Page 6 of Bad Professor

He’s standing outside the ladies’ room when I come out.

Not my date. Brian waits at the table, readying another story where he is the star. The first one about a golf game was interesting; the second, about his hitting a bunch of home runs in his weekly baseball game, was less so. By the time he introduced the third and then the fourth story—without even a single question asked about my life—I realized I didn’t care about hearing any more of his stories.

My husband had been self-absorbed and consumed with his own importance and there’s no way I’m dating a man remotely like him.

Ex-husband. I keep forgetting the ex part.

“Hey.” His voice is low and makes it difficult to hear over the noise of the sports fan dissecting everything about the game on the television. I don’t know how long he had been staring at me before I noticed, but I wish I had gotten a few more peeks at the guy at the bar before I excused myself to go to the ladies’ room.

I can take all the peeks I want now because he’s right here, looking long and lean in cargo shorts and a dark pink polo shirt.

I never thought cargo shorts looked good on anyone. I was wrong.

He’s cute. Attractive, with thick dark hair—I must have a thing for hair. Carlos is fighting a losing battle with hair loss, not that his girlfriend/mistress/women-who-is-now-living-in-my-house seems to mind—and friendly dark eyes.

At least I hope he’s friendly. I’m new to the dating world, but I don’t think being accosted outside the bathroom is a good thing if the man isn’t friendly.

“I don’t mean to scare you,” he says, which is exactly what a non-friendly man would say, so I take a step back. “But you looked like you weren’t having the best time.”

I shift back another step because while he may be cute, I still have no idea what he wants from me. “It wasn’t that bad.”

A lift of a dark eyebrow and an amused expression, which makes him look much less scary. “He looked like he was telling you his life story without letting you get a word in edge-wise.” He holds up his hands. “If he’s your husband, I’m really sorry.”

“Sorry if he’s my husband or the fact you’re talking about him?”

He holds my gaze. Time stretches between us. The noises from the bar, and Brian, seem very far away. “Both,” he admits with a grin.

When he smiles, it’s like someone just plugged in a string of Christmas lights, brightening the dim hallway.

It’s as if someone plugged in me.

“But I’m really sorry if you have a husband,” he adds, and I pull my attention away from his mouth, because I have been staring at it while he tells me he’s sorry if I have a husband.

I don’t. Should I tell him?

My stomach does a strange flip that I haven’t felt in years. The way he holds my gaze is both disconcerting and hypnotizing, like when I watched Matthew McConaughey dance in the Magic Mike movie.

I have no idea why I think of that at this moment because he doesn’t look at all like Matthew McConaughey. He gives me more of a cute-nerd-who-likes-books rather than the cowboy type.

He’s still hot though, despite the cargo shorts.

“I don’t,” I concede, dropping my gaze. I discretely touch my cheek. Is it really this warm in here? Or is it— His lips quirk when I look up at him like he knows he made me flush. “I don’t have a husband. Not anymore. But the one I used to have was worse than Brian talking about himself, so I guess it didn’t seem that bad.”

“Not all guys are like that. Continually talking about themselves, I mean.”

“Good to know. Do all guys stalk women when they go to the washroom?” I allow my lips to curve up in the beginning of a smile, and his eyes dance.

I want to give myself a high five. I’m bantering. Is this banter? Flirtatious banter? Why couldn’t I do this with Brian?

Probably because he talks too much about himself.

“I guess it might appear that I am stalking.” He takes a step back toward the wall to let me pass. But I don’t move past.

“Do you do that a lot?” I ask politely.

“I can honestly say I’ve never followed a woman to the washroom. Into the washroom might be another story, and involved a shit ton of beer and dare I couldn’t say no to.” He grins ruefully, and it makes him even more attractive. His hair curls up at the ends, casually tousled and in need of a cut.

“Is that your Top Gun moment?”

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