Page 22 of Love Under Snowfall

“I don’t know. I am so wiped and—”

“Tut tut tut,” he scolded her, holding up a hand to demand she stop. “You haven’t come to a single one of my shows since you’ve been in town. I’m beginning to think you didn’tlovemy performance like you claimed when you and Lucy drove over last Christmas. You don’t want to hurt my poor little feelings, do you?”

“I’d be a monster if I said no now, wouldn’t I?”

“Of the worst variety.” His eyes glimmered with his mischievous grin.

“Ok, ok. I’d be happy to watch you perform.” She attempted to run her fingers through her hair and frowned. “But, again, shower first.”

“Fabulous. You have plenty of time, I don’t go on ’til ten.”

Frankie smiled and nodded. Climbing off the bed, she headed to the bathroom to wash off the nap sweat. She hummed as she went, feeling a little high after the stressful morning and impromptu four hours of sleep.

“What time do you want to leave tomorrow?” she called down the short hallway to her roommate. She and Todd had planned to carpool to Leavenworth for Johnny and Lucy’s wedding.

“I refuse to do anything before noon,” he called back.

“Twelve-fifteen it is, then.”

A middle finger popped around Todd’s door frame, and Frankie snickered as she moseyed into the bathroom. The water took a while to warm up, and she perched on the edge of the tub to wait until it was ready to climb in. Thoughts about winter break,the wedding, and the last quarter skated through her mind until it snagged on an unwelcome image.

Professor Clark.

Nowtherewas a man she’d be glad to never see again. He made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want her in his precious family law class and did what he could to intimidate her into dropping the course. But little did he know, Frankie was too stubborn to bow out and make life easier for him. Eventually, she was able to match her professor, question for question. Yet he remained stiff and unyielding like he couldn't accept her success. He was cold and grumpy and intimidated the hell out of her in that classroom.

She assumed it would take a while for him to slip from her thoughts, but she was determined to make it happen. By the start of the winter quarter, Frankie would return clearheaded and prepared to focus on the new set of classes. Professor Clark and his imposing nature would be a distant memory.

Climbing from her rideshare just outside the Tackle Boxx, Frankie reveled in the damp winter air slipping over her cheeks. The driver had the heat cranked all the way up, treating Frankie like she must be an icicle despite her knee-length red dress, tights, and black peacoat. He couldn’t hear her requests to lower the temp over the loud thump of EDM blasting from his speakers. All that was missing from the “Prius Rave” were glowsticks and giant cans of energy drinks.

Frankie shut the back door and waved at the driver, who threw up a peace sign and darted seamlessly into traffic. Shechuckled and dug into her purse to find her ID and cash for the cover. She scurried, head down, toward the front door—

—and slammed into a brick wall.

Frankie tumbled to the ground, landing hard on one hip, with feet sprawled out in front of her. Blessedly, she hadn’t flashed anyone nearby because her flowy skirt stayed low around her thighs. Small miracles. The biting chill called attention to her point of impact. She rubbed her sore rump as a dull throb made itself known.

That's when a hand lowered into her field of view.

“This old trick again, Miss Miller?” A throaty chuckle curled around her like a warm blanket.

Frankie snapped her head up and caught a glimpse of absolute male perfection smirking down at her.

“Ah, Professor Clark.” She slapped his hand away and ambled to her feet. “Do you take pleasure in mowing unassuming students down or are you really that unaware of your abnormal size?”

“It would seem you are my only victim,” he assured—somewhat playfully?—with a hand placed across his heart. His blue eyes, almost black under the flickering streetlamp, perused her from head to toe until he pulled off his glasses and needlessly buffed them.

Frankie beamed, knowing full well how good she looked. If he was searching for judgmental satisfaction, he would find none of it there.

“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or offended.”

“The interpretation is entirely up to you.” When Frankie rolled her eyes—she so didn’t have the strength to deal with his particular brand of banter just then—he switched directions. “Actually, there was something I wanted to discuss with you—”

“Sorry, teach.” Frankie brushed past ProfessorClark. She marched toward the Tackle Boxx, its bright neon sign glowing like a lifesaving beacon. She threw a brief glance over her shoulder, hoping to catch the last scowl of his that she’d ever have to see. “But I’m not yours to torment anymore. Besides, I have someone waiting on me.”

Chapter thirteen

Saturday, 6 days until the wedding, Leavenworth: Frankie

Brrring. Brrring. Brrring.

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