Page 5 of Boiling Point
“Oh! Dr. Hawthorne,” she said, voice laced with both surprise and relief. “What are you doing here so late?”
“I might ask you the same,” I replied with a trace of humor. “Trouble with your car?”
“It won’t start,” she grumbled, glancing down at the engine with a mix of frustration and resignation. “I think it’s the battery.”
I couldn’t help but smirk at the irony. “Battery troubles? Rather fitting, considering what we’ve been covering in class.”
Her lips curled faintly, a flicker of amusement in her eyes despite the situation. “You don’t happen to have jumper cables, do you?”
“Regrettably not. And even if I did”—I gestured back toward my car—“I drive a hybrid. It doesn’t play nicely when it comes to jumping other batteries.”
She let out a breath. “Just my luck.”
“I’d be happy to give you a ride,” I offered, careful to keep my tone professional. Still, something tightened in my chest at the prospect.
“Really? That would be amazing.” She shut the bonnet and brushed rain from her hands.
“Come on then, let’s get out of the weather.”
The umbrella strained against the wind as I walked her to my car. The scent of rain on wet pavement and pine hung in theair. Her shoulder nearly brushed mine. Her damp hair glistened, and her cheeks were flushed from the cold.
Once inside the dry haven of my car—a sleek silver sedan—we shook off the rain. Gabrielle rubbed her hands together to chase away the cold while I adjusted the climate controls.
“Shall I switch on your seat heater?”
She grinned. “Fancy. Yes, please.”
“Which residence hall do you stay in?” I asked, hoping to dispel any awkwardness that accompanied having a student in one’s passenger seat. I pulled out of the monochromatic car park and onto the rain-slicked street, the windscreen wipers swishing in a steady cadence.
“I actually live off-campus,” she said with a hint of pride.
I raised an eyebrow. “You’ve managed to circumvent the university’s strict on-campus residency policy? Impressive.” I glanced at her, intrigued. “Local, then? Living with your parents?”
She flinched slightly at the word “parents,” and I immediately regretted my curiosity, cursing my breach of discretion.
“No, I have an apartment. Nothing fancy, but it’s all mine,” she said quietly, gaze fixed on the rain-streaked window. “I’m twenty-five. The residency requirement only applies through twenty-four.”
I nodded, absorbing that. She was older than most students. Perhaps that explained her focus and determination. It also meant she had more life experience than I’d assumed, something that drew me to her in a way I couldn’t quite articulate—a way that left me unsettled.
“I’ll take you home then, if you’ll permit me.”
“Thank you, that would be great.” She chewed on her bottom lip and fiddled with the hem of her jumper. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
“Not at all. Where to?”
Chapter 4
Gabrielle
The streetlights blurred into streaks as we drove through the rain-soaked roads. The town was ghostly in the downpour, a watercolor of muted hues and shifting shapes. Dr. Hawthorne’s car was a warm cocoon as water streamed in steady sheets down the windows. I stole glances at him—his focus on the road, his profile sharp against the dim light—and I felt a curious blend of comfort and uncertainty.
He pulled into my apartment complex, an array of modest buildings with khaki-colored siding nestled behind a grove of trees, their outlines softened by the deluge.
“I’m in building five, just over there,” I said, gesturing toward my place on the ground floor.
He nodded silently and steered the car into a parking spot as close to the front as he could get. “Here we are,” he said, shifting into park.
“Thank you so much,” I replied, clutching my backpack close to my chest. I couldn’t quite mask my reluctance to leave. The thought of braving the rain again felt daunting, but I reached for the door handle anyway.
