Page 308 of The Winslow Brothers

“Findeverythingyou need, Rachel?” he questions, and I don’t miss the ways his eyes flash with amusement.

“Sure did.” I wave the file in the air. “You said the file folder in the second drawer on the right, correct?”

His brow furrows ever so slightly and I know he’s wondering where my stupid panties are, but he recovers quickly. Ty Winslow isn’t a novice either. “Correct.”

“Well then, I’d say I got everything I need,Professor.”

He searches my eyes for a moment longer, but eventually, he takes a step back, opening a path for me. “Well then, I guess I’ll let you on your way.”

“Great.” I start to walk past him, but his voice makes me stop in my tracks.

“Oh, and Rachel?”

“Yeah?” I look up to meet his steadfast gaze.

“In the future, never hesitate to grab anything out of my desk or office, okay?” he states with a coy smile I want to smack right off his face. “My things are your things.”

Oh, hardy-har-har. Very funny, asshole.

“Duly noted.” My responding smile is so fake it could be a sugar substitute. “See you tomorrow.”

And then, I walk around the smug bastard and head right for the stairwell.

He might think he can make me break, but he hasn’t experienced the stubbornness that is Rachel Rose.

Game on, Professor. I hope you came to play.

Friday, January 18th

Ty

“Have a great weekend. See you, Monday,” I announce with a grin and watch as my four o’clock Advanced Creative Writing class packs up their bags.

If there’s one guarantee on a Friday, it’s that every student in the class will make a beeline for the door. There will be no questions or concerns to be had. The priority is the weekend, and anything class-related can wait until Monday.

Frankly, I don’t mind, and I stay put at my lecture hall desk, scrolling through some missed notifications on my phone while my mostly junior and senior students exit the room.

First, I hit my text inbox and find a message from an unknown number. The anticipation makes my heart rate kick up a few notches, but when I open it, the excitement comes to a screeching halt.

Unknown: Hi, Ty. It’s Clara.

Who is Clara?That name isn’t ringing any fucking bells.

Thankfully, she’s provided an explanation via two additional messages.

Unknown: We met at Orchid a few Fridays ago. Danced a bit. Had a drink at the bar.

Unknown: I ended up getting your number from your brother Jude. He’s an old friend. And since I had such a good time with you, I wanted to reach out and see if you’d be interested in meeting up for a drink this weekend. I’d love to continue what we started. ;)

I can appreciate the sentiment, but without sounding like a dick, I still don’t remember her.

That’s because there’s onlyone womanyou remember from Orchid.

While I decide whether I need to kick Jude’s ass for giving out my number to random women, I move my focus to a text from my mom.

Mama Winslow: Ty, what time are you picking me up?

Tonight is one of our monthly mother-son date nights, and the plans include surprising her with a fun dinner at Tavern on the Green. It’s one of her favorite restaurants, and it’s been over a year since we’ve gone.

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