Page 11 of Bachelor

Tyler looked visibly relieved as he hiked his backpack over his shoulder. “Thanks, Professor.” He pursed his lips, then looked me up and down. “Can I ask you something?”

“Uh, sure.”

“How old are you?”

“How old do I look?”

“I’m just asking because... You did everything I wanted to do. Every program, course of study, adventure... And you just pulled a two hundred and fifty pound wall of meat off me.”

I bit back on a chuckle. “I’m thirty-three. You have plenty of time to become an archeologist. You’ll do it, too. I know it. As for Christian, well, I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

He gave me a sincere smile that brightened his face, but then it faltered, and he nervously asked, “What was Christian talking about? What you did last semester?”

“I don’t know,” I lied. “I think he just likes making threats.”

Chapter Five

Whitney

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“HOW DID YOU ACCOMPLISHthis?” I asked Jessica as we walked arm in arm toward town.

Jessica shrugged, the two bottles of wine she had tucked in her bag clinking together as we trudged across snow and ice toward the main drag, where Bill’s bookshop lit up the street ahead of us. “I told Bill he needed to host a book club where the books aren’t all about philosophy and whatever the hell else he and his friends like to argue about. I wanted some romance, some action, some magic.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me, practically skipping as we neared the shop.

Jessica and I had started a fantasy series over Christmas break, and somehow she’d convinced Bill to read it, and he now he was hosting a book club once a month just for her. No books about philosophy allowed.

“Who’s going to be there?” I asked, pulling her to a stop.

“I think just us,” she replied, brushing her red hair out of her face. “Unless he convinced his friends to read it.”

“Well,” I breathed, relieved beyond measure, “sounds like a nice enough time. I can’t wait to hear Bill’s opinions on Fae wingspan.”

Jessica hooted with laughter as we entered the shop, a warm rush of air washing over us. Upstairs in the loft, music thrummed and fairy lights stretched across the ceiling, which illuminated the normally dark and dreary store.

Bill rested his elbows on the railing, beaming down at us, but mostly Jessica. “Fashionably late?”

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