Page 3 of The Texas Sterling Collection
“You wouldn’t be here if the Admissions office didn’t give you a high success factor. Besides, like me, all instructors are happy to help their students. Just ask. And stop worrying so much about failure. And come to my office if you have trouble.”
Wyl’s shoulders relaxed, and he sat back in his chair. “Thanks, Dr. Bonner.”
I pressed the brew button on the coffeemaker. “On a different topic, and if you don’t mind me asking, is your braid symbolic?”
“Yes. My mom is full-blood Apache. She and my dad met as students at New Mexico State University.”
As he talked, Wyl motioned with his hands to emphasize points.I could almost feel his big hands massaging my shoulders.
“After high school, I traveled the country, learning more about my heritage. The braid symbolizes not only my Native American roots but also the woman who bore me and taught me to be proud—my mom.”
Coffee gurgled into the carafe. “While today’s online generation can experience virtual connections, you have an amazing real-world link to your past. I’m sure your parents are proud of the man you became.”
Color flashed on Wyl’s cheeks. “Thank you, Dr. Bonner.”
Seeing Wyl’s faint blush, a pang of excitement rolled through me—feelings I couldn’t have for a student, regardless of age.
Wyl crossed a booted ankle over one knee. “My parents are gone now. My brother ran the ranch by himself, but he needed help. My taking over the business end made sense. He decided I should enroll at WBCC to learn current business practices.”
The aroma of brewing coffee filled the room. “Your brother decided?”
Wyl nodded. “He’s my younger brother. Let’s say he can be quite persuasive.”
“He sounds like a smart man. Having a degree makes sense, regardless of your age when you finish. And speaking of age,” I tried to keep the smirk off my face. “I’m looking forward to having an older student in my course.”
Wyl raised one eyebrow. “What do you mean,older?”
My focus went to the plump lower lip between Wyl’s teeth and the tease in his voice. I strolled over to the maintenance closet and tugged open the door. “I think we put a cane in here somewhere.” I rattled the broom handles before glancing at Wyl. “Old guys like you need help getting around, right?”
Wyl barked out a deep, hearty laugh. “I’m only forty. Not quite ready to move to an old folks’ home.”
Grinning, I closed the closet and grabbed two mugs from the cabinet. I poured coffee and offered a mug to Wyl. His intense grey-green eyes caught mine before I glanced away.
“Thank you, Dr. Bonner.”
I took a deep breath, thinking of lesson plans and staff meeting—anything but the hunky, part-Native-American rancher seated at the table. A hunky rancher, I shouldn’t think about. I had not been this attracted to another man in years. But attraction to a straight student meant bigger trouble than I needed.
I cleared my throat, tugging my thoughts back to the present. “All old-age comments aside, most WBCC students are in their late teens, but this morning, you told the class you served in the Marines for twenty years. To them, you’re ancient.”
Wyl raised the mug in a salute. “I prefer the term older to ancient. I bet we’re about the same age.”
Rod laughed. “I’m forty-five, so way older.”
Wyl squinted his grey-green eyes at me. “You’re lucky this building includes handicap ramps. I bet stairs give you trouble.”
“Shut up!” I grinned. “The only trouble with this building is smart-mouthed older students.”
“And how many of those are enrolled in your course?” Wyl gestured with an open hand, expecting the answer to drop into his palm.
“Only the one, but he’s proving to be a handful.” I stood. “And I need to prepare for my next class. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.”
“Thanks, Dr. Bonner. I’ll wash my mug when I’m done.”
I’m not sure why, but hearing a retired Marine and local ranch owner use my surname and title hit me wrong. Yeah…I know…stupid. But I wanted to be friends with him, no matter how much trouble I might jump feet-first into. Still, being honest with myself, I needed to explore the possibility of calling Wyl a friend.As long as we keep things professional, what can it hurt?I ignored the stupid inner voice telling me to back away. I listened for the compassionate inner voice that threw caution to the wind and told me I wanted to ease his stress about being in college. “Wyl, would you be okay with calling me Rod? We’re about the same age, and a man with your military experience includes life credentials I’ll never have.”
“Wow. Thanks, Doc…er…Rod.” He grinned. “Coffee in your inner sanctum, and now first names? What’s next? We lay on the floor, chew bubble gum, and read comic books together?” Wyl shook his head and laughed.
I grinned, heat flaming my cheeks. “Shut up, old man. And you come to me if you have any trouble on campus. Non-traditional students are sometimes overwhelmed and drop out. I’m here to help you succeed.”
