I can’t stop wanting her…
Bri Welch likes to play it safe. I don’t. She’s wound tight, and I’m all about a good party. But there’s something about her that makes me want to pull those uptight layers away one-by-delicious-one. But the worst thing is she makes me want more…
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Discover the Love on Campus series… Letting Go
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Foolproof
Released
Beyond the Stars
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 by Jessica Ruddick. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Entangled Publishing, LLC
2614 South Timberline Road
Suite 109
Fort Collins, CO 80525
Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.
Embrace is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
Edited by Alycia Tornetta
Cover design by Louisa Maggio
Cover art from Shutterstock
ISBN 978-1-63375-621-2
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition March 2016
For Mom…for everything and more
Chapter One
Josh
I walked down the icy sidewalk, sliding a little on a patch of ice and almost busting my ass. Motherfucker. There were reasons I didn’t schedule classes before noon. It was too damn cold, too damn icy, and too damn early.
The letter in my pocket was dead weight, and I pulled it out to double check the time and location.
Student Academic Services Center, Room 341. Friday, 9:00 a.m.
I shoved it back in my jeans pocket.
I’d missed the first appointment, which was scheduled for Monday. That resulted in one letter, two phone calls—both before eight thirty a.m.—and three emails, which was why I was up and dressed at this ungodly hour: to stop the harassment.
If I wanted to be hassled about my grades, I would visit my dad.
I entered the building and climbed the stairs to the third floor. The door marked 341 led to a tiny waiting room that barely fit the two already occupied chairs. I signed in at the front desk and leaned against a wall to wait.
I didn’t have to wait long.
A girl came around the corner holding a file folder. She was wearing a black suit with her dark hair pulled back. Her skin was bronze, but it wasn’t fake like most of the tans around here this time of year. It was just her skin tone.
“Joshua Davidson?”
“That’s me.”
She looked me over like I was a piece of gum that needed to be scraped off her shoe. Huh. That was not a look I was used to. What bug crawled up her ass and died?
“Come with me, please.” She turned and passed through a door that led to a sea of cubicles.
I followed her, my gaze drifting down to her ass. Well, looks like this morning isn’t a total loss.
She had a nice ass.
I followed her past the cubicles and into an office where a middle-aged man with a bad comb-over was chomping on a doughnut, getting powdered sugar all over the papers strewn on his desk.
He licked his fingers and motioned for me to sit.
“Joshua?”
“Josh.”
“Josh,” he repeated. “You’re probably wondering why you’re here.”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t even know this guy’s name, but I felt like I was back in the high school principal’s office after my buddies and I streaked butt-ass naked through a senior assembly that one time.
Good times.
“I’m Dr. Weathersby, Director of Academic Services. Whenever we have a new recruit, I always like to personally welcome them aboard.”
“New recruit?” I repeated. Last time I checked, I hadn’t signed up for anything.
He stood, and a blanket of powdered sugar fell off his lap like snow. “For the next semester, you’ll be reporting here for academic counseling twice a week.”
I leaned back in my chair. “No thanks.”
“Excuse me?”
“No thanks. I don’t need counseling.”
Dr. Weathersby chuckled. “It appears you do, Josh. You’re one semester away from being dismissed from the university.”
My stomach plummeted into my shoes and then bounced back up again.
Dismissed? What?
“We want all our students on academic probation to succeed,” he continued, “which is why we’ve implemented a support system for those who need it.”
“I don’t need it,” I muttered, leaning forward and putting my head in my hands.
Academic probation.
I was a slacker, but I wasn’t stupid. I’d nearly aced my SATs.
But now I was about to flunk out.
Fucking shitballs.
Sure, I skipped class sometimes, but didn’t everyone? And sure, I’d failed a few exams—okay, classes—but I had no idea all my grades had sunk so low.
Maybe I should actually read the mail and emails from the university.
“It was nice meeting you, Josh.” Dr. Weathersby held out his hand. I stared at him blankly. I hadn’t heard a damn word he’d said.
I stood and reluctantly shook his hand.
“You’ll be in good hands with Ms. Welch.”
I looked over my shoulder at the girl who’d brought me to the office. I’d forgotten she was there.
“Follow me, please,” she said.
I shoved my hands in my pockets and followed her, feeling like a damn dog being led around on a leash. I wanted to kick the door, punch the wall…something.
This fucking sucked.
How quickly could I get out of this mess?
She stopped at one of the cubicles and somehow managed to squeeze herself behind a desk that was much too big for the space.
I raised my eyebrows. No way. She could not be my academic counselor.
She gestured to the folding chair in front of the desk. “Have a seat.”
Holy shit. She was. This could get interesting.
I wedged myself into the chair, my knees smashed against the desk’s metal paneling.
She opened the file and spread out some papers. “It says here your major is history.”
I frowned. “It is? I thought it was finance.”
She flipped to another page. “No, that was your major two majors ago.” The girl literally looked down her nose at me. “
You’ve been through six majors in the last two years.” Her voice dripped with distain.
This was bullshit. Who did this chick think she was, judging me?
I nodded. “Sounds about right.” I twisted in my chair to stretch my legs out, crossing them at the ankles. Might as well get comfortable for the interrogation.
She looked at me briefly, her dark eyes narrowing, then returned her gaze to the file. “So back to your major—”
“We should probably change that to finance.”
“You’ve taken four courses that count toward fulfilling the history major requirements,” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “It looks like you’ve fulfilled all of the general ed classes, which isn’t surprising considering the…variety in your coursework.”
I smiled, widening my grin when I saw that she was grinding her teeth. “They say variety is the spice of life.”
“We’re required to meet twice a week.” She pulled a paper out of my file. “Judging from your schedule, it looks like your mornings are wide open. How about eight thirty on Mondays and Thursdays?”
I crossed my arms, waiting a beat. “You know, on second thought, let’s change my major to engineering.”
She folded her hands. “Mr. Davidson, is this a joke to you?”
I almost snorted. Mr. Davidson was my dad, and this girl couldn’t be more than a day older than me.
I smiled again. “Why would it be a joke?”
Normally I wasn’t such a jerk. Most girls would even call me charming. But something about this chick just made me want to push her buttons, and it was so easy. She left them all hanging out there. Not to mention the godforsaken hour I had to get up this morning didn’t make me inclined to play nice.
“There’s no indication in your file that you have any motivation to actually graduate.”
The smile faded off my face.
“You’re in your third year here,” she continued, and I couldn’t help but think she sounded smug, “but your number of academic credits classifies you as a sophomore. It looks like you’ve taken the minimum course load every year.”
I didn’t say anything, and she looked at me expectantly. “Well?” she said finally. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
“Sure.” I leaned forward. “What are you doing Saturday night?”
…
Bri
“Excuse me?” I must have misheard him.
“Saturday night.” He grinned, as if he weren’t sitting across from his academic counselor, as if he weren’t on academic probation, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “You doing anything?”
I tried to control the flaring of my nostrils. None of my grad classes had covered how to handle a prick with a “God’s gift to women” complex.
“Excuse me.” This time it was a statement—and my exit cue. I shimmied out from behind my desk, trying very hard to feel professional, but failing. These cubes were designed for kindergarteners, not grad student interns.
I kept my back straight as I walked toward the kitchen, all the while feeling his gaze on my ass. Guys thought they were slick, but what they didn’t realize was that women had a sixth sense about these things.
Once safely in the kitchen, I closed the door firmly behind me and grabbed a paper cone from the water dispenser. I hated those things—who ever thought it would be a good idea to put liquid in a container that couldn’t be set down?
I filled the cone with cool water and held it against my forehead.
After a semester of shadowing another counselor, I was used to dealing with misguided students, students who partied too hard their freshman year and let their grades go to the wayside. Some of them had actually cried while sitting across from me in my cube. I could handle tears.
I couldn’t handle flippant.
I’d dealt with a few unfortunate souls who probably shouldn’t have been admitted to the university in the first place. Those cases were difficult—when I knew the student wasn’t going to make it, but as their academic counselor, I had to help them try anyway.
Josh Davidson wasn’t like that.
I could tell he was far from stupid.
Lazy? Yes. But stupid? Not so much.
Which made his behavior completely unacceptable in my book.
People who squandered their God-given talents pissed me off. Some of us had to work ourselves to the bone to get ahead.
But this wasn’t about me. It was about me doing my job and helping Josh achieve to his full potential.
I took a deep breath, drained my water, and squared my shoulders. I had to go back out there.
I walked slowly through the maze of cubicles. Josh was right where I’d left him—taking up most of the space, lounging with his legs stretched out and his hands folded behind his head in the hard, plastic chair. Somehow he made it look comfortable.
“Excuse me.” My cheeks flushed as I realized that was the third time I’d used that phrase. Squeezing past him, I settled back behind my desk.
An apology was on the edge of my lips, but I held it in. Judging by the smirk on his face, he wasn’t going to apologize for his inappropriate behavior, so I wouldn’t apologize for mine.
I cleared my throat and looked down as his schedule again. “So, eight thirty on Mondays and Thursdays?”
He shrugged. “Mornings aren’t really my thing.”
My nostrils flared. I didn’t bother to try to stop them. There was no point. Instead, I folded my hands on my desk. “What exactly is your thing?”
He shrugged again, running his finger along the edge of my desk. “I’m more of an evening person.”
“This office is open from eight to five.”
He smiled, the kind of lazy, self-satisfied smile you’d expect to see on a cat that had just spent an hour licking itself. “Then I guess this just isn’t going to work out, is it, sweetheart?”
“Excuse me—” Sheesh, I really did need to expand my vocabulary, but that was all I could think with what was coming out of this guy’s mouth. “You can address me as Ms. Welch. And despite your best efforts to dissuade me, I am here to help you. I expect to see you here in this office Monday morning at eight thirty.”
I stood and held out my business card, a clear sign that it was time for him to leave.
He reached out, but instead of taking the card, he took my hand in his and pulled it to his lips. Then he freaking kissed my hand.
“It’s been a pleasure, Ms. Welch.”
He sauntered out with my card in his hand and a smirk on his face, leaving me with my mouth hanging open.
Chapter Two
Josh
Hitting on my academic counselor probably wasn’t the best idea I’d ever had, especially since my offer was facetious. In other circumstances—ones where Ms. Welch didn’t have a stick lodged firmly up her ass—I’d be happy to take her on a date. Get her out of the suit and put her in some normal clothes, and she’d be hot—more than hot.
Ms. Welch. That was another piece of bullshit. Hell if I was going to call her that. As I descended the stairs, I looked at the business card she’d given me. Brianna. That was her name.
As I pushed through the exit, the cold slammed into me, and I zipped up my coat. I hesitated on the stairs of the building, not sure which direction to go. My first class wasn’t until noon. Despite my academic probation and slacker ways, I’d actually attended all of my classes so far this semester. Granted, that had only been a week, but still. I should probably go to the library to study or something, but instead I turned toward downtown, where there was a local doughnut shop. It closed at eleven, so it’d been a while—maybe freshman year—since I’d been up early enough to get there before it closed.
A couple of familiar faces came toward me on the other side of the walkway. Ordinarily, I’d be happy to see these two, but not right now.
I ducked my head and kept walking, positioning myself behind a guy who had to be a linebacker. I was pretty tall, but this guy was a beast.
&n
bsp; “Josh!”
Damn.
“Cori, hey,” I said, stepping off the path to allow others to pass. “I didn’t see you.”
Her furrowed brow told me she saw through my bullshit lie. Still, she disconnected her hand from her boyfriend Luke’s and stood on her toes to give me a hug.
I hugged her back, feeling guilty. I nodded at Luke, my fraternity brother who lived down the hall from me in the house. The two of them had been through a rough patch recently, but I was glad to see they were back together.
“What are you doing here?” Luke asked.
I grinned, trying to seem more like my normal self. “What? On campus?”
“Well, yeah,” Luke said. “It’s before ten.”
He made a good point. The only reason I had willingly gotten out of bed before ten in the last few years was to tailgate for a noon football game.
“Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf.”
Luke just laughed. To Cori’s credit, she didn’t laugh, but she did grin.
“I haven’t seen you much lately,” Cori said. “We need to hang out.”
“I did try to hang out with you,” I said pointedly. “But you guys had other plans.”
Cori blushed, and I almost felt bad.
Nah, I didn’t feel bad.
Since the two of them had gotten back together, they’d been spending a lot of time behind locked doors. I made a habit of banging on Luke’s door whenever I walked by. Just because.
She punched my shoulder lightly. “We’re hanging out tonight. Bonfire?”
“You got it.”
She smiled and laced her hand back through Luke’s. “Make sure your guitar is tuned.”
“Always.”
…
I threw another log on the fire, watching the flames dance in the black inky sky. There was no moon tonight, and without the fire it would’ve been pure darkness. It was still early—just after seven—but I was restless.
What if I actually flunked out? I sure as hell wasn’t going back home to my dad’s house. No fucking way. I’d rather camp out on the sidewalk in a refrigerator box than deal with that shit 24-7.
I could get a job.
Yeah, right. I hadn’t had a job since that stint flipping burgers my senior year of high school. It’d lasted about two weeks. And it didn’t pay that well from what I could recall.
Wanting More (Love on Campus #2) Page 1