“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Listen, you’ll find out and you’ll be thankful. Okay? A girl like me and a guy like you, we don’t make sense. And now you’re a professor here? Come on, Bry— Professor Marshall. Think about this.”
I hate that she corrects herself. I love the way my name sounds on her lips.
“Don’t you think I deserve to make the decision for myself?” I ask her as I study the brown beanie, which is so ugly, but the color brings out the blue in her eyes, so I’m learning to love it quickly.
“No. I promise. I’m doing you a favor, Professor Marshall.”
“Stop calling me that,” I say, keeping the level of my voice low so other students can’t hear me.
“Why? That is who you are. That is who you are to me. You’re my professor. That’s all.”
“That is not all,” I hiss.
She turns to walk away, but I hurry in front of her path and cut her off. “Profess—”
“No. Don’t. I can’t believe you’re here.” I run my hand through my hair, then rub my palm down my face. “You can’t say you aren’t stunned.”
“Oh, I’m stunned stupid,” she mumbles. “The chances of this…” She shakes her head and her brown hair dances over her shoulders. “Out of all the places you could be. You’re here. I wanted to be Jessica in Mexico. That’s it. Okay? I’m a memory.”
“You are someone I have not been able to forget. Tell me you haven’t thought of me, of us, every second since you’ve been back from vacation. Tell me you haven’t…” I invade her space until I can smell the lingering coffee on her breath. I want to taste. “Tell me you haven’t dreamed of me and I’ll leave you alone forever.”
She doesn’t say anything. She keeps her eyes focused over my shoulder, and I see the blue irises turn glassy with tears.
“That’s what I thought.”
“We can’t,” she whispers again.
“If you switch classes then we don’t have to worry about it.”
She inhales a deep breath, and I thought she’d be relieved, but a tear falls down her cheek instead. “You’ll find out soon enough. You’ll hear why we can never be together. People like you, people like me, we don’t mix. Sure, in another world, in another place like Mexico is fine because no one knows us there. The only thing we can ever be is a vacation.”
“Bullshit, Jessi—Abigale,” I correct myself.
She shoves her backpack strap up her shoulder and backs away from me. “Goodbye,” she says,
I watch, stunned, as she marches off, head bowed. She gives me one last troubled look over her shoulder before yanking that god awful beanie she’s wearing down some more. I throw my arms out and let out a laugh.
She’s right. What are the fucking chances of this? There is no way in hell this is an accident. This is fate.
But her stubbornness is going to get in the way of that.
This isn’t the end.
She’s my Mexico. A chance of living in a vacation forever.
I’m not going to give up.
Wrong side of the tracks or not.
Student or not.
I know I’m going to chase the hell of her until she is mine.
Chapter Three
Abby
I barely managed to make it through the rest of my classes after being rattled to the core from seeing Bryce. As if him being my teacher isn’t enough, I did a quick search of Bryce Marshall and discovered even more disturbing facts. It was the surname that triggered alarm bells. As it turns out, my Bryce from Cancun, Professor Marshall, is no other than the mayor’s son.
I’d laughed hysterically in a bathroom stall at the thought of a Knight and the filthy rich prince of Oak Valley being together. The thought still makes me want to dissolve into hysterical chuckles and then cry, because I still want him so bad.
Groaning, I bang my head repeatedly against the column of lockers in the employee’s lounge. My shift at the diner starts in five minutes. I need to get my shit together. Maybe if I hit my head hard enough, I’ll shake my attraction to Bryce out of it along with the hot memories I have of him.
“Do I even want to know?”
I stop abusing my poor forehead to glance at Charlie, who just walked through the door. She’s tying her apron around her waist, over the short royal blue uniform dress.
“Nope, and I wouldn’t tell you.”
She frowns. “Well, now I want to know.”
I consider telling her the crazy tale of running into the hot guy I kissed on vacation. We’ve become pretty tight and Charlie is a stand-up girl, a good person, just like her father. But I can’t tell her. No one can know, not even Lucy.
“It’s… the usual. Daddy issues.” It isn’t a complete lie. I have been thinking about my dad and it’s been stressing me out.
Sympathy softens Charlie’s features. “Have you been to see him?”
“Not lately.” Visits to my dad have become less frequent over the last year. It’s too depressing seeing him in that orange jumpsuit and having to talk to him behind that glass. I hate it. And I’m still mad at him. “He did call Lucy and me for Christmas.”
“I’m sorry, Abbs.”
“Don’t be. I’m fine.” One of the things I hate with a passion is anyone feeling sorry for me. “Let’s get to work before old man Denton finds us chatting back here.”
Charlie rolls her eyes. “That man needs the stick removed from up his ass.”
I shush her. Sure, Harold Denton can be a dick. The diner’s owner is uncouth, miserable and has the worst attitude problem, but he was the only one willing to give me a chance. Having the surname Knight while trying to find a job on the better side of town wasn’t working out. I begged for this job and I was given a chance. I’ll always be grateful to Harry.
I threw myself into work, only taking a break to check up on Lucy. She just started working at the only convenience store on our side of town as an after school part-time gig. With Dad locked up, paying college tuition next year is looking a little dim. She says she doesn’t mind taking a year off to work and save up some more so we’ll see how it goes.
“Well, the money won’t make itself,” I sigh, taking the notepad in hand and then click the top of the pen to get ready to go to my section and take orders.
“Let me know if you need anything. I’m always here for you.” Charlie squeezes my arm in reassurance, and I give her a soft smile that doesn’t reach my eyes.
The last thing I want to think about right now is my dad.
I walk toward an old couple sitting at a booth. They are holding hands across the table and for a split second I think of Bryce. I shake the thought out of my head and plaster on a smile. “Hi, my name is Abby, I’ll be your waitress this evening. Can I start you guys with something to drink?” I ask.
“I’ll take a diet coke,” the woman says while she reads the menu.
“And I’ll take a coffee, black. Can you bring me water with lemon too, please?” her husband asks.
“I’ll be right back with that,” I tell them.
They are dressed up. The man has on a button up short-sleeve shirt tucked in and she is wearing a cute lilac pantsuit. It looks like she got her hair done too. It looks fresh and poufy. Like a white cotton ball. She has big amethyst earrings clipped to her lobes and shoes that remind me of what grandma’s wear to church.
They are happy.
I want that.
With a sigh, I grab their drinks and make my rounds.
It stays busy all night and the tips are decent, so I keep my head up and think about girl’s trip I need to save for.
My shift is almost over, and I’m dead on my feet. I can’t even sleep when I get home because I already have some reading to do. Charlie was right, I am a nerd. I don’t have to go as hard as I do with the studying but I can’t help myself. I’ve always been extra hard on myself when it comes to school. I just have to do well and get out of here.
It’s almost midnight, the end o
f my shift. Denton’s Place is an all-night diner, so we still have late night eaters coming in. Charlie took off three hours ago. Now that school has started again, she doesn’t do as many hours. She has her father to help her out. I don’t have that same luxury. There’s no one to help with expenses and keeping a roof over mine and my sister’s head.
The bell over the door signals an arrival, but I continue wiping tables. Angie will take care of whoever it is. She’s just arrived for the night shift.
“Ahem! Can a guy get something to eat around here?”
The familiar voice sends a delightful shiver up my spine. My entire body goes still. Even my heart stops for a millisecond. “You have got to be kidding me,” I whisper.
Slowly, I turn around. Bryce is leaned against the counter, wearing a small smile. His coat is hanging open and it seems he’s only wearing a v-neck sweater underneath. Either he loves the cold or he’s crazy. Still, he looks amazing...and that annoys me. Why do I have to be so attracted to the man? If I could just get over the way he makes my heart flutter, the easier it will be to ignore him. There’s no sign of Angie, so she must still be around back. I have no choice but to serve him. Throwing the wet cloth onto a table, I sigh and make my way to him.
“Are you stalking me?”
His eyes twinkled with amusement. “Is that how you greet customers?”
Teeth clenched, I bite out, “Just ones that won’t leave me alone.”
Bryce blinks―he looks a little too innocent― and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Can’t a guy get something to eat without being accused of stalking? I can go elsewhere.”
Glaring at him with suspicion, I make my way around the counter and plaster on a smile. “Good evening, sir. I’ve never seen your face in here before. Ever.” Because why would a Marshall be slumming it in a diner? “Nevertheless, can I help you?”
Taking a seat on a stool, he rests his arms on the counter and leans toward me. A little too close. Our faces are inches apart. My breath hitches, and I have to gulp down my spit to moisten my suddenly dry throat.
“You know, you were much nicer when we met on that beach. I miss Jessica from Vegas.”
Sucking in a sharp breath, I ignore the hurt that causes. I don’t even know why I’m hurt.
Maybe because you like him and you want him to like the real you, idiot.
Ugh. My subconscious can be so snarky sometimes.
“I’m kidding,” he says with a frown. His eyes move over my face. I like that he looks at me like that. As if he wants to commit every angle of my features to memory. He’d watched me with the same intensity when we first met. No has ever looked at me like that before.
I avert my gaze. “What can I get you?”
Bryce hangs his head and releases a long puff of air. Looking up, he rubs his chin and laughs. “Alright, I don’t actually want anything. I am stalking you… but not in a creepy way.”
I feel a smile threatening to emerge and fight it back. The warmth spreading in my chest is so pathetic. I hate that I’m flattered. “Stalking can never be not creepy.”
His smile melts the ice block I’m trying to erect around my heart. Damn him. “You make a valid point. I wouldn’t have to resort to stalking if a certain someone would just be an adult and talk to me.”
I scoff. “Are you trying to flatter me or insult me? Make up your mind.” Okay, so I did run off like a child, and I was incredibly rude. It was for his own good.
“I’m trying to win you.”
I start to back away. “Don’t talk like that. And this isn’t a competition. I’m not a trophy. You...you don’t know me and believe me when I say, you don’t want to know me.”
“Then give me a chance to get to know you, Abigale Knight.”
My heart jolts. Panic sets in at the thought that he possibly knows what that last name actually means in this town. “My shift is over. I’ll get the waitress on duty. She’ll take care of you.”
For the second time, I run away from him... like a child.
“Abigale. Get back here.”
I hear a string of muttered expletives as I hurry to the back to grab my things.
I don’t know why I thought running off again would get Bryce off my back. Stupid me. Lucy has the car for the night, so I couldn’t speed off and leave him in my dust. I have to walk to the bus stop. A sleek silver car that looks like it costs more than my entire life crawls behind me. I know it’s Bryce. I have to give the man credit for his persistence.
Sighing, I stop and turn to glare at the car. It stops beside me and the tinted front window rolls down.
“Alright, I’m definitely stalking you now.”
He has the nerve to smile and God help me; I smile right back. I let out a laugh. “Oh, my God. If I get in and talk to you, then will you leave me alone?”
He shrugs. “I’m not making any promises.”
With a resigned groan, I open the door and slide in. It feels so warm. So good. I let out a content sigh. My ass was literally freezing off in the short uniform dress and stockings. Sniffing, I bury my nose in the collar of my coat. Bryce adjusts something on the dashboard and the leather seat heats up. I almost groan my pleasure and gratitude.
“Better?” He asks.
“Uh huh.” I shove my hands into my coat pockets and soak up the heat.
“Where are you going?”
“Bus stop.”
“I mean, where do you live in west Oak Valley.”
I know that’s what he meant, but I can’t let him take me home. “You can’t take me home, it’s too much out of your way.”
“Well, I am stalking you the least I can do is give you a lift home no matter how far it is.”
“You just don’t quit, do you?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve never quit anything in my life. Not even piano lessons, which I was forced to take and detested. I tough things out, Abigale, even running behind defiant women... one in particular.” He drives on but keeps the speed at a crawl.
“You don’t expect me to believe that you stick to one woman?”
“What gives you the idea that I don’t?”
“You’re wealthy. Your type is almost always playboys.”
He lets out a roar of laughter. “My, you’re delightful.” Giving me a quick glance, his lips twist into a smug grin. “You Googled me, didn’t you?”
“No… yes. So what if I did? What’s the smug look for?”
“It means you’re interested. In me.”
“You’re so full of yourself,” I mutter.
“It’s okay. I’m interested in you too, Abigale.”
Fully warmed up, I cross my arms over my chest and glare at his profile. “Are you always so arrogant?”
“Yup, we rich folks, usually are.”
He flashes me a toothy grin. The laugh I try to hold back comes out and floats around his fancy car.
Chapter Four
Bryce
I’ve never heard a sweeter sound. Her laughter surrounds me like a blanket, warming me on this frosty night. My abdominal muscles actually clench at the sounds. I take another quick look at her. Her features have softened and her eyes twinkle. She’s less guarded and… beautiful. There’s the girl I met and kissed on the beach.
“At least you own it,” she says. “Call me Abby.”
“Abby.” I smile. “Does this mean we’re friends?”
“No. Everyone calls me that.”
I sigh. “You have got to be the most difficult woman, I’ve ever met.”
She looks at me and grins. Now, she’s the smug one.
“Even though we aren’t friends… yet. I’m taking you home. It’s midnight, and it’s freezing. I won’t take no for an answer. Remember, I’m arrogant.”
This time she doesn’t laugh. The troubled expression that appears too often is back. “You know who I am.”
It isn’t quite a question. There’s a warning tone to her words. I could pretend not to know what she means, but what’s the point? I not onl
y got her full name and tracked her down, but I discovered that her family’s reputation is less than stellar in Oak Valley. It’s her father really, but I can guess how everyone else holds her responsible for his actions. I’ve lived here all my life. I know how some of the town’s people are.
“I do.”
“Then why won’t you leave me alone?” She sounds exasperated, and it makes me smile.
“I’ve always been the type to go after what I want.”
“You can’t always get everything you want.”
“I can certainly try.”
Her sigh sounds tired, resigned. She stares ahead for a few seconds, then she turns to me and gives me her address. Satisfied, I make sure my triumphant smile doesn’t surface. I don’t want to risk annoying her. Pressing the gas, I head for the west side.
“Do you always take the bus home this late?”
“Not all the time. My sister needed the car tonight.”
“How old is your sister?”
“Eighteen.” She’s staring out her window, seemingly far away.
“How old are you?”
Silence. I don’t think she’s going to answer, but she turns to me with raised brows. “Too young for you.”
My brows dip. I give her a fleeting glance and return my attention to the road. “Why do you think that?”
“You’re a professor. You’re probably ancient.”
The teasing note in her voice makes me laugh. Like I said, she’s delightful. “How old do you think I am?”
She eyes me with open amusement. “Hmmm… thirty something?”
“Twenty something. Seven to be exact.”
“I’m nineteen.”
She’s watching me with narrowed eyes. What does she expect me to say? The age difference does nothing to lessen my attraction. “In other words, not too young for me.”
Facing forward, she sighs quietly and leans her head against the window. I remain quiet to leave her alone with her thoughts. I get the impression that Abby Knight carries the weight of the world on her shoulders when she doesn’t have to.
The Professor Page 3
