To Professor, with Love (Forbidden Men #2)(52)

Noel jerked a hand off his hip and slapped the door. “I’m not getting paid to take care of your job and mine both. You’re lucky it’s not football season, or you’d be shit out of luck right now. I can’t keep doing this, Jess. And by the way, you’re scheduling it all f*cked up. Steffie’s only signed up for two hours a week, while Gracie’s working her ass off with fifty.”

“So? I don’t like Steffie.”

“Well, you didn’t hire Steffie. Your dad did. And if you don’t want him to disown you after he gets back and find out how shitty of a job you’ve done, you’d better pull your head out of your ass and actually work once in a while.”

“I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“Just…” Stepping backward out of the office as if he couldn’t bear to talk to her a moment longer, Noel muttered, “Fix the damn schedules, will you? I can’t keep working this much. And hire another bartender while you’re at it. I need a night off, or some goddamn sleep, sometime this year.”

“I’d say so. You’ve turned into a f*cking crab.”

“Jess,” he growled warningly.

“Jesus, if you’re so all-fired to get a better schedule and new bartender, then you take care of it. Seems like you’ve gotten used to running this place, anyway.”

The muscles in his back tensed, but he merely growled, “Fine. I will.”

“Oh, and here are the f*cking notes everyone gives me, whining for all the days they want off.”

Noel stepped inside only to reemerge a moment later, his hand fisted around a ball of paper scraps. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, storming right toward me. But he seemed so mad he didn’t even notice me. I ducked out of the way just as he exited the hall and marched back behind the bar. Dumping the pile of notes onto the counter in the back, he began to organize them.

“Is a fuzzy navel made of peach or orange juice?” his clueless coworker asked a minute later.

“Both,” Noel answered without looking up. “Ice it, add one and a half ounces of peach schnapps and top that off with orange juice.”

“Thanks. What’re you doing, anyway?”

“Fixing the damn schedule.”

“Really? Hey, can you get me more than sixteen hours a week?”

Noel stopped what he was doing and lifted his face. “What the hell? She only put you in for sixteen hours a week? Figures.” He went back to work. “But yeah, you got it.” Then he paused and lifted a slip of torn paper to his eyes, squinting.

“Yo, Lowe,” he called as his coworker began to leave. “What’s this say?”

Lowe came back and took the sheet. He blinked and turned it upside down before handing it back. “No clue.”

Noel sighed and rubbed his face. “Great.”

“Noel, table eight needs refills.”

He glanced at the waitress who’d approached. “Sure. Oh! Hey, Mandy. Can you read this?”

He let her look it over while he pulled up a round of bottled beers.

With an apologetic smile, she shook her head and gave the paper back. “Sorry, sweetie. But it looks like Julia’s handwriting if that helps.”

“Julia,” he murmured, scanning the tables. “She’s not working tonight, is she?”

“Nope.” Mandy grabbed the beers and was gone.

He looked so defeated as he set the note on the bar and shook his head, I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t handle seeing him like this. He worked so hard, at everything. The guy needed a break. Or better yet, he needed my help.

“Let me see,” I said and came in close enough to slide the paper across the bar away from him. “I’m used to trying to decipher sloppy handwriting.”

When he glanced up and only blinked at me, I sent him a nervous smile, rolling my eyes. “And usually it’s other professors’ penmanship, not students, that are the worst.”

A breath rushed from his lungs. “What’re you doing here?”

Ignoring the questions because I couldn’t handle the answer, I studied the slip of paper before looking up. He looked so thunderstruck, I was actually afraid of the force of joy that pulsed through me. I should not get a thrill out of pleasing him, but oh God, I felt like a junkie. I had to do more to make him smile.

“It says ‘need off every Friday for son’s ballgames.’” Then I glanced away, unable to take the pressure I felt in my chest from simply looking into his periwinkle eyes.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN




“What you risk reveals what you value.” - Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body



NOEL



“You came back.” The words echoed though my head. She’d come back. Holy shit. Aspen had come back to Forbidden.

She handed the slip of paper back to me. “Yeah, I...I...”

“Thirsty for some more Bud Light Lime?” I guessed, making sure my fingers touched hers when I retrieved the note.

She flushed green and sent me a horrified glance. “God, no.” But even as she shook her head, her fingers seemed to slide deliberately over the outside of my thumb when she retracted her hand. God damn. I shuddered from the obscene amount of pleasure it gave me. “I don’t think I could drink that particular poison again for quite a while. I’ll just stick with cola tonight.” When she seated herself, telling me she planned to stay awhile, my heart almost cracked itself open it beat against my chest so hard.