True North Book 3 - Finding Now Kate and Sam (4 page)

I snatched the papers out of his hands. “Thanks,” I said sourly.

“I’m Sam.” He smiled and folded his arms over his muscular but not too bulky chest. Did he have to be a rough, rugged rocker mix between Jamie Dornan and Jensen Ackles? His dark brown hair was cut short in the back with bangs that swept over his deep brown, smoldering eyes; the color reminded me of a Hershey’s Special Dark bar. He had a black eyebrow piercing and a silver lip ring that curved over the middle of his thick bottom lip like a fishing lure for women.

“Of course you are.” I turned away and moved quickly down the center aisle steps to the professor’s desk.

“Come on, don’t be like that.” He followed me down. “We have a whole semester to be here … together.” As he said this, he set his fisted knuckles onto the desk. I was sure as a display so that I could see just how his arm muscles bulged at the action. He was wearing a short sleeved white tee and had colorful tattoos that started at his wrists and disappeared under his sleeves. Leather bands decorated his wrists. “You could sit next to me.” He winked. “Seat’s still vacant.”

I was sure it wouldn’t be for long. “Sorry, I already have my assigned seat,” I quipped.

“Your name then.”

“Catherine.” I set the piles of papers onto the desk.

“Catherine.” He let it roll off his tongue in a very sexy way. “See, that wasn’t so difficult.”

He looked up and down my very covered body, and I felt like he was somehow peeling off each article of clothing and tossing it to the floor. It gave me chills.
How the hell did he do that?
Look right through me that way?

I saw the lecture hall was filling up now, and somehow I was grateful to have Sam here, distracting me long enough for the butterflies to forget to swarm.

“You better get back to your seat before you lose it,” I warned.

“My jacket’s on the chair, I’m not worried.” He turned and sat his denim covered tight ass on the side of the professor’s desk like he had every right in the world to be there. “How about after this sleepy class you come with me for a cup of coffee?”

I rolled my eyes, took a piece of chalk from the desk drawer, stepped to the blackboard behind me and wrote,
Professor Jolie
. When I turned back around to face Sam, I could tell by the look in his eyes he obviously got it.

“
Professor
Catherine Jolie,” Sam said more than asked.

“Yes, Mr. Samuel …?”

“North. Sam North.” He didn’t miss a beat.

“Excellent. Why don’t you take that seat now?” I set my laptop on the desk and opened it to pull up the morning’s lecture.

Mr. North was still standing there. “But you haven’t answered my question yet.”

“What question was that?” I didn’t look up from my screen.

“If you’ll come out for coffee with me.”

I almost barked out a sarcastic laugh, but caught myself just in time. The lecture hall was almost filled. Everyone was either readying their materials, talking or watching us, wondering what was going on.

I leaned in and lowered my voice. “I’m the professor.”

“Yeah, I got that. Now what about that coffee?”

I shot him an incredulous look.

Before I could answer he smiled. “Good, I’ll take that as a yes.” He lifted his eyebrows then bounded to his chair.

Focus, Catherine.
But, I couldn’t help but take another glance at Sam North. Even with all of his peacocking he was instantly and extremely likable.

“Good morning, class, I’m Professor Jolie and I’ll be your tour guide through the exciting world of renewable energy,” I announced.

Of course Mr. North wasn’t even fazed. He lifted his textbook from his backpack and opened it up like he was the model enthusiastic student, smiling at me the whole time.

“Feel free to use a recording device to take notes, because we have a lot to cover in a short period of time and I talk fast,” I cautioned. “And I’m sure I don’t need to warn you about text messaging or phone calls during class. You are adults, after all, here for your master’s degree.”

What the …?
I was sure Sam just winked at me!

I shook it off and began my prepared lecture on the principles and practices of wind energy conversion.

Forty minutes later my iPhone vibrated in my skirt pocket. That was my five- more-minutes alarm. I wrapped it up, and a moment later the buzzer indicating class was over went off.  Everybody began high-tailing it out into the hall in a swarm as I gathered my stuff together, arranging it into my briefcase.              

When I looked up everyone was gone except for Sam North.

“Don’t you have someplace to be?” I asked curtly.

“Right here’s fine with me,” he said. “But coffee with you would be even better.”

“Yeah, about that, my answer is definitely no,” I said.

“No? No what?” He looked confused.

“No coffee.”

“You don’t drink coffee?”

“Sure I drink coffee.”

“Oh, so you just don’t want to drink coffee with me?”

“Mr. North …”

“My dad is Mr. North … well not even him really. Just call me Sam.”

“Sam … I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Do you think I’m a stalker or murderer or something? ’Cause I’m not. I could even give you references,” he offered.

“You’re a student—”

He interrupted me. “A master’s student who’s twenty-two years old and old enough to drink coffee with my professor … among other things.”

I choked. “Well, I’m twenty-six. That’s almost half a decade older than you.”

“I’m an engineer major, I know my math.”

“Good, then you’d already computed that.”

“So you’re an age-racist?”

“A what?” I startled. “No.”

“Then why won’t you go with me for coffee?” He folded his arms over his chest like he wasn’t going anywhere.

“I don’t go out for coffee with my students no matter how old they are,” I said in a tone that I hope relayed finality.

“Fine.” He smiled. “Then drinks tonight it is. I’m performing at the Crocodile at seven. Where can I pick you up?” he sang cheerfully.

I shook my head, dumbfounded, as I grabbed my briefcase and walked toward the door.

“Come on, let’s just talk. You’re not wearing a ring, so I’m assuming you’re not taken?” He was literally following me out of the building.

The bright sunlight was a nice surprise. In my few months here in Seattle I hadn’t seen much of it.

Sam was still chattering on behind me, and I only had a little time to grab some lunch and get back.

I walked faster and barked, “Why would you want to go out with me when I’m sure you have a million girls waiting in line?”

“I knew it!” he said excitedly and jumped in front of me, stopping me in my tracks. “You do think I’m good looking! Or else you wouldn’t think I have girls waiting in line.”

“I don’t go out with students, period,” I snapped. Sam looked like all kinds of trouble rolled up into one hot package. “Of course I noticed you’re good looking. I’m sure every girl on campus has noticed you, but I’m not interested.” I steered around him and kept walking.

              “I can’t pick you up if you don’t give me your address,” he called from behind me.

He had literally walked me all the way to the bus stop. He did not like to take no for an answer.

Probably never had someone tell him no before,
I thought.

              “Good luck at your performance. Or do most people say ‘break a leg?’” It was a dramatic exit as I moved up the steps of the bus and the driver closed the door.

I couldn’t help making my way to the back of the bus to look out the window. Sam stood there, looking after it with the widest grin on his face. I had a feeling he wasn’t the type to give up easily.

Chapter Three

“Hapless”

Seven Day Sonnet

Catherine

It’s ironic, my lifestyle. But who am I to question what makes me feel comfortable and sane?

I found an empty corner table at Kells Irish Pub and ordered a beer and fish sandwich for dinner. My second class had gone much more smoothly than the first, and I was kind of proud of myself that I had survived the day.

I texted my mom back. I’m sure she was climbing the ceilings wondering if I was okay. I thought of the lyrics to “I’m Not Okay” from My Chemical Romance. I couldn’t text her that, now could I? Anyway, that was a Kate song.

I’m fine mom. It all went great. Having dinner.

It wasn’t very nice of me; I should have called her. She didn’t deserve my silence. She was a great mom, but she loved to remind me. I couldn’t be reminded now. I turned off my phone so if she called or texted back, I wouldn’t know.

Kells had become my favorite haunt since I’d gotten here a few months ago, so I came here every night. It was really the perfect habitat. I was always surrounded by people—never alone. I drank in their warmth and noise and emotion like a soul eater. I eavesdropped on conversations and somewhere in the coldest space inside of me pretended these people were my friends. If I told anyone, I knew I’d sound like a fucking lunatic, so that’s why my mandatory headshrink thought I just hung out at home reading books and watching TV shows. Screw that. When I was really alone, that’s when the torture started and the memories played like a horror film—every demon, every monster—up close and personal to remind me of my very own intimate hell.

I was grateful I had this place, filled with distracting noises. The band tonight was pretty good too. Not Kate’s kind of music, but it was good, and it was growing on me. Indie folk was cool. And it took guts to get up there and perform, especially in a time when people were assholes and liked to think they were Simon Cowell and judge singers and bands as if this were American Idol. Whatever, I always tipped them.

Since I’d been coming here for months, the servers had my routine memorized. First beer came when I sat down, which was usually around six p.m. An hour later, my sandwich. At eight came my second beer, then the rest of the night was an endless cup of coffee. I left at eleven, went home and took a pill to sleep. The next morning I’d wake up, walk on my treadmill, ready things for my upcoming class and do it all over again.

Tonight I found myself thinking of Sam North. I was sure he’d
love
to follow me around on my broken, boring, old lady routine.

I pushed him out of my head as fast as he came into it. He could wake Kate up like the sunrise.

The soul-sucking headshrink said I shouldn’t refer to Kate as a separate entity. I bet if my headshrink lived through what I had, she’d shut the fuck up.

Classes went on as usual. Six weeks had passed and Sam North asked me out every … single … day. The conversations were comical. Same thing every time—he’d come into class early, stop at my desk and ask, “Coffee?”

I’d answer, “No,” without looking up from my papers or laptop.

Then he’d say, “Drinks?”

And I’d answer, “No again.” Making sure to be physically ignoring him.

And he’d say, “One day, Jolie, you’re going to say yes.”

It was now a ritual.

Another ritual was watching the girls who tried to get to class early enough to sit in the seats closest to him. He was gorgeous, and they fell all over themselves trying to get to him to notice them.

One day between classes, right after my quick lunch, guilt was eating away at me. I hadn’t called my mom since school started and I couldn’t keep putting it off. I dialed her number.

It barely rang when I heard her voice. “Oh my God! You’ve had me worried sick! You know, you could at least send me a text to let me know you’re okay!” She was pretty upset. Rightfully so, but it was also her fault. I breathed through that thought and the one that said I should let her know it.

“Yeah I get it, Mom. I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay?” The concern in her voice frustrated me.

“Yes, Mom, I take all my pills like I’m supposed to and see the soul-sucking headshrink once a week. The teaching position is going well too.” I couldn’t keep the biting sarcasm out of my tone.

“If you’re not happy, darling, you can always come home,” she reminded me.

“I know … Mom.” I forced my tone to soften. “How’s Dad?”

“Great. Off in the woodshop as usual.”

I nodded. My dad built custom cabinets.

I walked barefoot through the grass toward More Hall. A mist was falling, and it felt good and cool against my skin.

“Do you like your students?”

Why was it when she asked me that, Sam North was the first person I thought of?

“Students are fine. Most of them couldn’t care less about the lectures.”

“Well, I bet they hate having a professor almost as young as they are,” she chuckled.