Sticky Notes - A clean romance (Ethel King Series Book 1)

by Sherri Schoenborn Murray

  “And you don’t want to put your education on the back burner?” Carl’s voice was gentle.

  “Exactly.”

  “The right man will understand.”

  “Thank you, Carl, and I sincerely hope things work out with you and Miss . . . Marci.”

  “Wait . . . I’m playing golf with Evans next Saturday. How are you at pool? Have you ever been to the Slurp and Burp?”

  The Slurp and Burp was a landmark on the east edge of Moscow, a pool hall with plenty of gravel parking. “No. I’m awful at billiards and . . . beer.”

  “Thanks for calling, Katherine.”

  She flipped the phone closed, handing it to Benton. He slid it into his side pocket.

  “That wasn’t so bad.” His whisper sounded dry.

  Her hands were clammy and her face warm. “I hate this part of being single . . . declining men you’re not interested in.” Her gaze locked on Benton’s.

  “You’re pretty good at it.”

  “Thanks for standing here. I couldn’t have done it without you.” She gave him a moment to respond before she forced herself to take a step away. “Don’t worry about walking me home; I can almost see Grandma’s from here.” She waved a hand and walked briskly toward the corner of Lewis and Logan.

  “Katherine!” he called after her.

  Slowing down was the last thing on her mind. She needed to get home. Get her nose in a book . . . forget, forget, forget about how wonderful he was.

  “Katherine . . . is there a chance?”

  She stopped mid-block and, crossing her arms, glanced back at him. What did he mean a chance? The chance that they could get reported? The chance that he could get fired?

  “Do we stand a chance, Katherine?” His arms also crossed against his chest.

  She continued walking. In three and a half weeks, at semester’s end, she could think about it. Not now.

  “Katherine!” She rounded Lewis Street and, like an Olympic sprinter, never looked back.

  “Katherine . . .” His utterances sounded more annoyed than disappointed.

  Her hand on Grandma’s gate, she finally looked back. With his head tilted to one side, hands shoved deep into his cargo pockets, he strode toward her. The street lamp bathed the walkway in an ochre light. Somewhere along the way of spending too much time with Benton, she’d fallen in love with him.

  A professor having a relationship with a grad student is an efficient way to annihilate careers. Notice the plural. Despite someone else’s wisdom, harp and string music began to play.

  “I don’t think it’s very good timing, do you?” He stopped within arm’s reach.

  He was referring to them. His nearness while apologizing to Carl had not been good timing. Plus, he dated small-town women every Friday, and she did have her studies.

  “It isn’t good timing.” She nodded.

  He nodded thoughtfully while she lifted the latch. He closed the gate behind him, and his footsteps quickened as he followed her to the porch, and then the door. She opened it a few inches wide and turned slightly to regard him. He had a faraway look in his eyes like he was taking in a sunset. She needed to say something shocking that would ground him.

  “Your first batch of rolls—I wanted Grandma to use cayenne pepper instead of cinnamon.”

  Benton took her nearest hand. There was a look in his eyes that told her their walk maybe, just maybe, contained two goals.

  “Katherine . . .” Leaning toward her, he eased the screen door closed.

  Her heart pounded in her ears as she stared at the aluminum frame. He couldn’t kiss her.

  “Remember you want your gold plaque on the door, and you like being a history professor at the U of I,” she whispered.

  “I do.” His hands settled on her hips. His kiss was going to be the wonderful, memorable kind that would haunt her for the rest of her life because he might end up with Miss Palouse. And in the meantime, it would ruin both their careers.

  She had to give him reasons not to do the unthinkable. “Miss Palouse, Grandma, Joe, Claire . . . President Morrison . . .” Biting her lower lip, she stared up at him.

  He moved his hands to the small of her back and stepped even closer.

  Doesn’t he remember how I behaved in his office? It’s me, Katherine King. Miss Annoying. Inches away, he closed his eyes.

  “We can’t, Benton.” With her palms together on his chest, she separated them. They’d been centimeters away from kissing. Millimeters. Beneath her hands, his heart pounded like a gong. She forced herself to say the words that could keep them apart forever: “You’re enamored with Miss Palouse.”

  Closing his eyes, he nodded.

  “Thank heaven we remembered.” She managed a smile. “For a second there, I imagined Grandma peeking through the blinds, seeing us, and having a heart attack.” Beneath her fingers, his gong-like heartbeat quickened. What did it mean? Lifting her eyes to his, she resisted the urge to spider walk her fingers up and around his neck.

  If he asked, she had to tell him no, but, if he didn’t ask, maybe she’d let him kiss her. What in the world am I thinking?

  “What do you think, Katherine?”

  “About?” She tilted her head a bit as he leaned closer. Kissing her had to be his decision. She remained statue-like, teetering against the screen door until it was time to close her eyes. Quinn Benton was about to do the unthinkable. And, then without further interruption from her, he managed to follow through.

  The lapse of time that followed was immeasurable. The kiss might have gone on and on, and could have gone on longer, except he pressed his forehead to hers, ending their sweet bliss.

  “I’m . . . I’m sorry, Katherine. I should never have let that happen.”

  Kissing Benton had been surprisingly wonderful. She should probably open her eyes and unpucker, or he’d never make the mistake of kissing her again. She blinked and tried to comprehend what he’d just said. He’d said he was sorry. Hmm . . . Her heart felt like a roller coaster coming to a sudden stop on the downhill slope. She should probably disengage her arms from around his neck. She straightened the collar of his polo on the way down and patted the three wooden buttons. Slowly, she lifted her gaze. Despite the fact she had way too many credits in the master’s program, she was immensely attracted to him. And really, really, really liked kissing him.

  How had this happened? It was all Grandma’s fault. Her cinnamon rolls were proof that if you put cream cheese frosting on anything, bachelors would call it good.

  “I’m sorry, Katherine. Given the circumstances, we are probably spending too much time together, considering . . .”

  Funny how reason had kicked in for him after their kiss.

  “Good night, Mr. Benton.”

  Their glorious kiss hadn’t been gloriously mutual.

  Letting go of her elbows, he turned, missed the first step on the porch stairs, and fell headlong into Grandma’s rhododendron, which only last month hosted dinner-plate-sized lavender blooms. Benton growled a bit as he rolled out of the domed-shaped bush into Grandma’s front flower bed, trampling some of her bright orange marigolds. From there, he took the narrow concrete walkway to the gate. The latch wouldn’t cooperate, as it was sometimes sticky. So, he attempted to swing himself over the top of the white picket fence and snagged the cuff of his Dockers pants, ripping them in the process before heading north.

  Benton’s departing form reminded her of the time in third grade when Danny Coevally had kissed her cheek on the school bus right before his stop. She never saw him again because his family moved that weekend. Danny knew he was moving, but he hadn’t told her.

  Would she ever see Benton again? Then she remembered his Monday, Wednesday, and Friday lectures, the Friday night get-togethers at Evans’s, and his weekly dinners at Grandma’s.

  Katherine smiled. She’d see him again.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Five minutes earlier . . .

  The phone rang right in the middle of a great episode of Sixt
y Minutes. Ethel monkeyed with the remote control and turned it off. Using her forearms, she pushed herself out of the recliner and strode to the phone. “Hello.” She turned from the curio cabinet to face the front door.

  “Hi, Mom, it’s Pattie,” her daughter-in-law said. “Is Katherine there?”

  “No, honey, not at the moment.”

  “I gave Phil the update this afternoon about Professor B. and Carl. You remember that your son and I met during summer school. There’s a relaxed chemistry on campus during the summer. Katherine’s finally experiencing it.”

  “I don’t think she’s too tickled about it at the moment.” Ethel scanned the lace-curtained windows for any sign of Katherine and Quinn.

  “Why’s that?”

  “She went for a walk with Professor B. He told me that out of their professor group, he was chosen to speak with her regarding the way she handled Carl, the flagrantly good-looking—” Their conversation was interrupted by what sounded like a newspaper being tossed against the screen door.

  “That’s funny, we don’t get the paper in the evening. Hold on a minute, Pattie.”

  Ethel set down the receiver on a pile of junk mail and crossed the shag carpeting. She’d look through the peep-hole first before she’d open the door and let in moths. Placing her hands against the door, she peeked through the itty-bitty, flea-sized window.

  Katherine stood with her right profile to the door. Ethel adjusted her glasses, switched to her left eye, and squished her cheek into the wood. Quinn’s left profile, and then his shoulder, covered the peephole as . . . Stepping away from the door, Ethel’s hands flew to her mouth as she stifled a gasp. Quinn and Katherine were about to kiss! She’d seen it through the peep-hole with her own two eyes!

  Suppressing a giggle, she ambled back to the phone.

  “Pattie, are you still there?” she whispered.

  “Yes, Mom, is everything okay?”

  “Yesssss. Why yes, it is!” Ethel smiled.

  “Was it the paperboy?” Pattie asked.

  Ethel glanced toward the door. “Yes . . . Yes, it was. I should go now. I don’t want to miss Andy Rooney.”

  “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

  “Yes, honey, everything’s fine.”

  “Keep us posted.”

  “I will.” Ethel practically hung up on Pattie as she hurried to the recliner and turned the TV back on. She glanced toward the door and pretended to be immersed in Andy Rooney’s narrative about something as Katherine entered the front room alone.

  Before the door closed, Ethel glanced toward the sidewalk. Quinn was nowhere in sight. How odd. For a moment, she questioned if it was indeed Quinn that she’d seen on her front porch. She nodded yes, it had been Quinn’s profile, and Katherine had left with him.

  “How was your walk, honey?” With a lift of her chin, Ethel watched Katherine closely as she passed through the living room on her way to the kitchen.

  “Good, Grandma, it went fine.” Besides being a little bit red, Katherine appeared surprisingly calm for having just been kissed for the first time in over five years. Ethel turned off Andy and followed her granddaughter. When Ethel entered the kitchen, Katherine flung open the refrigerator. The bottles of relish and mayonnaise smacked together in the door.

  “There’s a little Jell-O salad from the other day,” Ethel said.

  Katherine shook her head and continued searching. Except for the fridge, there was no other light on in the kitchen. Ethel sat down in the chair that Quinn usually occupied. As her granddaughter explored the fridge, her profile was as red as an Early Girl tomato.

  “How did the apology go with Mr. Flagrant?”

  “Benton told you?”

  “Yes. He said that your walk would take awhile because he knew you wouldn’t take kindly to calling Carl and apologizing.”

  “You remembered his name.”

  “Yes, Carl from Lewiston. It’s the daily crossword puzzle that keeps me sharp. Where were we? Oh, yes, how was the apology?”

  “Better than I expected.” Katherine shrugged and grabbed a carrot. “He was more sensitive and understanding than I imagined.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s definitely for the best.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Katherine peeled and washed the carrot at the sink. “I don’t have time for a relationship, Grandma.” She sighed. “Once you’re a couple, there’s the longwinded phone calls, the movies, the fights, more phone calls, the breakups. It all takes time, and with my schedule, I’d be an idiot to even entertain a relationship.”

  Who was she talking about Mr. Flagrant or Quinn? Ethel pushed her glasses higher up the bridge of her nose and propped both elbows heavily on the table. Her granddaughter’s logic left a lot to be desired. The shrill of the phone ringing made both their heads turn.

  “If it’s Benton, Grandma, I’ll speak to him upstairs.”

  “Why upstairs, honey? And, why would he call, when he just left?” Ethel followed her into the living room and picked up the phone. “Hello.”

  “Hello, Ethel, it’s Quinn. May I speak with Katherine?”

  “Yes, please hold.” She waved her hand for Katherine to hurry upstairs. “For some reason, she wants to talk to you in private, so she’s grabbing the phone upstairs in her room. I hope you two haven’t been fighting.”

  “No, we haven’t been.” Quinn cleared his throat.

  She suppressed a giggle. How long had they been kissing on her front step behind her back?

  “I’m on, Grandma. You can hang up now.”

  Didn’t Katherine trust her? Ethel put her finger down on the little button. If it made a loud enough click, would Katherine think she’d hung up?

  “I still hear you breathing, Grandma.”

  Ethel set the receiver in the cradle with a solid click.

  Ж

  Katherine held the receiver against her ear. Benton had just left. That was the problem with relationships—they took time.

  “Katherine, we need to talk.”

  “Yes, I suppose we do.” He’d called to talk. Lying on the quilt-covered full-sized bed, she looped the phone cord between the fingers of her left hand and stared up at the attic room’s peaked ceiling. She just needed some Hubba Bubba bubble gum, and she’d be back in her junior high days.

  “I called Evans. I told him everything.” He sighed. “He thinks I may have misplaced my affection for Claire on you because I haven’t been able to meet her.”

  What? She’d never heard anything so ridiculous in all her life. He couldn’t possibly believe Evans? Why had Evans inspired him to take the walk and kiss her tonight if he was only going to turn around and tell him that?

  “What does Evans think you should do?” Her voice was as sweet as Laffy Taffy.

  “He thinks we should wait until I meet Claire before you and I spend any more time together.”

  What? That meant, at least, three weeks!

  “I think he’s right, Benton. You could have, unknowingly, transferred feelings that you have for Claire to me.” Was he really such a dummy? “Even though you’ve never met Claire, you’ve talked very highly of her, and you don’t even really like me.”

  “Listen to yourself, Katherine. You’re bright, beautiful, and, when you allow yourself to be, very diplomatic.”

  Hmm . . . Lessons in Diplomacy by Professor Quinn Benton Ph.D. Katherine sighed. Diplomacy was comparable to biting your tongue so hard you tasted blood while your words were honey.

  She stared at the hairline crack in the ceiling’s plaster. Had he ever said she was beautiful before? The compliment felt like a dull machete.

  “Let’s just move forward and pretend the kiss on Grandma’s front porch never happened.” Her voice was natural, bright . . . diplomatic. “Within three weeks, you’ll have met Miss Palouse, and you’ll have this all figured out.” One traitor tear coursed down toward her ear. “In the meantime, I’m not going anywhere. You know me, I’ll just have my nose in a book.”
<
br />   Poor, poor Angel. She’d thought she and Greg were really going somewhere; that is until the chili. At least with Benton, she’d only thought they were going for a walk. And there had only been one kiss. One amazingly wonderful kiss.

  “It would be much easier for me, Katherine . . .” Did he always sound so airy when he said her name? “If you were your old argumentative self.”

  “Oh, okay. I still have two hours of Lewis and Clark to read, so I should get off the phone.”

  “Oh . . . kay.” Was there pain in his voice?

  “Good night, Mr. Benton.”

  “Good night.”

  Katherine stared at the ceiling. Why did Evans encourage Quinn to kiss her, and then tell him not to spend time with her for three weeks? Transferring his feelings for Claire to her—why it should be illegal!

  Evans should be shot.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Katherine sat in her usual seat, second seat in from the left in the second row of Benton’s Civil War class. Would he still be employed by the university next semester? Only last night he’d kissed her, one of his grad students. His favorite grad student. She smiled.

  After taking two pages of notes, Katherine lifted her gaze toward the front of the room. Dressed in dark blue Dockers and a perfectly pressed Yale-blue polo, Benton appeared especially handsome as he leaned against the desk. If their eyes met, would he flub his lecture? Would it be obvious to fellow students that they’d kissed? It was best not to take a chance.

  He’d pursued her, three times, to be exact. But he’d also said, I don’t think it’s very good timing, do you? He’d displayed a little common sense. Most likely their nearness during Carl’s call had been too much. Benton probably hadn’t stood that close to a woman in over two years. That was probably the reason he’d kissed her. He didn’t even like her. His nickname for her was Miss Annoying, for goodness’ sake.

  The poor man must be kicking himself. She smiled. For a first kiss, it had been awfully wonderful. But it was best not to think about it. Not here. Her cheeks felt warm. Was she blushing?