Winning Her Forever. Harmony Evans
didn’t know the location of her class.
“Could my night get any worse?”
His laugh was deep and genuine. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard that comment from a woman.”
Sonya frowned at his audacious statement, which smacked of the type of egoism she’d grown up with in her own family and had eventually escaped.
She took a step closer to him, to the outer fringes of his personal space. His rough-and-ready aura felt familiar, almost cozy. Every fiber of her being wanted to step back again, but she held her ground.
“I’m sorry I made you spill your coffee, but I’ve had a really rough day, and I don’t need the sarcasm.”
She ignored his sardonic grin, dug into her messenger bag and dropped a crumpled five-dollar bill on the counter.
“I hope this covers your loss.”
He looked over at it, then back at her and his smile faded.
“Put your money away. I don’t need it.”
His sharp tone was like a switch, instantly flooding her face with embarrassment. She had the sense he was offended she’d even made the gesture, and now she wished she hadn’t.
She steadied her voice. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
She cupped her palm over the bill and stuffed it back into her bag.
His eyes, a deep chocolate-brown flecked with green, sought hers. Though he was a stranger, she couldn’t help but be drawn into the sphere of his intense gaze.
“I could wash your shirt for you,” she offered, only half kidding.
“Then I’d have to take it off,” he said grimly.
That’s the whole point, she thought.
Her lips began to tilt out a smile, but she forced them back into a straight line. He raised his brow, as if he’d read her mind, and a searing flame of attraction lit up her insides.
“Actually, I’m more worried about you. Are you sure you’re all right? You do look a little frazzled.”
She reached up and patted her shoulder-length curls. “You mean, frizzled, right?”
His laughter made her glow in all the places it shouldn’t. It felt honest and real and warm, not patronizing or unappreciative. She had a feeling that he was the kind of guy who wouldn’t care if she showed up at his door sans makeup or clothes.
“As a matter of fact, I’m lost,” she admitted.
“Oh? Are you a new student here?”
“Trying to be. I went to the assigned classroom on my registration form, but no one was there and no sign was posted. There has to be some mistake.”
“Maybe it was canceled?”
She frowned. “I hope not. Anyway, can you point me in the direction of the registrar’s office?”
The rain had slowed, so they ventured outside. He put his umbrella up and motioned her to join him.
He was broad-shouldered, and she barely fit under the umbrella as she sidled up next to him. He smelled faintly of sawdust and spice, making her think of crisp autumn leaves and a crackling, roaring fire. The barest hint of a dark shadow, apparent on his strong angled jaw, suited him.
He switched the handle of the umbrella to his other hand and pointed the way. His knuckles appeared slightly rough and her eyes traced the sinew of his muscled forearm up to where the fabric of his T-shirt stretched to accommodate his massive bicep. He emanated the kind of outward strength that a man couldn’t get from hours at the gym or behind a desk, but only from years of hard work.
As he gave her directions, his voice rumbled through her ears on a wave of authority and could probably make the most mundane topics sound exciting. If only she could listen to him, over and over again.
If only his arm was draped around her shoulders, tugging her closer and closer.
If only...
She sucked in a breath and woke up from her momentary daydream with a pleasurable tug in her loins and the knowledge that he was the cause.
“Thanks for the info.” She ducked out from under his umbrella and opened up her own. “I better get going, so I’m not late.”
His gaze lingered, agitating the butterflies already swirling in her stomach.
“See you again soon?”
Sonya shrugged, mumbled another thanks and left in a hurry, before she forgot the directions to the office.
See him again?
Not a chance.
She didn’t really have a type, but if she did, a T-shirt, tattoos and old work boots kind of guy wasn’t high on her list, even though he looked divine in all three. Yet a part of her longed to stay and sweep the edge of her knuckles gently against the planes of his bristled jaw, just to see if this rough-hewn man would shiver under her touch.
* * *
Why didn’t I get her name?
Trent gripped his umbrella and watched the beautiful woman hurry away. She seemed to glide along the slick wet pavement, lending a sense of elegance to her black old-school ankle-high sneakers.
Dark blue skinny jeans molded her slender hips and long legs. Her long neck reminded him of a swan, one of his favorite animals. When he was in college, he’d taken a zoology class and learned that swans mated for life. He had been fascinated with them ever since.
The green rain slicker zipped up high hid everything else, but he had a feeling he would like what was underneath, just as she seemed to like him.
His parents, whom he loved dearly, would soon celebrate their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Despite their insistence that he settle down, he wasn’t in a rush. Someday, he hoped to find a woman to love and protect for a lifetime. If the right woman stepped into his life, he wasn’t sure if he could make the leap from bachelor to husband. It was the permanence of marriage and the statistics of divorce that frightened him more than the fear of being alone for the rest of his life.
Like a cold engine, relationships were tricky to start, and even harder to keep going. Up until now, he hadn’t had the patience or the time.
But this woman, she was different.
The luminous glow of her caramel toned face would no doubt stay in his mind for a long time. The undercurrent of seriousness in her demeanor was equally attractive, although he had no idea the reason behind it.
The offer to launder his shirt had surprised and delighted him. This woman was a giver, not a taker. He could feel it.
The sense that he’d lost something he didn’t know he could have had grew stronger as she disappeared into the college’s nondescript administrative building.
He always made the first move, but this time he hadn’t. Big mistake.
He retracted his umbrella and looped his arms through the straps of his backpack. If he didn’t hurry, he’d be late, too. His heavy boots slapped against the cement as he walked toward Reed Hall, inhaling the rain-fresh air into his lungs.
He pinched the bottom of his T-shirt, wicking it away from his skin. He needed to change the thing before doing anything else.
When he got to the building, he ducked into a nearby men’s room and looked in the mirror. The shirt wasn’t the problem. He always kept an extra one or two in his backpack because getting dirty was just part of his job. He was a simple man, who liked to be prepared for anything.
When he got thirsty, he drank. On a hot day, he’d been known to unscrew the cover of his five-gallon water jug and pour the whole thing over his head. That