Tempting(48)

I spun away, not answering him. I took the coffee from my coworker and pressed the lid onto it before setting it on the counter under the “pick up order here” sign. Nathan looked left and right again before walking down to me and placing his hand over mine on the cup, preventing me from being able to walk away without making a scene of extracting his hand from mine.

“What do you want?” I asked under my breath, making sure to keep an eye on my coworker. Because this was a campus coffee shop, the professors who frequented it weren’t strangers. He could be recognized by anyone, leaving them to wonder what I was doing talking so intently with him.

“I feel like we left things on the wrong foot last night.”

“I have to work.” I moved back to the register and gestured for the other barista to take a break.

It took less than ten seconds before Nathan was at the register again. “What do you want?”

He stood, staring at me for a moment. “A bagel.”

“What?” I shook my head. “A bagel?”

“What kinds do you have?” He stepped closer to the register. “I meant to order breakfast with my coffee.” He lifted the cup up between us and I ground my teeth.

“Cinnamon raisin, poppy seed, whole wheat.”

Nathan made a face. “Raisins? Who willingly chooses raisins in their baked goods?”

Because I knew he was stalling so that he could talk to me, I was fuming. Maybe I was experiencing PMS or maybe I was annoyed that he was trying to joke with me after the night before and all the confusing signals he gave me, but whatever it was drove me to say, “You do, today.” I thrust my hand into the case and pulled out a cinnamon bagel, popping it into the toaster and taking his money even as he looked bewildered. This time, when it was time to hand back his change, I dropped it on the counter and turned away to get the cream cheese from the refrigerator.

“Adele.” Nathan’s voice over the patisserie case caused me to drop the cream cheese covered knife on my apron, smearing it everywhere.

Glaring at him, I plopped the cream cheese onto the bagel and shoved it into a plastic bag. I stalked to the “pick up order here” side and tried to walk away after setting the bagel down, but he stopped me with a hand on my upper arm. He held me neither roughly or with threat, but I still felt frozen.

“Don’t make a scene,” he said through his teeth. He casually glanced around us before turning back to me. “We need to talk. Not here.” His thumb grazed the crook of my elbow and I tilted my head, feeling depleted of all the nervous energy seeing him had given me. His eyes paused on the bite on my neck and I watched the movement of his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Did I do that?” he asked on a whisper.

I opened my mouth to answer but was interrupted by a booming voice behind him. “Nathaniel.”

Nathan’s hand left my arm like I’d burned him, his eyes going wide before he schooled his features. “Sir,” he said turning around.

The man was in his fifties, his hair a blend of salt and pepper and his face tanned. He wore a suit and tie and looked familiar to me, but I couldn’t place him.

“Good morning,” the man said, looking between Nathan and me. His gaze paused on mine and he said, “Have we met?”

Nervously, I laughed. “I was just wondering the same thing.”

“Are you here on a scholarship?”

Wow, he didn’t throw any punches. It seemed an odd thing to ask and I struggled over my answer before he spoke again.

“I oversee many of the interviews for scholarship applications,” he explained. “What’s your name?”

“Adele,” I said, feeling it suddenly click into place. “I was awarded the Margaret Phillips Memorial Scholarship last year and again this year.”

He pointed a finger at me. “Yes, that’s it.” Seemingly pleased with himself, he tucked his hands into his pockets. “Adele Morello.”

“You have a great memory.” I vaguely remembered him, but couldn’t recall his name. “I’m sorry, I haven’t absorbed any caffeine through osmosis today,” I joked. “I can’t remember your name.”

Displeasure was like a lightning bolt over his face: there and gone so quickly I nearly didn’t see it. “Richard Easton.”

I flicked my eyes to Nathan, registered the same look of “fuck me” that must have been on my face. And then I turned back to Richard Easton and held out my hand. “Nice to see you again,” I said softly.

He held my hand in his and finally acknowledged Nathan next to him. “Nathaniel, is Ms. Morello one of your students?”