Ms. Nelson and I were paired up. This involved a meeting at a cafe off-campus where we discussed the task, and Ms. Nelson bounced ideas off me.”
“And would you determine that she had an advantage by being paired with you for that task?”
“No, I don’t. If any other student approached me with questions, I would—and did—give them the same level of assistance.”
She studies me for what seems like forever before grabbing hold of a pen and writing on the papers in front of her. “Are there any other instances or situations similar to that?”
“I did model for Ms. Nelson for a studio shoot. However, she did not use any images from that day in her final portfolio and I did not offer any suggestions or guidance in the techniques used or images taken.”
I feel Bryant’s eyes boring into mine, and I can just imagine what he must be thinking. He probably wants to see the photos but that will never happen.
“I see,” she says, making another note. “And Dean Blackman, when comparing the marks given to Ms. Nelson with the rest of the class grades, did you find any discrepancies?”
“No, Professor Kingsley. The student’s work was of a very high standard but it was in line with that of three other students in the class who scored similar or higher overall grades.”
She nods but doesn’t say anything, making more notations and not giving any indication as to whether anything we have said will have a positive or negative bearing on Ronnie.
I glance over at Joey, whose lips quirk slightly before he looks back to the woman who holds Ronnie’s immediate future in her hands. A flash of guilt cuts through me. I should have told Ronnie what was going on and about this meeting. She would’ve wanted to be here to defend the two of us. I know she’s not going to be a happy camper when I confess to wanting to protect her and deal with the issue on her behalf.
In my defense, it’s her best friend’s bachelorette weekend, and Ronnie has been looking forward to the Las Vegas trip for weeks now.
“Okay,” Professor Kingsley says, grabbing everyone’s attention. I hold my breath, knowing this is a make-or-break moment. “I’ve listened to and read everything yourself and Dean Blackman have stated on record, and looked over Ms. Nelson’s spotless academic record. I’ve also taken into account the fact that this situation is unlikely to happen again, given Ms. Nelson’s forthcoming completion of studies.”
My heart stops dead in my chest. She said forthcoming, that’s positive right?
“I see no reason to continue an investigation into this matter, and I’m happy to close this file at this juncture with no further action required.”
I let out a huge sig
h of relief, unable to stop the relieved smile covering my face. I turn to Bryant, who looks equally pleased, and Joey, who simply winks at me again before standing. Bryant and I join him, with each of us stepping forward and shaking Professor Kingsley’s hand. “I’m looking forward to having you on our permanent staff, Jaxon.”
“Thank you. I can promise you, this will never happen again.”
“Good to hear.”
There’s just one thing bugging me. “Professor Kingsley, if I may, can I ask what will happen to the student who made this complaint?”
Her brows bunch together. “The student—whose identity must remain anonymous—has established a history of unacceptable behavior, and this is not the first complaint that has been made that has not required any further action. I can assure you that you will not be seeing her around campus any longer as her continued enrolment has been declined.”
Oh, thank God.
“Dean Blackman has advised you’ve accepted his employment offer. I’m glad we’ll be seeing you in the fall, Professor Cook.” With that, she smiles and I turn around and leave the office, following behind Bryant and Joey.
Once we reach the corridor outside, I take a moment to let all of the tension I’d been holding completely leave my body. Bry walks up and cups my shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze. I’m so relieved but also nervous.
“Hey Joey, can you tell me Ronnie’s grade so I can give her the good news? It might help lessen the blow when she nails me to the wall for leaving her out of all this.”
“She got an A minus. And for the record, I find flowers, jewelry, or both go a long way in earning forgiveness.”
I arch my brow. “Have you met Ronnie?”
He chuckles. “No. But to handle you, she must be a real firecracker. I look forward to getting acquainted with the woman who turned your world on its head.”
I open my mouth to speak. “Maybe it was me who—”
Both Bry and Joey’s eyes widen before they burst out laughing.
“That’s a good one, Jax. But even you know that’s bullshit. She’s got you wound so tight around her, it’s a wonder she can still breathe,” Bry says, still chuckling.
“And there’s no other place I’d rather be.”
“Not even Vegas?” he says, mirroring my quirked brow.
“Fuck yeah. Let’s go.”
“Have fun, boys,” Joey says, moving backward. “And Jax, I look forward to hearing how you groveled your way back into Veronica’s good graces.” His grin is huge as he gives us a short wave before turning around and walking away.
I look at my twin brother. “So, Vegas? Tonight?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“I’ve just got one more thing I have to do.”
He narrows his gaze. “Care to share?”
“I’ll tell you on the way. But this is one meeting I’m definitely not going to miss.”
“Now I’m curious,” he says.
“As I said, I’ll explain on the way.”
He shrugs. “Whatever you say, brother. As long as we make it in time for drinks and golf, Vegas style, I don’t care what we do.”
“Let’s go then.”
Ronnie
Jax and I didn’t exactly do much talking last night. After two orgasms for me, and one for Jax—courtesy of my best reverse-cowgirl moves—I was out for the count.
When the bright light of the early Vegas sun shines through the open curtains, searing pain stabs my brain, serving as a reminder as to why bachelorette parties are a one-time thing. I try to move toward the edge of the mattress, but Jax’s arms around my waist hold me captive.
“Where are you going?” he murmurs sleepily, his lips pressing softly against the back of my neck.
“Bathroom and Tylenol, in that order,” I whisper.
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t quite hear you,” he says, loudly, sounding like a herd of elephants in my head.
I drive my elbow back, getting him in the ribs, gaining my freedom from his hold.
“Ouch,” he says, chuckling. “No need to beat me up.”
I turn around, putting my hands on my hips and glaring down at him, not caring that I’m as naked as the day I was born. “No need to be mean to your girlfriend when she’s got the hangover from hell.”
He rolls over onto his back and holds his arms up in surrender. “Point taken, Barbie. Now keep those elbow weapons of yours to yourself.”
I narrow my eyes and point my finger at him. “Then don’t give me a reason to use them again.” My warning loses its power when my lips start twitching before I’ve even finished giving it.
He quirks a brow. “So, toilet and Tylenol?”
“Yes,” I say, spinning on my heels and running toward the bathroom and shutting the door behind me.
Ten minutes later, after adding in a shower to help me feel at least semi-human again, I walk back into the bedroom wearing a towel. My smile widens when I find Jax still in bed, the white sheet riding deliciously low on his hips, and those amber eyes of his locked on mine.
Except there’s something in them that isn’t all sunshine and roses. No, there’s a little bit of unease there. His teeth worrying his bottom lip is another dead giveaway that not all is good in our hotel-room bubble, and now my plan for morning sex is going to be delayed so that I can get to the bottom of why he doesn’t seem his normal carefree self.
I sit down on the mattress and hook my knees underneath me. “What’s wrong?”
He rolls onto his side and moves closer, wrapping an arm around my legs and resting his other hand on my hip. “I’ve got a few things to tell you,” he says, his gaze locked with mine.
“Okay. So wanna tell me, so I don’t think worst-case scenario?”
His brows bunch together. “Like what?”
“Like you meeting a flight attendant named GI Josephine on the way here, and you’re running away with her?”
His hands still, his eyes going wide before he drops his head back and barks out a laugh. After I enjoy the show for a while, he looks at me again, his hand rubbing slow circles on my bare thigh. His eyes drop to the now parted towel, his jaw clenching before he lifts his gaze.
When he doesn’t say anything, I cover his hand with mine, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Pull off the Band-Aid, Jax.”
He swallows hard but doesn’t make me wait any longer. “So first, the reason I had to stay behind had to do with both me and you.”
“Okay…”
“The final grades for the entire intro to photography class were being held back due to a complaint made about me showing favoritism toward you.”
I freeze for barely a second as his words sink in before I explode, jumping off the bed and out of reach. I walk toward the bathroom. The old Ronnie—the pre-Jax, pre-breaking free me—would lock herself behind the door and hide her emotions until she was composed enough to come back out again. But that’s not the me I am now. This version of Ronnie stops halfway across the room, spins back around, and storms to the edge of the bed.
“Look, beautiful. I’m sorry—”
“You said first.”
His head jerks back and his eyes widen even farther. “What?”
“You said ‘first.’ As in, more than one thing. You only said the first thing. What’s the rest?”
“Sit down. I’m gonna tell you everything.”
“Damn right you are, Jaxon Cook. But first, you’re going to tell me everything, then you start the mammoth job of groveling.”
“Mammoth, huh?” he asks, his lips quirking, which is normally hot, but not in my current state of mind.
“Huge,” I say holding my arms apart to show him just how big we’re talking here.
Of course, I’m probably being completely dramatic, and I don’t even know what he did or didn’t do. Maybe I should sit down—away from him—and actually give him a chance to explain.
I lift my hands up, not caring if my towel decides to take a flying leap. I’m too annoyed to care. Maybe it wou
ld be the best kind of punishment to make him confess his sins while staring at me naked. It would serve him right.
I tighten my towel, deciding against giving him a show right now and take a seat in the chair facing the mattress and the end of the bed, crossing my legs and not missing the way his eyes track the movement. When I clear my throat, his gaze jumps back to meet mine.
“You were saying,” I prompt.
“Damn. Is it wrong that you might be even hotter when you’re pissed off?”
I actually growl. “Jax…”
He holds his hands up in surrender, but the grin that was there when we first woke up is now nowhere to be found. “Okay. Can I at least touch you while I talk?”
“I’ll take your request under advisement,” I say, matter-of-factly. I cross my arms over my chest and lift one eyebrow expectantly.
“Damn, you’re a tough nut to crack.”
“It won’t be my nuts getting cracked in a minute.”
He visibly winces, and I notice his legs closing slightly under the sheet. “Okay. I’ll talk. Just don’t threaten the boys again.” When he gets no further reaction from me, he sighs and pulls himself up so he’s leaning against the headboard. “A complaint was made against me, accusing me of favoritism toward you. I didn’t want to worry you if your grade was delayed, but it wasn’t until Wednesday night, when Joey called me, that I knew that this complaint was the reason.”
“That’s who called you when you went outside last night?”
He nods and keeps going. “I changed my flight, and Bryant offered to come with me to be my witness. We met with the vice president for academic affairs and Joey yesterday. After hearing from Joey, and then me, and being told about everything we’d done to avoid any semblance of nepotism, she was more than happy to close the file and not proceed any further with the complaint. So now the grades have been released and Joey gave you an A-minus, which means—”
“I passed?” My shoulders slump as I release a huge breath. I did it.
“Yeah, beautiful. I never had a doubt,” he says, his eyes blazing with pride, and it’s all for me. Jax didn’t help me; he had my back and let me fly all by myself. Could I love this man any more than I already do?
