Page 23 of The Cruelty of Thorns

“What would you teach?”

“Well, obviously not literature,” he laughed. “I’m something of a history buff.”

“History? What made you chose Whitfield? Seems like you could have had more variety at a larger school.”

“My mother went to Whitfield and she’s in the alumni association. Made it a little easier for me to get in.”

The drinks arrived and Jack asked the server to bring us some food menus. I hadn’t planned on staying long enough to eat, especially since I was pretty sure they probably only offered the standard burgers and wings, but I realized I was starving and I was actually enjoying Ron’s company.

“So tell me, Myra Landon,” Ron said after we had all placed our orders, “what brings you to Whitfield?”

I was surprised he knew my last name, and I found myself wanting to open up to him despite my usual reluctance to let anyone in. “My dad left me a small inheritance and I had a scholarship. I considered the bigger schools, but when I saw Whitfield, I became intrigued with its small campus and classroom sizes. I figured I could get a more personalized education here.”

That was the most I had talked about myself in years.

“And what about the art? Have you always been talented at drawing?”

“My father wanted me to pursue it, but, well…I lost interest.”

I blinked back the tears that always welled in my eyes at this subject. No, I would not get emotional in front of him. “Will you excuse me for a minute? I need to run to the ladies’ room.”

I stood up before he could answer me, determined to find a private place to get myself under control. I didn’t even notice my surroundings as I made a beeline through the crowded room until a hand shot out and wrapped around my arm, pulling me close. I gasped when I saw who it was.

“Julianus. What are you–?”

I was pressed up against him, his hard body molding perfectly to mine, his scent–a fresh male muskiness–filling my head, his eyes blown to full black in the dim light of the bar. My pulse skittered at his closeness, my nipples achingly hard, a warmth fluttering through my belly. I wanted him closer, I needed him to back away. I was torn, and without thinking, I pushed my hand against his chest to gain some space and felt his heart pounding as fast as mine. He reached his free hand out and grabbed the braid at the back of my hair, running it through his fingers.

“I like it like this.”

I was caught completely off guard. “What do–?

He didn’t give me a chance to respond. “Is he someone special to you?”

It took me a minute to put together what he was asking. “Who, Ron? He’s a friend.” The initial shock of seeing him here had worn off, to be replaced by a slow-burning resentment. What right had he to ask about me? I glanced down at the hand that still held my arm and tried to shake loose, but his grip was relentless.

“Please let me go,” I said and his eyes widened as he released me.

“Sorry. I just…did not expect to see you here with someone.”

“And what business is that of yours?” I snapped, amazed at my own anger. I was never one to seek out conflict.

“I was thinking about you,” he replied with a shrug.

He was thinking about me? Is that why he was here, to look for me? While the thought of that gave me a momentary thrill, I still didn’t like the way he had assumed he had any rights over me. “As flattering as that is, I’m here with my friends. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I was headed for the restroom.”

I stalked off before he had a chance to reply, blowing out a long sigh and trying to get my nerves under control. Was he actually jealous of me?

“You are completely out of your element here,” I murmured under my breath as I yanked open the door to the ladies’ room.

Julianus was gone when I emerged several minutes later. The encounter had at least made me forget about my reason for heading to the restroom in the first place. Ron looked up with a wide grin when I approached the table.

“I was beginning to worry about you.”

I returned his smile and slipped into my seat as our food was delivered. “Sorry. There was a line.”

“Something guys never have to worry about, “Kristin added, eavesdropping.

“Oh, we get lines,” Ron insisted with a glance across the bar. “Though not like that.”

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