Page 9 of Whispers of Wisteria
However, the way he watched me was becoming increasingly disturbing.
“Good girl.” He put the bottle on my vanity before picking up the clean sheets. “Now go take a bath while I clean things up out here.”
Okay,thiswas entirely unnecessary. After all, while menstruation was a natural bodily function, it was still rather gross; plus, it was more than a bit embarrassing to think thatDamenwas going to clean up after me. “You don’t need to—”
He stepped forward, pressing his finger to my mouth. “Will youpleasejust let me take care of you for once?”
Just once? Was he insane?
Didn’t he realize how much he’d taken care of me already?
Despite that, I didn’t protest as he pressed his hands against my lower back and gently nudged me toward the bathroom door.
“Are you sure you can stay?”I asked as I ducked under Damen’s arm and stepped into the campus coffee shop.
It was still early, but a good number of students were already present. I was lucky my favorite spot remained unclaimed.
“Dr. Stephens might have work for you this morning,” I reminded him. “You should go right there.”
“Work can wait,” he said.
I frowned. Could it really? Dr. Stephens was a no-nonsense sort. But as Damen followed me into the room and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, I couldn’t help but not be concerned about it either.
“Let me help you get settled in,” Damen said. “I’ll get you a coffee before I go. He’ll understand.”
I doubted that. It was only yesterday that Dr. Stephens was bragging about fae having inhuman levels of pain tolerance. He would surely be ashamed of my weakness.
Besides, there was no excuse that Damen could give for his absence that wouldn’t be embarrassing for me.
“Sit,” he commanded, touching my elbow and leading me into a seat. He was still speaking in that particular way that sent warmth up my neck, and he ignored the stares from the other patrons as he pulled out my chair. “I’ll get it.”
“But—” I began.
Did he even know what I drank? I wasn’t sure he’d paid that much attention. Before I could get his attention, he’d left for the back of the line, nose already buried into his monstrosity of a phone.
Still, this was nice, and I liked the attention. Additionally, thanks to his efforts, I had begun to feel like myself again.
But only God could save him if he returned with one of those espresso-spiked calamities he called a latte.
My phone vibrated, and I pulled it out. The tiny charms dangled against my wrist as I peered at the screen.
A text fromDamen?
I peered at him—the man was pointedly ignoring me now.
Why was he texting me? We were ten feet away from each other!
Damen
Have I told you that you are a vision this morning? It’s almost like you dressed up this way just for me. If I had a rose for every beautiful thing about you, I’d be walking in my garden forever.
I lowered the phone slightly and narrowed my eyes at the man. Was he having a stroke?
Hewas the one who’d picked out my outfit: a simple dress decorated with ribbons. And while it might be a bit heavier on the lace than my usual, I wasn’t complaining.
We seemed to have similar tastes in clothes.
Ormaybehe was trying to text someone else and sent the message to me instead.
