Page 55 of Her Saint

“I’m free right now,” Briar offers. “Why don’t we grab a coffee here on campus?”

Professor Molester scowls. “Oh, Briar, come on. There’s no harm in two colleagues discussing literature over a glass of wine.” He shrugs, dropping his attention back to the stacks of pages before shuffling them together and heading for the door. “But maybe you’re not as serious about your future at Auburn as I thought.”

She glowers at his back, plotting his murder just as I am. “Tonight is fine. I could go for a glass of Merlot.”

Professor Molester turns back to her with a grin, and she manages a weak smile. “Excellent. See you tonight.”

I long for his blood on my hands, but he’s already out the door.

Looks like Briar and I are about to have our first date.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

BRIAR

The bar isdim and humming with hushed chatter, filled with the aroma of expensive cigars and gin. A place where wealthy old men bring their escorts, sugar babies, and trafficking victims. My feet itch to run in the other direction the instant I cross the threshold, but I clutch my purse tighter and follow him.

Dr. Barrett climbs up onto a stool, movements so feeble and unsteady, I’m bracing myself for him to fall and break a hip. I’d honestly rather spend the evening taking him to the hospital than getting drinks at the bar.

He orders two gin martinis on the rocks, and I clench my jaw. “Make mine a whiskey,” I call to the bartender. “Double.”

Dr. Barrett’s jaw ticks at my insolence, but he plasters a smile back on. “How is your semester going?”

“A little overwhelming.” That’s an understatement. I’m instructing two classes on my own, two workshops, and assisting with Dr. Barrett’s class, so more like instructing three classes entirely on my own. Not that he’s made any move to lighten my workload.

He gives a breezy chuckle. “Oh yes. The early days of assistant professorship. We all have to pay our dues.”

I grit my teeth because I shouldn’t have to manage the workload of two professors at a quarter of a tenured professor’s pay, but I assume he’s asked me here to celebrate his impending retirement. Maybe he’ll even give me a concrete date. “So what are your plans for retirement?”

He shrugs, directing his attention to the gin martinis that the bartender slides his way. “No idea. We’ve got plenty of time to make our plans.”

Warmth starts to crawl up the back of my neck. “Oh? I thought you’d be retiring at the end of next semester?”

He harrumphs. “No, my wife wouldn’t hear of it.”

I sputter into my whiskey. “You have a wife?”

He lifts a brow at me like I’m a moron. “I’ve been married for two decades.”

“Oh.” I put my whiskey down, terrified that I’m about to throw it in this asshole’s face.

He’s preying on his assistant professor while his wife is at home. Inviting me out for drinks and holding my dream job over my head to get me to do his bidding while he has no intention of retiring anytime soon.

What a piece of shit.

“Does your wife know where you are?”

He must misinterpret my tone because the corner of his mouth curves up. “I won’t tell her if you don’t.”

Tomorrow, I’m finding his wife and informing her about exactly what kind of man she’s married to. “Why wouldn’t you be able to tell her? I thought this was innocent drinks between colleagues.”

He leans closer, and I want to gag as his gaze rakes down my red top and down to my exposed thighs. “We both know you wouldn’t dress like that for a colleague.”

His hand lands on my knee and crawls up, squeezing my thigh.

I shove him off and jump down from my stool with a loud screech. The lecherous smile immediately falls off his face, and he glances around to see who’s witnessed our interaction. “Don’t dress like a slut if you don’t want to be treated like one,” he hisses.

Hot, angry tears blur my vision as I race for the ladies' room. Tears stream down my cheeks as I fumble for my phone to call Mack.

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