To Professor, with Love (Forbidden Men #2)(7)

“One would think with your degree, you’d be able to master what words come from your mouth with a little more respect and decorum.”

“Again, I’m sorry. I—”

“Apologies are for the flawed, Aspen. Stop highlighting your imperfections.” She let out a disgusted breath. “I’ll update you on your father’s prognosis again when I deem it necessary.”

She disconnected the line before I could get in another word.

“Crap,” I muttered. Who knew how long it would be before she stooped to call me again. I knew she wouldn’t answer if I tried to patch back through to her with an eloquent apology that didn’t actually sound like the apology of a “flawed, imbecile” daughter.

I just hoped she’d be merciful enough to keep me updated about my father.

This time when I lifted my napkin, I dabbed the base of my lashes instead of my mouth. I had another class to teach in fifteen minutes; I didn’t want to show up with wet, swollen eyes or a runny nose. If my parents had taught me anything, it was that a dignified image meant everything.

But damn it, I wished I knew why I always let my mother’s words get to me. I should expect her chilly, impersonal and condescending treatment by now. Yet I still ached for a little nugget of affection from both of my parents. Ninety percent of everything I did was to win their love. But I couldn’t give up trying. Because honestly, if a girl couldn’t get her own family to care about her, who would?

After putting my cell phone and ereader away, I clasped my briefcase closed and brushed stray crumbs off my lap. Acting as if nothing whatsoever was bothering me, I tossed the rest of my lunch and returned to the English department to finish my last two classes for the day.

The afternoon dragged by, and more than once, I had to bite the inside of my lip to keep from thinking about the conversation I’d had with my mother. Good news was it diverted my mind from a certain blue-eyed cretin I wanted to hate.

Except I should’ve known he’d find a way to steal back into my day. After all, blue-eyed cretins had a way of doing that.

By three ten, I entered the sanctuary of my office. Pausing in the doorway, I breathed in the scent of old books lining the walls, which immediately helped loosen my tight muscles. My briefcase slid neatly into the nook between my desk and the wall where I always kept it, and my rump sank into the cushion of my chair. Then and only then did I let out a small moan of delight.

Home.

Some might consider it sad and pathetic that one of the two places I felt at home was tucked away in my cramped office at the university, but I didn’t care. At least I finally had a place that felt welcoming. So I embraced it.

Booting up my computer, I chewed on a fingernail as I waited for my welcome screen to pop up and ask for my password.

Just as it did, a knock came at the opened door of my office. For the briefest moment, my heart leapt into my throat. But dear God, if Noel Gamble had actually accepted my invitation to talk about his essay this afternoon, I was going to have heart failure. He couldn’t invade my safe haven. My home. He just couldn’t.

I almost passed out from relief when I saw the dean of the English department framed in the doorway instead. Thank God.

“Dr. Frenetti.” I sprang to my feet, brushing my bangs out of my eyes. “Please come in.”

He stepped into the room. “Dr. Kavanagh,” he greeted with a tight nod before he got straight to his point. “I hear you’re giving Noel Gamble a hard time?”

Oh, good God, you had to be kidding me.

I’m not sure what was worse; Noel Gamble visiting my office, or someone concerned about Noel Gamble visiting my office. I just wanted to escape everything that was Noel Gamble.

Shaking my head, I offered Dr. Frenetti a tense, confused smile. “Where did you hear that?”

“His coach contacted me today.”

My teeth ground together. What do you know; the arrogant douche had whined to someone about me. Why was I not surprised?

Dr. Frenetti’s face showed some serious disapproval, and unfortunately, he already had one of those faces that looked condemning without any help. With a large, flat nose, permanent frown wrinkles marring his forehead, and fleshy jowls that sagged with outright censure, he looked positively reproachful as he scowled.

Ignoring the urge to slink back into my seat and start apologizing for my failures, I forced a stiff nod. This was about Noel Gamble’s shortcomings, not mine. Still, it felt as if I was confessing a sin when I answered, “He’s not doing well, no.”

Without waiting for my invitation, Dr. Frenetti seated himself in the chair opposite mine and left me standing uneasily in front of him. I shifted a step, uncertain if I should sit too. It was a good thing I finally did because what he said next left me too weak-kneed to remain upright.

“I had my doubts when the board hired you, Aspen. Someone so young and inexperienced...” He shook his head and sighed. “I knew it would cause problems. But the reference your old professor gave us was impeccable. She spoke so highly of you I hoped it would all work out. Except I’m not sure you quite understand the gravity that flunking this student would have. We were undefeated this season until the playoffs. And you might not see it yet, but football is the backbone of this university.”

Oh, I saw it all right. I just didn’t see how that should affect my grading.

“The sooner everyone in the entire English department realizes it, the better. If the team gets the divisional championship next year, our recruiting power goes through the roof, which means more students taking more English courses and more money coming in, hence a better chance for pay raises...bonuses. In essence, you’re helping yourself and everyone on campus if you help this boy. He’s the key to a better university, Aspen. His passing grades are the only thing keeping him here. He absolutely cannot lose his scholarship.”