Colleagues Page 2

  Hope had no plans this year. She was celebrating her two-year divorce mark, but who was counting, but she had no kids or family to make plans with. Her dad lived out of state and was dating his flavor of the month, so there was no one to worry about. She could go and be alone in that lovely place and get her paper written.

  The week went quickly, with the crazy flow of assignments and drafts due and students trying to cross everything off their lists before Spring Break. Gratefully, that child Christian had only come once, and she’d been talking to Kaitlyn at the time, so no problems there.

  Hope had only seen William once the whole week, and he had curtly nodded to her like their conversation the weekend before had never happened.

  Fine with me, buddy. Fine with me.

  She didn’t have time to date anyway. She didn’t want to date. One broken heart and broken home and broken life had been enough. Her husband had been the stereotypical idiot who slept with his 22-year-old secretary and wanted to marry her instead, so she was just fine not riding that train again.

  Hope gathered the last of her research into her bag and closed up her office. She bee-lined it to her Jetta, which was already packed for the weekend, and made her way to the grocery store. After a quick “What do I want to eat” 30-minutes later, she was on her way up the freeway to the canyon. It was only about an hour and a half drive, and she was armed with the gate code and the assurance that the key was in the keybox with the same gatecode.

  It was the best hour and a half of her month.

  She had packed winter gear, though, because Spring Break or not, the area could get nasty in March. And as she drove farther and farther up the canyon, she was glad she had. There was still 6 inches of snow on the cabin balconies, and the clouds were looking less polite than they had from the valley.

  She pulled up the steep driveway to the cabin, noting the grey Land Rover parked in it.

  Weird. Maybe the trustee is here to check on me or something. Or the cabin across the way needed more parking…?

  She parked and gathered one load of her stuff and made her way to the door. It was unlocked—not that she was really surprised—as per the Land Rover.

  But she was a single woman after all, so she leaned across the doorjamb, “Hello?”

  No answer.

  She walked in a little farther and put her stuff on the couch closest to the door.

  “Hello? Anyone here? Anyone who owns a Land Rover?”

  “Uh, yeah, that’s mine.…” And William walked around the corner from the kitchen, looking just as shocked as she felt.

  “William?!”

  “What are you doing here?” He was, of course, scowling. It registered that she wasn’t sure how he carried of a surprised-looking scowl, but it was clearly possible with his facial musculature.

  “I was just about to ask you the same thing,” she said. “Do you help maintain the place or something?”

  He snorted in derision. “No, I don’t help maintain the place. I have it this week.”

  “Uh, no. No, you don’t. Mary had it this week, and she specifically told me I could have it instead,” Hope insisted.

  “I was told by Martin that there was a glitch in the schedule, and it was now free.”

  Hope bit her lip and raised her face to the ceiling, closing her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, William. Clearly there has been a misunderstanding. Were you planning on staying all week, or just a few days?”

  With a pained—and grumpy—expression, he said, “All week. I have an article I’m trying to finish.”

  She scrunched her face and put her head down. “Me, too.”

  There was silence for a few moments.

  “Well, Hope, I will just find another place to write. I will gather my things and be out of here in a moment.” William turned his huge frame and was about to quit the room.

  “No, William. You definitely were the first one up here. I think if Squatter’s Rights were in order, you’d win. It’s fine. I’m not unpacked yet, and you are. Sorry to have bothered you.”

  “No, Hope—“

  But she had already exited the door and was heading down the stairs. Dang it. I knew I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. She concentrated on going carefully down the steep driveway to her car, but she was carrying a ton, and she was wearing cute boots—cute boots that didn’t stand a chance on the black ice. She felt herself going down before she even knew why, and she twisted in mid-fall so as not to land on the bag with her laptop.

  But that meant she’d done something to her leg. Crap. She tried to shake it out a bit, just “shake it off” a la that one song, and she maneuvered around to try and get up, and then there was William.

  “Hope, are you okay?” She hadn’t registered what he was wearing in the house. But here he was, running down the stairs in jeans and a dark long-sleeved shirt—and barefoot—to help her up.

  “Ugh. I’m such a klutz. I’m fine. I just—“ but at that exact moment, she wasn’t sure exactly what she was going to say because he had righted her, and she went to put weight on her foot. And that hurt worse than most things. She crumpled, and sadly, because he was standing there with his hands on her elbows, that meant she crumpled into him.

  “Ow!” She blew out hard through her teeth. “Whoa, that hurts.”

  “What? What hurts?” Williams asked, seemingly concerned, but being very nice about the fact that her face was plastered into his chest as she grabbed onto him for support.

  “My foot—my ankle—my leg. Something. I can’t put weight on it.”

  “Shoot, Hope.” He sighed a very impatient sigh. “Here.” And with that, he scooped her up and carried her up the stairs, bags and all. He set her down on the couch, divesting her of her bags, and arranging pillows around her back and under her feet.

  All of this happened with Hope wearing what she was sure was a “What the hell is happening” face, including ridiculously wide eyes, and her not saying a thing.

  William looked down at her, puffing a little, and asked, “Which foot?”

  Hope, ever the articulate professor, could only point at her left one.

  William, still with the look of impatient annoyance, said, “May I?”

  She nodded, and he bent down, unzipped and pulled her cute half-boot off that foot. She could see it was already swollen, and even that act made her recoil and suck in an urgent breath through her teeth. Tears were streaming out of her eyes at the pain, but she refused to cry for real. Even though she wanted to.

  He lifted her calf gently and softly moved her foot around a bit. “I don’t think it’s broken, but there are 26 bones in the foot and ankle, so there’s no way of knowing without an x-ray.”

  “Uh, I thought you were a history professor. When did you learn…?”

  “I just like to stay informed.”

  “Okay,” she said, laughing a little to break the tension and ease the pain.

  He looked at her, then, and taken aback by the evident tears, said, “Oh, I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”

  “No. It just hurts. Thank you so much for helping. I feel like an idiot.”

  “It’s fine. But you’re not going anywhere right now.”

  “No, it’s okay, really. It’s my left foot. I can still drive,” and she made to sit up, breathing through her teeth to not cry.

  “Don’t be stupid.”

  She recoiled at the harsh tone. “Excuse me?”

  He backpedaled. “I just mean, you don’t have to go. I can leave. It makes far more sense.”

  “Except for the fact that I need to see a doctor now. And if it is broken, I’d be stuck on this couch all week. It’s much better that I get to my own house—where I can reach everything and my neighbors can come help.”

  He looked at her under his scowl, then he seemingly deflated. “Hope. I really don’t hate you.”

  “Of course not—this has nothing to do with that.”

  His perma-scowl got deeper. “Oh, I think it does.”

&
nbsp; “Don’t be silly. You just got here first.”

  “Look, I’m going to get you an ice pack. Then, I’m going to get your stuff from your car. And then I’m going to go pack up mine. Okay?”

  “Ummm, yes and no. I really do appreciate you being willing to let me stay, but I also don’t think I can make it down those stairs again, let alone with my things. So, I’m really grateful you’re being so nice. Um, but I actually just want to go home.”

  “Okay. Let’s compromise. How about I make you dinner while you recuperate a bit. Then, you can drive home and have your foot checked tomorrow?”

  She moved to protest, and he lifted his hand to stop her. He continued, “I was already making it when you arrived, so it’s just a matter of waiting for it to finish baking. There’s plenty.”

  And with that, he turned and went into the kitchen.

  Hope put her head back against the couch armrest and let tears flow down—90% pain and 10% disappointment. She’d really wanted this week to be carefree and productive. And now it would be neither.

  William walked around the corner and immediately backed back up into the kitchen. She was crying hard now. It must hurt worse than she let on.

  He waited a moment or two, then cleared his throat as he rounded the corner, crunching the bag of frozen peas in his hand.

  “Here’s this for your ankle.”

  He arranged the thin towel he’d brought over her foot, then gingerly placed the peas on it. It was already starting to bruise, and there was no way she was going to be able to walk on it anytime soon.

  He looked up at her face, and she was watching him. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Do you need anything else out of the car?”

  “Um, no. Not really. There are groceries, but it’s cold enough out there that they’ll be fine.”

  He grunted his assent. Ugh. She’ll think that was rude. “I’m going to go get you some ibuprofen.”

  He walked up the stairs to the bedroom he’d decided to take and rooted around in his bag for some pain meds. He didn’t find any, so he tried the medicine cabinets in both bathrooms. The main-floor bathroom was fairly well-stocked, so he just brought out a couple options.

  “Found some.” And he walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

  It was killing him that she was hurting. And that she was in the house. And that he was next to her. And that he was going to have dinner with her. He didn’t even know what to say to her, for heaven sake. He didn’t know if she had a husband or a boyfriend or anything. He just knew she was beautiful and that he was ridiculously attracted to her. This is going to be a long night. I just need to ask her some questions. Get her talking about something. Just not literature—because if she does that, I’ll just want to kiss her.

  He checked on dinner while he was in there and brought out the glass.

  “Just a few more minutes on dinner,” he said. Next… “So, do you need to call your husband or partner or someone to let them know you’re okay or that you’re injured?” he asked, trying to be normal.

  She smiled a fake smile. “Nope.” She held up her empty ring finger.

  Okay, there’s a story there. That was the worst fake smile I’ve ever seen.

  “Oh, okay.”

  “What about you—surely a girlfriend wouldn’t want you to take such good care of a colleague.”

  “No girlfriend.” He looked right at her. Unless you’re volunteering.

  “Oh. Okay, then, we’re all good.”

  This is ridiculous. Hope, I think you’re beautiful. Would you believe me if I said I was immensely attracted to you, and that’s why I never talk to you?

  Instead, he said, “I’m sorry you’re hurt.”

  She laughed-sighed. “Yeah, me, too.” And more tears poured from her eyes.

  William hurried and grabbed a Kleenex box from across the room and carried it to her.

  “I’ll go check on dinner.” And he left her alone to cry.

  * * *

  The dinner conversation was just as stilted as ever, and William had no idea what to do about it. He couldn’t seem to string two sentences together. And she seemed intent on willfully misunderstanding his ineptitude as gruffness.

  He cleared the plates—they’d eaten the lasagna in the living room due to her stint on the couch—and leaned over the sink, trying to gather his thoughts. He didn’t know if he’d ever have a chance to clear things up with her ever again. And if he didn’t try, it was going to not only be ridiculous awkward at the university, but he also felt like he’d be an idiot. Here I go.

  He walked into the living room and sat down on the couch across from hers.

  “Hope, I—“

  She swung her feet around to sit up. “Okay. I think it’s time to start getting this show on the road. Thank you again so much for dinner, Professor Nash.”

  Ouch.

  “I think I’ll gather my stuff and just get going.”

  And he watched her fight with her boot, trying to get it on, and then fight to stand up, hobbling near the couch, holding on to it for dear life while trying not to appear like she was. But he let her. The “Professor Nash” bit sent a clear signal. They were back to their old selves. And he was to leave her alone.

  She gathered her bags and hobbled across the room, gritting her teeth, and opened the door.

  She muttered an obscenity under her breath, but he heard it.

  “Something wrong?” he asked calmly from the couch.

  “Snow.” And she sat down on the chair by the door and put her head in her hands.

  William got up and walked across the room. She wasn’t kidding. It had snowed a good 6 inches in the last hour and was coming down hard. There was no way she was getting out in her tiny VW. His Land Rover, though, would probably be fine.

  “Looks like I win after all,” he said. “I’ll get my things.”

  “William,” she said urgently.

  “I thought it was Professor Nash again.”

  She lowered her head. “I’m sorry. I’m in a really vulnerable spot right now. I may have just acted like I was fine, but this hurts worse than anything I can remember. And unfortunately, I’m going to look like an absolute baby right now. I’m not going anywhere tonight in that snow. There’s no way I can get down those stairs to my car, let alone dig my car out and make it through the canyon with this pain. And I can’t even get up the stairs to a bed without someone to help me. If you leave, you’ll have to take me with you because I can’t possibly stay here alone with my foot this way. If this is what it feels like with adrenaline in my system, how is it going to feel tomorrow when it’s stiff and cold?” And she looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

  He squatted down in front of her.

  “Hey, first things first: you do not bother me. I just suck at communicating. Are we clear?”

  She raised one side of her smile. “Okay.”

  “Second. I will happily get us back down the canyon if you want to go home. I will carry you down, pack your stuff into my car, and get us home with no problem. If you want to…” He took a big breath. “Or…”

  She tilted her head, “Or…”

  “Or, we could break some rules here.”

  Hope raised her eyebrows.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked her.

  “As in…”

  “As in, do you mind staying in a snowed-in cabin with your male colleague? Would you feel safe with me?”

  She looked at him—his huge frame, his scowling face, and the handsome features beneath that scowl. He was wearing a navy, long-sleeve t-shirt, somewhat more of a slim fit than the oxfords he wore to work, and dark jeans. He still hadn’t put on shoes or socks, and she found that lack of formality attractive. He was likely close to her in age—and she evaluated. Did she?

  “Yes…?”

  He smirked. She’d never seen a smirk on him before, and it suited him.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.” She nodded.

  “O
kay, because we’d be breaking all sorts of rules—mostly for the cabin. I don’t remember if the university has a policy against something like this.”

  She shook her head, confused. “Like what?”

  He looked at her again, clearly annoyed. No, he said I don’t annoy him. He just sucks at communicating.

  “Sorry, I really don’t know,” she assured him.

  “Inter-office dating, Hope. It will look like we’re here…”

  She slapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh!”

  “Glad you caught on. But no one but Martin knows I’m up here—unless they see my Land Rover, which I can move to make it look less suspicious. I can easily tell him you were here, so I left.”

  “Okay…”

  “What I’m suggesting is that either I can take us both home, and we can get your vehicle later, or we can both stay, and I will stay out of your way, but I’ll be here if you need me for that foot.”

  Hope nodded.

  “But if anyone finds out, it will look like we were here for a romantic week away. No one will believe we are just colleagues who shared a cabin.”

  “I see what you mean.” And she did. She’d never thought of him in that way—he’d made it impossible to consider anything warm with him—but she could definitely see what others would think. He was huge and handsome. Of course they’d think that. Wait. He really is handsome. Crap.

  She knew what the romance-novel version of this would look like—that they’d both stay there. But this was her life. And her reputation.

  “William, I don’t know the right answer here.”

  He looked right at her. “I don’t either.”

  “I trust you, I really do. I wouldn’t even mind if people found out. At least then I’d have an interesting social life.”

  He smirked again.

  “But I also don’t want to cramp your style, and I don’t want to force you to leave tonight if you don’t want to, and I kind of want to be in my house if I’m miserable.”

  “I would be flattered if people assumed you were with me,” he said.