Page 87 of Love Under Snowfall

He pictured her sitting in his class, front and center. Hands poised and ready to type, amber eyes challenging him as he prepared to pepper her with impossible questions. Remembered the chill of snow and the flush of anger pinkening her cheeks as she tried to out hike him during the snowshoe excursion. Flashes of honey golden waves sliding through his fingers and the headyscent of lavender and eucalyptus invaded his memories. She’d been so much more than he’d ever thought to give her credit for.

“—could do it. But you both proved me wrong.”

He’d missed what McCaffery was saying. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Francesca Miller. I hadn’t thought she’d be capable of surviving your class. But you must be doing something right because if you can teach an MSW student law—without the basics of civil procedure—well, let’s just say you earned your tenure.” McCaffery had come around the desk to clap him on the back, to congratulate not only Benjamin but himself in his clever scheme.

The scuttle of dread clawed up Benjamin’s neck. He’d wanted tenure for so long and he’d been convinced all along that he deserved it. But by the dean’s own admission, it took the success of an interdisciplinary stunt for the older man to go to bat for him in front of the board.

Benjamin made Dean McCaffery look good and in return he tossed a bone to the lab rat that had made it happen.

“What do you say we get your papers signed and dropped off with human resources? I’m sure you are excited to get your pay bump as soon as possible.” The charred laughter scratched at Benjamin’s ears, reminding him of the snide way his father used to laugh after he’d won particularly life-crushing settlements for his stupidly rich clients. After he’d helped to destroy lives of those with shallow pockets and limited power.

She wasn’t like us.

We’re strong. Resilient. I’m proud of you for making something of yourself.

Just like your old man.

The dean returned to his chair and pulled out a thick manila folder. “Sit down, son. I’ve got it all right here.”

With eyes flitting between his boss’s drawnbrows, the pile of papers on his desk and back, Benjamin inched toward the door. This wasn’t right. All of this felt very, very not right.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out between thick swallows. “I need a minute. There’s something I—”

The raised voice from the office followed Benjamin out the door, but he didn’t stop. Not when he exited the building nor when he reached the edge of campus. His feet quickened, and while dress shoes weren’t exactly conducive for such activities, he succumbed to the urge and ran.

Chapter forty-seven

A few days later, Seattle: Frankie

The cuff links sat heavily in Frankie’s jacket pocket as she marched through campus toward the law building. Having a few grand worth of accessories clanging together in a small envelope at her side made her antsy, paranoid even. She’d never been mugged, but Murphy’s Law dictated that today would be the day, what with her carrying around an entire month’s rent in pawnable goods. Footsteps a couple feet behind had her throwing guarded glances over her shoulder. She released a sigh, doubting the middle-aged guy in tweed and the chipper young woman bounding around him like an excitable chihuahua were planning to jump her.

Climbing a few steps beside wooden arbors covered in dormant lilac vines, she reached the law school courtyard and entered through the glass doors. Students meandered around, talking quietly in groups. The ensuing murmurs hovered around her, creating a sense of safety. More witnesses inside than out on the open sidewalks.

She’d spent the last few weeks with her family, making up for time she’d lost being married to her schoolwork during fall quarter. She’d also chipped in quite a bit at her family’s business. Since Jonathan and Lucy were on their honeymoon in Belize, it had been all hands on deck at Off the Beaten Adventures. Frankie was glad for the distraction. And in no time, her attention was redirected away from the misguided dalliances with a certainprofessor of law.

Misguided dalliances?Oh god, she’d spent too much time with that man.

The initial sting of Benjamin leaving cut deep, but she wasn’t deluded enough to think a few rounds of sex would have kept him bound to her side—despite how toe-curling their interactions had been. The distance helped, as did the flow of activity she took on in support of the newlyweds’ absence.

But now, with every step leading her closer and closer to his office door, her heart pounded more ferociously in her chest. The twenty-minute walk to the building had given her ample time to fantasize about how things might go down. Would he pretend nothing happened, reverting to his original cold Professor Prick persona? Would he address the elephant in the room and offer an apology? Would he leap over his desk, slam the door shut behind her, and crush his lips to hers? Her mutinous lady parts tingled in want.

“Quiet you,” she murmured downward, ignoring querying glances from a couple students in the hushed office hallway.

The scenario she hoped for most (logically speaking) was that his office would be empty. In theory, it was the most likely, because after creeping on the online registration platform, she’d managed to learn that the family law class was beginning at that very moment. And since he was allergic to being late . . .

Her heart and vagina hoped things would play out differently. When had her libido become such a traitor?

Case in point: Clint had invited her out last week for New Year’s Eve. It seemed like a great plan. The best way to getovera guy was to . . . well, you know. However, the moment he leaned in for a kiss, she turned her cheek, shuddering at the indescribable cringe she felt deep to her core. Images of Benjamin, with his impossibly blue eyes and mussed black hair, hovering over her invaded her mind.

Goddammit, Francesca. You’re ruining me.

Right, who ruined who?

Anyway, Clint called her out on it—in the most respectful and concern-filled way possible of course—then took her home immediately after. She’d apologized to him, mentally cursing Benjamin in the process, then watched Sheriff Howards’ truck drive away. As his taillights disappeared around the corner, she knew that would be the last time he’d come sniffing around her. Not that she could blame him; a dude can only be politely turned down so many times before he moves on to other interests.

Room 310 loomed before her, unassuming yet potentially holding something powerful behind it. But even if he was in there, it more than likely wouldn’t end happily. But maybe she’d get closure and finally shed the mental chastity belt she’d been wearing since the morning he’d left.

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