Page 8 of Bookworm
He blinked with momentary confusion that morphed into irritation. “What are you talking about? We discussed this.”
“We did?”
“Yeah! For like an hour and a half when you called the library two nights ago.”
Wediscussed this.
Me and Adam… the night I called the Dartmouth library.
The ninety-eight minute phone call. I was talking withAdamthat night.
Is that how I got this gig? Because my stupid ex-boyfriend who I hadn’t spoken to in seven years felt bad for me and tossed me a lifeline?
This seriously couldn’t get any more humiliating.
Holy shit. I knew he’d gone to Dartmouth, of course. But that was years ago, for undergrad. I had no clue he was still there. “Are you… like, a PhD candidate or something?”
His face twisted. “I finished my dissertation last year,” he snapped. “As I told you on the phone.”
Oh God. Oh fucking fuckity fuck.
This was bad. I couldn’t remember our conversation from the other night because I was too damn drunk. I only knew whatDaphne had filled me in on and what the Dean had confirmed in an email to me the following day.
And I couldn’t admit any of that to Adam without him potentially walking away from this whole deal leaving me with massive debt and a $7,000 litter box for Jules.
I cleared my throat. “I guess I thought I would be dealing directly with Dean Walters since that’s who had confirmed everything with me via email yesterday.”
I held my breath, waiting for his response.
Finally, his stony expression softened, just the slightest bit.
“Yeah. I, um, tried to get Dean Walters as well as the head of my department to take the lead with you… but since the fire was my fault, they said it was up to me to fix this mess.”
Fire. What fucking fire? What was he talking about?
“Never in a million years did I think Harper Meyer would be my knight in shining armor, coming to save the day.” He gave a self-deprecating chuckle that was so familiar, it nearly cracked my chest right open. Then, he shoved his fingers through his hair, raking it back from his forehead, just like he used to do nervously in high school, too.
I gulped, not really sure how to respond. I hadn’t touched Adam in seven years. Not since the morning after I’d lost my virginity to him when I gave him a vacant kiss goodbye.
Reaching out, I patted his arm, awkwardly. “It’s gonna be okay,” I said quietly. “I’m really good at my job. I haven’t lost a client yet.”
Technically that was true, even if I was omitting the part about Dartmouth being my first ever client.
A smile ticked up the corner of his mouth and he gestured toward my bag, silently offering to help with it.
I lifted Jules’ carrier off of my luggage and in a swift motion, Adam lifted it like it was weightless, dropping it gently into the trunk of his SUV.
Muscles strained against the fibers of his thin cashmere sweater. Holy crap. Gone was the teenage boy who was all gangly limbs and goofy proportions.
This Adam was all man. It was like someone had taken the statue of the Adam I once knew and carved more and more into it, chiseling, defining. I could still see remnants of the high school Adam I knew. The slope of his nose was the same. The full, pillowy lips. But the cut of his biceps, the sharp lines of his muscles were thicker, broader. The lines around his eyes and mouth, deeper and more distinguished. He was all man now. And I had to squint to recognize the face of the boy I once knew.
“I owe you one, Harper. I really do,” he said, gently shutting the trunk and crossing around to the driver’s side of his car. I opened the backseat, sliding my carry-on bag and Jules inside as he finished his thought. “... Even if you are just doing it because you feel guilty.”
I froze, bent across the back seat, my spine going stiff. “Excuse me?”
He blinked in surprise as though he had no concept of how insulting that last statement was. “I just mean, whatever your motives, I appreciate it.”
“No,” I shook my head, and slammed the backseat door shut before I slid into the passenger side and buckled up beside him. “You said thatIfeel guilty. What the hell do I have to be guilty about?”
