“No.” Layla’s stifled chuckle caught his attention, but he ignored it. “Sorry. No.”
Dr. Rankin held his gaze for a long moment before turning back to what she’d been saying.
“Busted,” came from Layla in a singsong whisper, but he continued to ignore her. He wasn’t going to be drawn into another whispering match with her and get in trouble with Dr. Rankin. Layla had caused him enough trouble today. He wouldn’t let her get to him again.
He managed to keep his attention mostly on the class discussion and ignore the way Layla’s hair swung forward when she looked down to write notes. And the way she ran her hands through it to push it back. And the curve of her neck when she swept it up and did that crazy thing with a pencil that chicks sometimes did to put their hair in a messy bun. How did a pencil keep your hair all wadded up on the back of your head? It made no sense to him. That’s why he studied literature and not physics.
“I hope everyone’s gotten their books for their projects already. Next week we’ll talk more about Temptation by Vaclav Havel. Thank you for a good discussion today, everyone.” Dr. Rankin turned to collect her things, signaling the end of class.
With his laptop and books safely stowed in his bag, Evan stood and faced Layla. She’d said she wanted to discuss their project. He had plans to go talk to Abby, his roommate’s girlfriend’s friend, about their book and see if he could get a better idea of the cultural background and some good ideas for where to go with their research. He’d done some Googling, and talked to Elena, his roommate’s girl who spoke Spanish. She’d laughed at him and said, “My parents are from Mexico, Coop. I don’t know any more about Chile or its culture, either now or in the past, than you do.” But she’d offered to put him in touch with Abby, a Spanish major, and Abby’d told him to come by the language department today after class.
While cursory research divulged information about the military coup in the seventies and the subsequent reign of terror, he didn’t know where to go with that. He always did better talking out his ideas with someone than just letting them rattle around in his own head. He liked projects where he got to work with a partner for that reason. Which had made Layla’s attitude toward him all the more frustrating. So he’d bounce his ideas off Abby to see if something good came out and try to force Layla to take him seriously.
But if she was willing to work with him … He didn’t know what might’ve precipitated this change, but he wasn’t going to question it. Hell, maybe she’d asked Dr. Rankin for a partner change and been lectured about her attitude. That made him smile.
He cleared his throat, but Layla didn’t look up from putting her things away. “So, you said you wanted to discuss our project.”
That got her attention. She looked up at him. “Yeah.” Standing, she shouldered her bag. “I did.”
“Great.” He could tell she wanted to say something else, but he didn’t want to keep Abby waiting, and he also didn’t want Layla to think she’d be dictating this whole project. “We have an appointment in the language department to discuss Chilean culture and the historical background of Allende and her book. Let’s go.”
Without letting her say anything, he headed for the door, but she caught up to him quickly. “Wait, what? Who are we meeting?”
He glanced back at her. “Her name’s Abby. Friend of a friend. But she agreed to help.”
She snorted and muttered something under her breath, but he didn’t catch it. Whatever. If she wanted to morph back into a frigid bitch, that wasn’t his problem. He’d do his part. If she wanted to do hers, she had that chance, but after the hot and cold treatment he’d gotten so far, he decided he didn’t care what she did. If she didn’t want to talk to Abby with him, then that was up to her.
Chapter Five
Layla almost had to jog to keep up with Evan’s long-legged pace. “Evan. Wait. Can you slow down a little?”
Without even glancing at her, he slowed enough to let her catch up. She still had to walk as fast as she could, while he appeared to be out for an easy stroll, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, pulling the denim tight across his perfect ass. Giving herself a mental shake, she tried not to focus on that. Part of the reason she preferred walking beside him was so she wasn’t tempted to stare. He didn’t ever need to know that, though. It would only add to his already colossal ego. If she had to work with him, she needed his head to be able to fit into the room with her, after all.
She had mixed feelings about going with him to meet with this Abby person. He’d said she was a friend of a friend. Was that code for “friend of a chick I screwed”? Was he still friends with chicks he’d screwed? Why was she thinking so much about him screwing anyone?
Or maybe this was an excuse for him to chat up some new chick. Why did she get dragged along for this?
But she was relieved when he held the door open for her to go inside and get out of the chilly February air. He’d taken off so quickly after class that she hadn’t gotten her jacket on, and he’d barely slowed down for her. She wasn’t sure if he’d stop for her to put her jacket on if she’d asked. And if this was actually something helpful for their project, she didn’t want to miss it.
Evan was back in front of her, leading the way to the Foreign Language department. She couldn’t help her eyes slipping down over the messenger bag nestled against the small of his back to his ass. His hands were out of his pockets now, so the denim wasn’t quite as molded to his glutes as before, but it was still a nice view.
Stop it, Layla. Don’t ogle the arrogant ass’s ass.
He led her through an open door, and she slowed as she entered behind him, glancing around the space. She started to move to the empty chairs across from the department secretary’s desk, but Evan continued into one of the offices.
“Abby?” His low voice seemed to caress the name, and Layla ground her teeth. She shouldn’t care. If he wanted to flirt while they did research for their project, why should it matter? But it did. And not because she was jealous, because she wasn’t. But he should take their project seriously, which meant no flirting with random females everywhere they went.
“Coop?” A petite blonde stepped forward, her hand outstretched. Evan took her hand, gracing her with one of his signature smiles, displaying even white teeth and a dimple in one cheek. That was the smile he gave all his potential conquests.
Seriously? She’d hoped she was wrong, but evidently not. Arms crossed, she stood behind Evan, fuming while she waited for him to finish flirting.
After what felt like forever, he stepped to the side, and Abby’s eyebrows rose. “Oh! I didn’t realize anyone else was here. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to ignore you.” She offered her hand to Layla. “I’m Abby. Nice to meet you.”
Layla briefly considered treating Abby’s offered hand the same way she’d done Evan’s on Tuesday, but decided that if she was trying to be professional and polite, acting like a bitch wasn’t the way to do that. Besides, it wasn’t Abby’s fault that Evan’s dazzling smile blinded her to everything else. Layla had witnessed it happen to females everywhere. He grinned, and they fawned all over him. Well, except for her. She made sure that she wouldn’t ever be numbered among his fawning females.
That had a catchy ring to it. Maybe she could suggest that he ask his fan club to use it. Evan’s Fawning Females. They could make shirts and start a Facebook group and everything.
So much for not being a bitch.
She forced a smile at Abby, keeping her inner bitch inside at the very least. “Thanks for meeting with us. Evan said you’re a friend?” She put extra emphasis on friend to see if she could figure out the connection here. Obviously they didn’t already know each other.
Confusion passed over Abby’s face, and she glanced to Evan and back to Layla. “Evan? Who’s Evan?”
Evan’s low chuckle sent tingles down Layla’s spine, which just pissed her off more. “I’m Evan. The guys on the team call me Coop, though. I answer to either.”
“Right. Nice to meet you both. S
o you’re working on a project about Isabel Allende?” Abby sat at a little desk, looking up at both of them. Layla settled herself in the chair across from the larger desk that must belong to the professor. Evan propped himself on the corner of the desk, one foot on the floor, one swinging slightly, his arms crossed, his attention all focused on Abby. She’d been the recipient of that focused attention in the library on Tuesday. Hopefully Abby’d be able to keep herself from getting swept away by Evan’s charm.
Evan nodded. “Right. We have to give a presentation on The House of the Spirits, and we also have to include information about the cultural and historical background. I know a little about the coup that put Pinochet in power after Salvador Allende’s death. Was she related to him?”
Abby nodded. “Distantly. Have you read the book yet?”
Evan shook his head. “Not yet.”
Layla snorted. Like he planned to or something. Both Evan and Abby glanced at her, Evan with one eyebrow raised. “Sorry,” muttered Layla. “My, uh, hair tickled my nose.”
One corner of Evan’s mouth twitched at her obvious lie, but he turned back to Abby, dismissing Layla’s reaction and apology like it didn’t matter. Like she didn’t matter. Which had her fuming. He kept his attention all on Abby, discussing the political history of Chile and Pinochet’s dictatorship, and different themes that they might find in the book related to that. Layla didn’t say anything, her contributions to the conversation obviously not needed.
But as they talked, Layla had to admit that maybe Evan wasn’t the moron she’d decided he was. He threw out some good ideas for things they could focus their presentation on depending on what stood out the most in the book. She’d started reading it the night before, but only the first few chapters. Would Evan actually read the book?
She stood when they did, waiting for them to finish their conversation. If he really did read the book maybe he’d have something useful to contribute after all. Which meant they’d need to schedule time to work on the project together.
Abby shook both of their hands again, giving them each a warm smile in turn. “I hope this was helpful. I’m not sure I told you anything you wouldn’t have found on Google, but if you need my help again, just let me know.”
Evan smiled again. “It was helpful. Google’s useful, but sometimes it’s nice to talk to a person.”
Right. Especially if that person were a pretty blonde. But Layla kept that thought to herself, instead saying, “Thank you for your time.”
Gathering her jacket and bag, Layla headed for the hallway, figuring she’d give Evan a few minutes to get Abby’s phone number or whatever. To her surprise, he was right behind her, stopping when she did so she could put on her jacket.
He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning one shoulder against the wall, his eyes scanning over her as she slipped her arms in the sleeves of her coat, cinching the tie at the waist to keep it closed.
“Couldn’t get her number, huh?”
His blue eyes clashed with hers, his brows wrinkled together. “What?”
She gestured back toward the office. “Abby. I figured with the way you were smiling at her and so focused on her that you’d want her number.”
He ran his tongue over his teeth and bit his lower lip while he stared at her for a second. “And how was I smiling at her?” His voice quivered as he spoke.
It was her turn to wrinkle her brows. “You know. The way you smile at all the girls when you’re flirting.”
The laughter he’d been holding back burst forth. He straightened from the wall, one hand covering his mouth, but his eyes never leaving hers. “You think …” He stopped and rubbed his jaw. “Christ, you think I was flirting with her?” He laughed again.
Layla crossed her arms and let out a huff. “I don’t see what’s so funny. I’ve seen you flirt with anyone and everyone before. I just wish you wouldn’t do it while we’re supposed to be working on our project.”
His laughter came out completely unchecked now, and he bent over with the force of it, bracing his hands on his knees.
She watched him with her arms crossed, waiting for him to calm down. When he didn’t, she rolled her eyes and hitched her bag higher on her shoulder. She didn’t have time for this.
“I’ll see you next week. Read the book this weekend. We’ll figure out when to meet next on Tuesday.”
Uncaring if he’d heard her over the sound of his laughter, she started to walk past him, but he caught her arm.
“Layla. Wait, wait. Just …” He let go of her, wiping his eyes with both hands. “Hang on a sec.” Shaking his head, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “You’ve got it all wrong. Abby’s married.”
Layla’s eyes grew wide, and she made a weird choking sound. “What?” Her voice came out an octave higher than normal. She lowered her voice to a loud whisper so she wouldn’t shriek. “You’re hitting on a married woman? What the hell is wrong with you?”
Shaking her head, she turned to storm off once more. Forget this. She knew he was a flirt and player, but a homewrecker? No. She wouldn’t work with him. She’d beg Dr. Rankin to let her work alone. In fact, she’d do that right now.
But Evan caught up with her again, his hand on her shoulder pulling her around. She shrugged it off, but he started talking before she could get away again.
“What? No. No. I wasn’t hitting on her. Or smiling at her any special way. That’s my smile. I smile at my grandma the exact same way.”
Layla narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms once more. “You weren’t hitting on her.”
“Not even a little. She’s married to one of my old teammates. He graduated a couple of years ago. And he’d kick my ass if I ever even thought about hitting on her. Which I wouldn’t. Because she’s married.” He paused, his brows coming together again. “Holy shit. Is that really what you think of me? What’s your problem, anyway? Why do you hate me so much? I’ve never done anything to you.”
She swallowed, dropping her gaze from his stormy eyes, taking in the displeased tightness around his mouth. “No. You’re right. You haven’t. I’m sorry.”
That seemed to mollify him a little, the tight set of his mouth relaxing, his eyebrows almost returning to normal, but his eyes remained stormy. “That’s it?”
Sighing, she dropped her arms to her sides. “Look, let’s just get through this project, okay? We don’t have to be friends to work together.”
“No.” He shook his head. “You’re gonna have to do better than that. You were rude to me on Tuesday when I was nothing but nice, and you just accused me of hitting on my teammate’s wife.”
“Nice? The way you undressed me with your eyes every time you looked at me?”
A guilty look passed over his face, but then his jaw firmed once more. “I was trying to get under your skin. My flirting pissed you off, and I did it more when I realized that since you were being such a b—so mean to me for no reason. It was entertaining.”
She huffed, his last-second change of words not escaping her attention. “Whatever. I know your type. And I don’t have time for your bullshit. We obviously both have time after World Lit, so let’s just plan on meeting on Tuesday after class to discuss what we plan to do. I have to go now.”
Leaving him in the hallway, she went out the nearest door, hoping he wouldn’t try to catch up, since he easily could. He didn’t, though. Thank God. Because she wasn’t disappointed that he didn’t want to spend more time with her either. Nope. Not at all.
The fact that he flirted with her out of spite, and obviously flirted with literally everyone as his default, meant that she needed to stay as far away from him as possible. She’d been there and done that and learned her lesson the hard way. She didn’t need to end up as the exotic notch on anyone’s bedpost again.
Chapter Six
Pain lanced through Layla’s ankle. She’d tripped on a rock poking through the dirt on the trail. Even though she’d managed not to fall on her face, her other foot had come down in a
patch of slippery mud, and her ankle had twisted to the side when her full weight had landed on that foot. Something had popped, and now it hurt like hell.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
This was what happened when she paid more attention to the bright green tips on the trees, evidence of new growth starting, than where she stepped on the trail. But those tiny harbingers of spring on its way were too pretty and delicate to resist. At least she was walking on the inside of the trail, so she hadn’t tripped and taken a header down the steep drop off the other side.
Rotating her foot at the end of her outstretched leg, she tried to assess how bad the damage might be. Then she settled her weight gently back on both feet. And hissed at the new shot of pain racing from the outside of her ankle up her calf. Walking on this was going to hurt like a bitch, and she was at least a mile from the parking lot.
Alone.
There’d been two other cars there when she’d arrived, obviously taking advantage of the rare sunny weekend in February like she was, but she hadn’t seen anyone on the trail. She had no choice but to grit her teeth and bear the pain through the trek back to her car.
She made it around the next bend in the trail before tears started prickling behind her eyes with each step on her injured foot. A tree stump and downed tree ran along the trail there. Hobbling over to it, she sat and rested, putting her hurt leg up on the tree next to her, hoping that elevating it for a bit would lessen the throbbing, stabbing pain that pulsed with her heartbeat.
After a few minutes the stabbing had subsided, leaving the dull throb behind. She thought briefly about trying to pack some of the dirty snow around her ankle that still remained under the shade of the evergreens, but she didn’t have any way to keep it in place. At this rate, she’d be lucky to get back to the car before dark. She’d gotten here a little after two and dawdled along the trail for almost an hour before she’d hurt herself, and even though she still had over an hour before the sun went down, stopping every fifty feet for ten minutes meant it would take a long time to finish the loop that would bring her back to the parking lot.
False Assumptions (Players of Marycliff University Book 6) Page 3