Page 324 of The Winslow Brothers

I only have a little bit of time to secure a date, but I’m confident I can pull through.

After a random scroll, I land on a number and get ready to hit call, but another text message buzzes in my hand and sends a banner down from the top of the screen. I’m expecting another family member, but it’s not.

It’s the woman I’ve been avoiding for the last several days like a pussy. I couldn’t help it, though. Every time she blinked at me with those big, sexy green eyes, I lost another ounce of cool. If I would’ve kept it up all week, there wouldn’t have been anything left of me by today, and then I would have been a no-show for Daisy’s shower.

And I’d also have to deal with Flynn resurrecting me from the dead just to kill me again. Honestly, it’d just be a whole messy thing.

Avoiding her was the way to go. Especially after she whisperedhot for teacherin my ear. It had taken me a good twenty minutes to compose myself after she’d said those words and sashayed her curvy ass out of my lecture hall.

But surely a text message is safe enough. She can’t get me flustered with words, right?

Rachel: Sorry to bother you on the weekend, but I need the finalized questions for the Classic Lit exam so I can get them ready for Tuesday. I’d do it tomorrow or Monday, but I have a paper of my own due. I tried tocatch you after class the last few days, but we never seemed to cross paths.

That’s…well…true. Because for the last few days, I’ve been putting more energy into avoiding Rachel than anything else in my life. Work, the gym, food—none of it has mattered, as long as I can get out of the building before Rachel every day.

Irony is at its finest, though, since she’s actually the person I want to see most. It’s just that I turn into a flaming fucking mess every time I come into contact with her, and that shit’s not me. Ty Winslow doesn’t let people mind-meld him. If anything, he does the mind-melding.

But Rachel Rose has some kind of power I’ve never encountered before. Something that makes me crazy. Something that makes thirty-nine years of learning to function seem obsolete.

In addition to that, I didn’t do anything with the test questions yet. In fact, I didn’t even remember them until now.

Me: Right. I can email them over later tonight. I’d do it now, but I have to head out for a baby shower soon.

Her response comes in a minute later.

Rachel: Let’s be honest, did you actually make any changes? Because if not, I can do one last proof and then just get the test ready.

How the hell does she know that?

Me: What makes you say that?

Rachel: Because you haven’t made any changes on the last two tests I’ve prepared.

Me: Haha. Okay. Wow, Sherlock Holmes. I guess I’m busted. Go ahead and use the questions you have.

Rachel: LOL. I’m just trying to make this easier on you.

Me: No, you’re right. You write good questions, so I’ve been doing fuck all to them since you started.

Rachel: Well, thanks. I try. You make it pretty easy to pick them with the way you lecture.

Are we…having a compliment war right now?Because it sure as hell feels like it.You’re also doing a really good—more like,terrible—job of avoiding her, dude. Top-notch. Good enough to join the CIA.

I tell my inner voice to take a hike. I mean, she was texting about work, and it’s not exactly like I can cut her off completely. She’s my TA.

Which is paradoxically also a good explanation for why I shouldn’t be thinking about her. I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to whack off to thoughts of your TA on a nightly basis, and if you are, you should ask the department head for a change.

Of course, the department head is her father, and I promised I’d take Rachel on as a specific favor to him, so I guess I’m in a real pickle.

Life is really wild right now, honestly.

Rachel: Also, my mind just processed that you said you’re going to a baby shower, and that is an incredibly hard thing for me to picture.

I snort.Yeah. Tell me about it.

Me: It’s for my brother Flynn. His wife Daisy is pregnant with twin boys.

Rachel: Twins? That’s a lot of babies.

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