“No,” I choked. Not because the answer wasn’t true, but because I choked down the offer I wanted to make her.
“What if you really…really wanted to.”
All humor evaporated from the room, her question flooding every square inch with too much tension for anything else. Voices echoed down the hall, but it was as if they couldn’t reach us in the bubble we’d created. My hands fisted the arms of my chair, ready to stand and see how serious she was. I wanted to stand in front of her and toe the line. I wanted to see if she’d meet me halfway. I wanted to see if this was all in my mind.
My arms flexed, my body just leaving the chair when the door flung open and in walked Dr. Coven, the head of our department. Her shrewd eyes took in Arabella, leaning back atop my desk, and me leaning back in my chair.
“Dr. Deander. Am I interrupting?” Any heat I’d felt vanished at the chill in her voice. Arabella looked as relaxed as ever.
“Not at all,” I managed in a mostly normal voice. “I was just here picking up papers before taking my niece around campus to check it out. She’s attending this fall.”
Her whole demeanor relaxed as if finally breathing for the first time. “Oh. Good.”
“Arabella, this is Dr. Coven. Dr. Coven, Arabella Colins.”
Arabella popped down and rounded the desk, hand out. “Nice to meet you.”
“You, too, Miss Colins. Will I be seeing you this fall in any economics classes?”
“Most likely not. I’m an education major.”
“Well, if anyone can change your mind, it’s your uncle.”
Thankfully, I was the only one who noticed Arabella’s wince at the word uncle. I wanted to wince too, but it was a good reminder of why I shouldn’t give in to wanting her.
“I won’t keep you from your day. I just heard voices and wanted to stop in and say hello.”
“Of course. I’ll be here all day Monday.”
“Good. I’ll see you then. It was nice to meet you, Arabella.”
“You too.”
Dr. Coven left, and I didn’t bother closing the door behind her. I had at least a few more hours with Arabella. If I wanted to survive, I needed to do it with as many watchful eyes as possible.
By the time Arabella needed to get to work, we’d spent more than a few hours together. She’d laughed when I bought us tickets to take the Duck Tour around downtown and into the river.
She moaned when she took her first bite of her Belgian waffle from Taste of Belgium. I’d almost groaned when I watched her lick the syrup and whip cream from her finger.
She’d soaked up every bit of information I shared about Cincinnati like any traveling soul would. I’d loved every minute of sharing my city with her, and I’d had to stop more than once from offering to take her to more cities just so I could experience them through her eyes.
“You gonna make it through the night?” I asked when we pulled up outside the bar.
“I think I can make do. I’ll do a few shots and be fine.”
“What?” I almost shouted like a concerned parent.
“Kidding, Dad. I’ll probably pound a Red Bull and make it through with sheer willpower.”
“A solid plan. Thanks for hanging out with this old man today.”
“Anytime, Grandpa.”
“Ugh, that’s worse than dad.”
“You don’t like it when I call you daddy?”
I gave her my most deadpan stare.
“Fine, Uncle Will.”
“Jesus Christ,” I groaned.
Her laugh followed her out of the car. Before she walked inside, I rolled down the window.
“Hey. What time are you off?”
She whirled around, her hair like a fiery halo. “Midnight.”
“I’ll be here before then to take you home.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know. I want to.”
Her lips shifted slightly—not into a smirk, but an endearing smile. She looked genuinely happy without any mirth.
“Thank you.”
“Anytime. See you then.”
I waited until she disappeared behind the doors and went home, counting down the minutes until I could see her again, kicking myself the whole time for how far I’d fallen today.
I’d fallen straight into completely fucked territory.
Five
Arabella
“Holy. Shit. My fantasy is coming to life.”
I looked up to find Amber’s wide eyes directed toward the door. Jerking around, I half expected Channing Tatum to walk in, eyes glued to her. Instead, I found Willem with his hair slicked back, in a dark T-shirt and black jeans, looking ten times more relaxed than the slacks and button up from earlier today. He looked side-to-side before grabbing a seat at one of the high-tops close to the bar.
“Dr. Deander is actually here,” she squealed. “How do I look? Do my boobs look okay?” she asked, rearranging them in her bra for full effect.
In all honesty, her boobs did look great, and jealousy fired through me before I could tame it.
“Umm, yeah. But he’s not like that.”