Out of Her League (20 page)

Everyone laughed at the look on Tanner’s
face when Fang tried to give him some enthusiastic kisses. Fang was a lot like
one of those cats that always went to the person who was the most allergic,
only Fang was drawn to anyone who loved Rottweilers.

It took a while, but eventually everyone
settled in, the incident out front not forgotten, surely, but put aside so they
could focus on their work. Michaela finally took a real breath.

It was almost two hours later when Tanner
declared he was starving. “Do you have any food?”

Michaela shrugged. “Not really?” It wasn’t
like she’d been expecting company. Ever. “But I can get pizza delivered.”

Eric sat up, looking enthusiastic. “Yes! I
like black olives and anchovies on mine.”

They all stared at him.

“What is
wrong
with you?” Sadie
asked.

“You get your own pie,” Michaela said
firmly.

Tanner’s gaze narrowed on Eric. “Which is
precisely why he chose that.”

Eric smiled innocently.

“Okay, so clearly we need at least two
pizzas. What else do you guys want? I’ll treat,” Michaela said as she stood to
get the menu.

Tanner scowled. “No. You won’t.”

Michaela froze. “Oh, I didn’t mean. I’m not
saying you can’t afford to—”

“He didn’t mean it like that,” Sadie said
quickly with a dirty look for Tanner.

“Actually, you’re right. I didn’t,” Tanner said.
“What I meant was, if we’re going to do this, and we’re going to invite
ourselves over—which, by the way, we are, because hell, no, I’m not going out
in public with you on a regular basis—I think it would be better if there was
no question about whether any of us are interested in freeloading off your rich
ass. Is that clear enough?”

A sharp laugh burst from Michaela. “Yeah,
that was pretty clear.”

“Jesus, Tanner,” Eric muttered.

“No, it’s okay,” Michaela said quickly.
“He’s right. I mean, I didn’t think that, but Tanner has a point.”

“Excellent. Thank you,” Tanner said, clearly
not expecting the support. “Now, what do you want? I bet you like fancy shit,
right?”

“Actually, my
rich ass
likes
pepperoni.”

Tanner grinned. “Excellent, so does my
student-loaned-up-to-my-ass ass.”

Sadie flopped back on the couch. “There
sure are a lot of asses in this room,” she muttered darkly.

Lachlan spent his Sunday as he often did, catching
up on his work and his reading. His little house was a refuge, quiet and away
from people and students and noise.

The night before had ended up a total shit
show—thanks to Robby’s surprisingly effective right hook—so after calling his
parents for their weekly phone call, he gave himself permission to turn off his
phone and take a break from the rest of the world.

He was still kind of pissed Robby had
punched the douchebag. Not because he didn’t deserve it, but because Lachlan
had wanted to be the one to introduce his fist to that asshole’s face.

Though, either way, the fallout was likely going
to suck for Michaela. Robby had sent them fleeing to their car as soon as it
happened, well before the press outside had figured out what was going on inside
the aquarium. Robby had stayed behind to handle the clean-up, which apparently hadn’t
been as bad as Lachlan would have guessed, since Robby had called Michaela’s
cell before they’d even arrived home, promising that Blake wasn’t going to
press charges and that Robby would make sure everyone was clear Michaela had no
part in any of his actions.

Which, of course, was a lie. Robby had
absolutely punched Blake because of Michaela. And Lachlan now considered Robby
a lifelong friend because of it. He was good people. The best kind of people.
The only thing Lachlan couldn’t understand, for the life of him, is why every
single one of Michaela’s friends hadn’t lined up to take a shot at Blake
before
now.

He didn’t necessarily mean violently, either—though
that was extremely satisfying, even just to witness. Why hadn’t people
condemned Blake Whelton? To the press, to his friends and associates. The man
should be a pariah for what he’d done, but instead, Michaela had to live in the
midst of a circus she’d had no part in creating, while Blake got off scot free.

The whole thing just
sucked
.

Lachlan worried how Michaela was coping today,
but he knew she was with her study group for most of the day and he didn’t want
to bother her. And he really didn’t want to talk to the rest of his family today,
when his choices would be to lie and say nothing was new—being at the center of
a fight at a fancy party was definitely new for Lachlan—or tell them what had
happened and having to field endless questions.

His time would be better spent with a few
hours of peace and quiet while he worked his way through his freshmen class’s biographies
on philosophers of their choosing. He smiled when he discovered one kid had
balls big enough to title his paper “Everyone Loves Bacon” and tried to decide if
he was allowed to give him extra points for that. Probably not, but hopefully
it meant the kid at least put some effort into the assignment.

Ten hours later, Lachlan was feeling
decidedly less optimistic about the potential for this group of freshmen to actually
graduate, let alone write an engaging paper about people who should have made
that easy, at least with Lachlan as their audience. He’d worked through lunch
and dinner with the reward of being done in time to turn on the game. Rhian was
on fire, and spending a couple hours hollering at the television was the
perfect end to Lachlan’s day.

He staggered to bed—hockey games went way
too late when he had an early class the next day, but it was
still
worth
it—and crashed.

It wasn’t until he was walking across
campus the next morning that he realized he’d made a mistake. He really should
have turned his phone back on yesterday.

He saw the gaggle of people on the steps to
the building where his class was to be held, and wouldn’t have thought anything
of it had they not been surrounded by campus security, who were very clearly,
and very
loudly
, telling them they had to leave the university property
immediately.

What was that all about?

Then he saw Anna striding toward him,
almost running, her shoulders up around her ears and her wide eyes pinned on
him. She was mouthing something, but he couldn’t tell what until she was almost
within ear shot.

Turn around!

“What?”

Anna looked over her shoulder, then finally
broke into a run. Lachlan watched with alarm as she bore down on him and
grabbed his elbow.

“Turn around. And walk
fast
.”

He did as she’d asked, alarmed. “What the
hell is going on?”

“Campus security will get rid of them, but
you don’t want them to see you.”

“See me? See who? What are you talking
about?”

Anna looked up at him incredulously but
said nothing until she’d dragged him around the corner of a building and out of
sight.

“That, I believe, is what you call the
paparazzi.”

“The what?” Lachlan asked, his heart
sinking.

“The press. Reporters, photographers. And
they are
not
nice people.”

“Were they rude to you?” he asked,
concerned and furious.

Anna smiled at him, and he felt
uncomfortable at how fond she looked. “No, they weren’t rude to me. I mean,
other than being in my way when I was trying to get to class. But then I figured
it would be better to walk away and try to find you before you got there.”

She peeked around the corner of the
building they were hiding behind.

“Are they still there?” he asked, cold
dread congealing in his gut.

“Yeah, but security apparently brought in
the big guns. Cambridge’s finest will get them out of here soon enough.”

Lachlan slumped against the rough brick wall.
“Shit. The police are involved?”

“The university is private property,” Anna
said with a shrug, perfectly matter-of-fact. “They can’t be here without
permission—which they definitely do not have.”

Lachlan groaned. “I am so screwed. How did
this happen?”

“Just guessing, but it was probably the brawl,”
Anna said dryly.

“Brawl?
What
brawl?” he cried,
dismayed at how high his voice had gone. This was ridiculous. There hadn’t been
any brawl. He hadn’t even played hockey this weekend.

Anna looked concerned. “Oh, boy. Please,
tell me you know what’s going on.”

“I obviously have no idea,” he said, trying
not to lose his patience. Why hadn’t anyone told him something was going on,
and maybe explained how the fuck he had anything to do with it? Then he
remembered. “Oh, shit. My phone.”

With no small amount of trepidation, he
fished it from his pocket and turned it on. It lit up like Christmas.

“Wow. Two hundred and forty seven missed
text messages,” Anna said with quiet awe as she peered over his shoulder.

“And almost as many unread emails,” Lachlan
muttered. He was overwhelmed at the idea of wading through all that. Then he looked
at the time and happily shoved the phone back in pocket. “I’ll deal with that
later. Right now, we’re going to be late for class.”

“You’re actually going to teach today?”

“Yes,” he said firmly. “I’m going to be in
enough trouble when Dick gets wind of this. I’d better at least show up for
class.”

“Good point.” Anna checked around the corner.
“Okay, ready to run for it?”

Lachlan grimaced and muttered, “Jesus
Christ.” Anna just raised her eyebrows. He sighed and held out his hand. “Lead
on.”

She hadn’t been kidding about the running
part, either.

Michaela stared down at her phone, reading
again the texts from Robby apologizing profusely and repeatedly. She’d already told
him to let it go, but he was determined to fret. She considered asking him to
come over after her class later, but she was hesitant to make any plans. Not to
mention, if the press saw him, it would seriously undermine Robby’s assertion
that he hadn’t hit Blake for any reason to do with her.

The phone buzzed in her palm and she
quickly checked to see if it was…no, it was just her brother.

She should be studying. Or getting in her
morning workout. God knew, her stress level was high enough to demand she do
something
to take her mind off of things. Instead, she just sat on the couch, Fang curled
at her side gazing up at her with transparent worry, and waited to hear from
Lachlan.

After twenty-four hours, she should possibly
accept she wasn’t going to. Probably not ever again.

Lachlan had a problem. Actually, he had a
hell of a lot more than one of them right now, but there was really only one thing
in particular that he could focus on at the moment.

Michaela wasn’t answering his texts. Or his
calls.

He had managed to teach his class that
morning, thanks only to Anna’s knowledge of the utility door into the basement
of the building—which he was absolutely going to ask her about some day. It had
actually gone pretty well, if he ignored the way his students were all staring
at him like he was someone they’d never seen before. After that, he hadn’t been
willing to push his luck and had cancelled his office hours for later in the
morning, partly because he figured it could be a madhouse, but mostly because
he was a total coward and avoiding Dick by any means necessary.

Now it was mid-day, and he was trapped in
his house. He paced around his living room, actively resisting the urge to look
out the front windows to be sure he hadn’t hallucinated what was currently
happening out on the sidewalk.

It turned out he’d been damn lucky up to
this point. The press hadn’t found him yesterday because he made a point of not
listing his contact and address information publicly. When you’re a university
professor living near campus, it was better if your students couldn’t find you.
Late night visits to beg for leniency, or a better grade, or, on one memorable occasion,
to be told that if he didn’t pass the student who’d had the balls to show up at
his door, drunk, at one in the morning, the student’s father would see that
Lachlan lost his job.

He’d always wondered where that kid had
ended up finishing school.

Anyway, for better or worse, he’d made it
through yesterday unmolested at home. He probably could have done with a
warning before this morning, but then again, he probably wouldn’t have dared
leave the house to get to class. Just like
now
, since he refused to
crack his front door for any reason, knowing there were a half dozen cameras
and at least four times as many neighbors, waiting for a show. Hell, the grad
students across the street had actually set up a row of beach chairs on their
lawn and were working their way through a cooler of cheap beer with front row
seats to the freak show that was now Lachlan’s life.

He jumped when his phone buzzed in his hand
and he looked down quickly, disappointed to see it wasn’t Michaela. But then
again, maybe Callum was a good next option.

“Hello?” he said carefully. It wasn’t like
spoofing a number for Caller ID was unheard of.

“Dude, this fake dating thing doesn’t seem
to be working out for you. Did you really punch the douchebag in the face?”

Lachlan sighed. “No, but I wish I had.” For
all the trouble it had caused, he would have liked to at least have had that
satisfaction.

“So, there was no fight?”

“Robby punched him, not me. I was just an
innocent bystander.”

“Damn,” Callum murmured. “I gotta buy that
guy a drink.”

“Get in line.”

Callum laughed. “So, how’s it going? You
okay?”

“Not really,” Lachlan muttered. “I’m
trapped in my house and Michaela isn’t speaking to me.”

“That’s not what I hear,” Callum said, the
laughter gone from his voice.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means she tried to reach you all day
yesterday and again this morning, and you’ve been blowing her off. I know this
isn’t what you signed up for when you agreed to show her around school and
shit, but leaving her high and dry right now is really fucking uncool, man.”

Lachlan cringed. Then he explained about
his phone, finishing with, “I thought she’d be busy all day with her study
group and then studying on her own. I wasn’t expecting to hear from her until
today. And I definitely wasn’t expecting
all this
” —he waved his hand at
the front of his house, even though Callum couldn’t see him— “to happen.”

Callum harrumphed, but Lachlan knew that
was his brother’s grumpy way of accepting what he’d said as the truth. And
possibly reasonable.

“Go ahead and send the text,” Callum said.

“What?”

“I was talking to my husband,” Callum
explained, which clarified nothing.

Suddenly there was a great melee in front
of his house. Lachlan could hear people shouting questions and ran to his front
windows, peeking out a curtain to see the press moving down the block.

Smiling for the cameras for all he was
worth, Rhian strode down the street, making his way toward Lachlan’s door.

“What the hell is Rhian doing here?”

“He’s doing you a huge favor, that’s what.
He’ll stall out there for a while, giving non-answers. I prepped him. Go unlock
your back door. And if your fence gate is locked, go undo that, too.
Hurry.”

Lachlan ran into his kitchen and threw the
deadbolt, then yanked open the door to find Savannah, Garrick, and Michaela ducking
into his back yard from the private alley that ran behind all the houses on his
block. They quickly shut the gate behind them. He had never been happier to
have a six foot privacy fence, but he still waved madly for them to get their
asses into the house as quickly as possible. He didn’t know if one of his
neighbors could see them from a second story window, and he had no idea which
of them might have sold him up the river by giving his address to the press.

He slammed the door and locked it as soon
as they were inside.

Savannah shoved at him before he could so
much as say hello. “Go, save Rhian.”

“What do I do?” he asked wildly.

Michaela looked absolutely miserable. “Just
crack the door. He’ll come inside as soon as you do.”

Lachlan desperately wanted to pull her into
his arms and apologize profusely, but his sister was going to dislocate his
shoulder if he didn’t get moving.

He paused at his front door and took a deep
breath before unlocking it. He knew the press wasn’t allowed on his front porch
without his permission, since he’d asked them to leave, but he wouldn’t be
surprised if someone tried something stupid anyway.

The moment he released the lock, the knob
turned. Lachlan raised his hands, ready to slam it shut, just in case. Rhian
slipped through the door before Lachlan could smash it into his face.

“Easy there, killer,” Rhian said quietly,
locking up behind him. He hugged Lachlan fiercely. “You doing okay?”

Lachlan held on, all but sagging against
his friend. “I’m all right.”

He sighed when he was enveloped by his
sister and Garrick, too, letting himself enjoy the comfort of his family, their
fierce embrace smoothing his jagged edges.

Michaela didn’t come any closer, standing
alone in the kitchen and watching them, her shoulders slumped and her face miserable.

“Come here,” he said, holding out a hand.

She shook her head after barely a second of
eye contract. Lachlan frowned and let his arm drop. When he pulled away from
the others, they all turned toward Michaela. She shifted uncomfortably, not
looking at any of them.

“Come on,” Lachlan said, walking to her and
wrapping his fingers around her delicate wrist. She didn’t resist when he
pulled her from the kitchen and through the living room. “We’ll be right back,”
he said to their audience, ignoring the various looks of concern, which morphed
into smirks when he went for the stairs.

His house wasn’t very big, and he wasn’t
going to have this conversation within earshot of his sister and de facto
brothers-in-law unless he wanted the rest of the family to know everything that
was said by sunset.

Michaela followed him, uncharacteristically
meek and silent. Her smile was sad when she saw the framed photos lining his
stairs, mostly of his family and his various youth hockey teams, ending with
the huge shot of his team at Harvard when they’d won the championship.

Once upstairs, he tugged her into his bedroom
and closed the door. She hovered there, not looking at him, and for the first
time in a long while, he wasn’t sure what to say to her.

“So,” she said quietly, “we finally made it
into a room with a bed.”

Lachlan huffed out a laugh. She always knew
how to put him at ease. “Sorry we can’t make good use of it,” he said sincerely.

Her smile was sad. “I’m sure the last thing
you want is to be with me…like that…right now.”

Lachlan frowned and brushed his hand down
her arm. “That’s not true,” he admitted. “I pretty much always want to be with
you
like that.
”

“You don’t mean that.”

He did. Absolutely. But he didn’t know how
to convince her of the truth. Not with words. So instead, he slid his hand
slowly up over her shoulder and behind her neck. Her eyes widened as he slipped
his fingers into her hair and cupped the back of her head.

He held her close, not captive, and studied
her face. He wasn’t good at reading most people. But he could often figure out
his family. And maybe he’d gotten to know Michaela well enough.

Then again, the disbelief on her face was
probably obvious to anyone. He could guess what she’d thought would happen.
What she thought
should
happen in the face of all the attention they
were getting today.

And, if he were honest, the thought of
running away had a certain appeal. The press wasn’t exactly something he wanted
in his life. But that desire to flee was crushed beneath the ache that formed
in his chest when he considered not spending time with Michaela.

“I’m sorry I’m an idiot. I swear I wasn’t
avoiding you. I just turned off my phone and I didn’t know anything was
happening until this morning.”

Her mouth curled up on one side. “I know. I
got your texts and Savannah spent the entire trip here swearing it was just
like you to do something so flakey.”

“
Hey
,” he protested, though his
heart wasn’t in it. He’d have to thank Savannah later for her defense of him,
even if it had been insulting. “So, do you believe me?”

Because that was the real issue, he
realized. Not whether or not she knew the truth, but if she would believe that
he hadn’t abandoned her when she’d needed him. Not on purpose. Not like so many
other people had in the past.

He kept his eyes on hers and let her really
look at him, hoping she’d see the truth. He didn’t realize he’d been holding
his breath until she smiled.

“Yes, I believe you.”

He sighed with relief and pulled her close,
wrapping his arms around her for a long hug. She sagged against him, and he held
tight, trying to communicate as best he could that he was there. Still her
friend. Still her…whatever the hell they were.

When she lifted her head, he kissed her. She
curled her fingers into the front of his shirt, holding tight, and kissed him
back.

He didn’t pull away until he felt her sway,
and even then he couldn’t resist tasting her sweet, full lips a few more times
before he pressed his lips to the top of her head and held her tightly again.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured quietly into his
chest.

“It’s okay,” he said.

“You should be mad at me, you know.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is,” she said insistently.

“No, it’s not,” he said right back in the
same tone. “It
might
be a little bit Robby’s fault, but I’m not mad at
him, either.”

His heart did something weird and sort of
treacherous in his chest when she chuckled, the sound almost muffled by his
shirt.

He nudged her back and was discouraged to
see that, in spite of the hint of a smile and the color in her cheeks, she
still looked sad. He cupped her face in one hand and ran his thumb over her
cheekbone. “Tell me why you’re upset.”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I’m
ruining your
life,
” she said.

And Lachlan couldn’t help it—he burst into
laughter.

She scrunched up her nose, clearly annoyed,
but he didn’t let her move away, his arm still curled around her.

“It’s not funny,” she said tersely. “There’s
a pack of reporters on your front lawn.”

He got himself under control. “I’m sorry.
You’re right. It’s not funny that my house is under siege. But my life is not
ruined. And you’re neither so arrogant, nor enough of a drama queen, to get
away with saying shit like that, or believing that it’s your fault.”

“If I hadn’t dragged you to those parties,
you wouldn’t have been standing there,
as my date
, when Robby decided to
defend my honor after all these years.”

“He packs a lot of punch for a little guy.”

She smiled, grudgingly. “He does, bless
him.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, giving her a
little shake. “Blake needed punching. I’m just sorry I didn’t get a chance to
do it myself.”

“Don’t you
dare,
” Michaela said
sternly. “That would be a
gross
violation of
Michaela’s Rules for
Managing the Public
. If you think being a sideshow in this circus is a pain
in the ass, you really wouldn’t enjoy being the main event.”

Lachlan wished he could disagree, but he
was already living with the constant dread of going to his office and facing
down Dick. The fallout from this was going to be ugly enough as it was, though
he had no intention of sharing that with Michaela.

“So, how badly did I break the rules,” he
asked, turning the subject, “when I took Robby’s parents to task?”

Michaela’s smile widened into the
full-blown toothy grin.

Lachlan blinked down at her as some weird, sexy
version of the fight or flight instinct kicked up in his belly. When she smiled
like that, he wanted to tear her clothes off. And for some reason,
that
made him want to run away, as fast and as far as he could.

Maybe that was the fuck or flight instinct?
He didn’t think that really existed, but it was real enough to him.