by Liz Lincoln
The worst would be leaving Reina. They’d been freshman roommates at the University of Wisconsin and fast friends. Maybe they’d get lucky and find postdoctoral work in the same city, but it was unlikely.
But she wasn’t going to dwell on that tonight. She still had a few months before anything changed.
“How’s it going having Marcus James in your class?” Eric asked as they started the next hand. “Do any of the girls pay attention with him around?”
Reina snorted a laugh, which the guys didn’t react to. They didn’t realize Reina was snorting not about Bree’s students but about Bree. She knew how much Bree struggled having Marcus in class.
“She’s been having lunch with him every Friday after lab.” Reina tossed her chip into the center. “It’s their thing.”
After four Fridays in a row, was it officially a thing for them? Bree couldn’t call it a standing date; date had too many implications. But yeah, it was probably a thing. Earlier today, he hadn’t even asked if she wanted to get lunch. They’d just started walking together, found themselves outside George Webb, a local diner chain, and gone in.
“Wait, hold up.” Kevin held up one hand while he tossed in his chips with the other. “You have a regular lunch date with an NFL player?”
“She does,” Reina said, while Bree said, “It’s not a date.”
Reina snort-laughed again. “Back me up, babe. Lunch every Friday for a month is a date.”
Tomás nodded. “That’s a date.”
Had Bree just been thinking how much she adored her friends? Because right now, she kind of hated them. “OK, but it’s not like a date date. Like you two.” She waved her hand between Reina and Tomás.
“Right, because he’s your student,” Kevin said with a note of teasing.
“And you’d never date a student. Even though you’ve had a crush on him as long as I’ve known you,” Tomás added.
Bree glared at them each in turn, making her expression harsher than she felt. “You can both shut your mouths.”
Everyone laughed, and though the teasing made her slightly uncomfortable, because there was far too much truth in it, she didn’t mind. They all teased each other. It was the backbone of poker night.
“Blinds are in. Do your job,” Bree said to Tomás.
They chatted and joked through a few more hands and the dealer job moved its way around the table to Bree.
She sat back in her chair and munched a Dorito while everyone looked at their cards and Eric and Tomás made their blind bets.
“You guys as glad as I am that Bryant’s gone for two weeks?” Tomás said to Bree and Kevin.
Kevin shrugged. “I don’t have a problem with him.”
Now it was Bree’s turn to snort. “Of course not. You’re a guy. You’re a man.” She said the word man in a low, gruff, masculine tone. “Bryant likes men.”
“You saying Tomás isn’t a man?”
“Nope. Bryant treats both of you just fine. I guess Tomás is just a more loyal friend.” She stuck her tongue out at Kevin.
Tomás sat up straighter in his chair and pretended to fluff his shaggy dark hair.
“I…I’m…but…,” Kevin sputtered. He looked to Reina with a lost expression.
Shaking her head, Reina patted his shoulder. “Don’t. A good friend would hate Bryant on principle. Like Tomás, Eric, and I do.”
Eric looked up from studying his hand. He still hadn’t placed his bet. “I what?”
“You hate Dr. Bryant because he’s a dick to Bree,” Reina said.
“I do?”
“You do.” Reina smiled sweetly. “Because you’re a good friend.”
“I am.” He picked up three chips and tossed them into the center.
“I’m a good friend,” Kevin protested as he put in his own bet.
“You are, honey.” Reina’s tone said she was clearly placating him. “Just not as good a friend as Tomás, Eric, or me.”
Kevin cast a desperate look in Bree’s direction. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…I knew he was a little sexist, but I didn’t realize he was that bad.”
Bree smiled sarcastically. “Tuesday he told me inheriting me from Anna was the worst thing to happen in his career. He doesn’t care if I finish or not because women don’t belong in physics. He doesn’t have time to be bothered with my whims. As if a PhD is a fucking flight of fancy.” Bree’s entire body flashed cold, like some comic book ice villain had jabbed her in the chest with her freeze-ray. Inside her, air and blood stood frozen as well. She forced herself to breathe and stay grounded in the moment. Slowly, warmth returned.
“Oh. Wow. Fuck him.” Kevin’s eyes flashed indignantly.
Reina patted his shoulder like he was a good puppy.
“You gonna give him a dog biscuit for being a good boy?” Tomás asked. Apparently Bree wasn’t the only one who’d gotten dog imagery.
Reina flipped him the middle finger. “You gonna…I don’t know because I don’t have a good comeback.”
They all laughed, then picked up the game again. Bree’s heart still raced, thinking about what Bryant said. Part of her worried he’d try to stop her defense, where she would present her research to her dissertation committee and anyone else who wanted to come. Passing her defense meant passing her dissertation. It meant getting her PhD. And lately she had the lurking feeling that Bryant might actually try to stall or stop her defense.
Most of the time she could convince herself it was ridiculous paranoia. But that small part of her brain that looked for worst-case scenarios had her worrying too much. It was counterproductive, but the joy of anxiety was she couldn’t turn it off. She could only try to ignore it the best she could.
From her back pocket, Bree’s phone chimed with a text message. Everyone was considering their cards and bets, so she pulled out the phone and checked the message.
Marcus: Can you call when you have a minute, even if it’s tomorrow? Got a homework question.
Her heart fluttered and her stomach felt gooey. Marcus wanted her to call him on a Friday night.
Marcus James was home doing physics homework on a Friday night? Why wasn’t he out with his friends? Or on a date with one of the gazillion women in Milwaukee who would gladly date him?
Did she call him now? Give away that she also had a meager social life? Or did she let him think she was on a hot date or out partying with her awesome friends instead of home playing poker like a dork and call tomorrow?
Oh, who was she kidding? She was getting a PhD in physics. She was a hard-core nerd and he knew it. She’d never been a bar-hopping or clubbing kind of girl, and Marcus probably knew that too.
“Judging by how much thought you’re putting into that text message, it must be your new mystery boyfriend,” Reina said. “I fold.” She tossed her cards onto the table with a flourish that made her ponytail swing.
“You have a mystery boyfriend? I thought you were pining for that football player,” Kevin said.
Reina of course meant Marcus when she said mystery boyfriend. The jerk.
“I don’t have any boyfriend, mystery or otherwise. It’s just a student asking if I can call about a homework question.”
“Physics homework on a Friday night? Geez, even we aren’t that big of dorks.” Eric looked at Kevin. “You ready to battle?” He held up his hands as if wielding a sword and made lightsaber noises.
“And we’re pretty big dorks,” Reina said dryly.
Kevin lifted his imaginary lightsaber. He and Eric took a few swings at each other, then turned back to their cards.
To hell with it. If Bree didn’t call Marcus now, she’d spend half her time wishing she had. She pushed back from the table. “I’m gonna call this student. Play without me for a few minutes.”
Reina caught Bree’s eye and gave her a knowing look.
Yeah, she was pathetic. But she couldn’t help it if the hottest guy she’d ever met was texting her on a Friday night. It was hopeless to resist.
Chapt
er 5
Marcus set his pencil down and leaned back in his chair. He really was trying to concentrate on conservation of energy, but it was damn hard with Bree so close to him. Even after talking on Friday night, he still struggled with the concept. As he’d told her, science was really not his thing. He was a smart guy. He’d aced his marketing, statistics, and other business classes. Social science was easy too. He understood people. There was a reason physics and geology were the last two classes he needed for his degree.
So they’d spent the past hour at the worktable in the suite of offices Bree shared with other graduate students. He had more of his homework done and was finally starting to understand the law of conservation of energy. Not anywhere near well enough to want to take another physics class, but better than he had that morning. Enough that he could probably squeak through an exam.
“Does that make more sense now?” Bree asked, her pretty brown eyes serious.
He couldn’t help putting a touch of flirtation into his smile. It just happened when he was attracted to a woman. And he was very attracted to his physics teacher.
“More sense? Yes. Sense? Not so much.”
She returned his smile. “I’ll take that.”
He would too. He’d leave hard-core science to Bree, his parents, and the younger of his two older sisters, Alaya. He and his oldest sister, Lily, were more social and business minded. Lil was an attorney and had recently been elected mayor of her suburb of Minneapolis. Like their parents, Alaya was a doctor, doing a fellowship in surgical oncology.
A professional athlete, he was the black sheep of his successful family. Even though he outearned them all and had collected as many honors and awards as his sisters, earning his living with his body and not his mind wasn’t good enough for his academic-minded parents.
“Not everyone has to get an A, right?” Bree said.
Marcus’ smile faltered and he looked away, hoping she wouldn’t notice. “Nope. Just need a C for it to transfer and count for my degree.” He slapped his textbook shut with more force than necessary.
Bree jumped in her chair at the sound.
“Sorry.” He needed to get his mind off his parents. They were a guaranteed mood killer lately. Time to change the subject.
“What are you doing on Friday night?” The words popped out of his mouth before they’d fully formed in his head. But as soon as he said them, he could picture pressing close to her on the crowded dance floor at Bubble, the club he was part owner of. She was tall enough that her curves would fit nicely against him.
The school probably didn’t have a rule against dancing with students. Rules weren’t usually that specific. He’d take advantage of all the loopholes if it meant he could dance with Bree.
Bree’s cheeks turned an adorable pink, nearly matching the streak in her bangs that had appeared last week. It complemented the turquoise streaks scattered through the rest of her dark hair. He’d liked the Dragons colors she sported a month ago, but these worked too.
“I…that’s really nice. But I…you’re my…um, you’re my student,” she stammered.
Marcus hated making her feel awkward. “No, I wasn’t asking you out.” He wanted to; their lunches weren’t enough. But he knew she’d turn him down. “I thought maybe you’d get a kick out of meeting up at Bubble.”
“Bubble? You mean that club downtown?” She looked confused.
OK, he could see she probably wasn’t a big clubbing girl. But he still couldn’t shake the urge to have her in his place. They were always on her turf; he wanted time with her on his. And he refused to look more closely at what that said other than him simply wanting to spend more time with a woman who energized his mind and kicked his libido into overdrive.
“Yeah. I’m part owner. A lot of Fridays, the guys and I hang out there. Thought maybe I could put you on our VIP list, you could hang with us in the lounge.” It was so corny, so over-the-top, but he couldn’t help it. He winked.
She blushed deeper.
“Who’s your favorite player? I’ll see if I can lure him out.”
Now she was the same color as her red University of Wisconsin T-shirt. “Oh, well, I, uh…” Her gaze dropped to her hands and she picked at some chipped nail polish.
Then it dawned on him. After a month of spending time with her, something finally clicked into place. “Oh.” He chuckled, now as awkward as she was. In all this time, how had he not realized it before?
Sure, he met plenty of women who made their interest in him known. Who flat-out told him that they had the hots for him because he was a celebrity. He’d even dated some of them, but it was an odd way to start a relationship.
If Bree had had a crush from afar on him before they even met that could make things decidedly more uncomfortable between them. Shit.
Except.
Except he had a crush on her too. And things weren’t awkward.
For all he knew, meeting him in person had killed any romantic fantasies she had about him. Maybe he wasn’t her type. She probably liked guys with advanced degrees like she was getting. Marcus didn’t even have his bachelor’s degree, and he needed a tutor to get through her class.
“My dad played tight end in high school and college. Two of my brothers played it too. So I’m kind of genetically predisposed to like tight ends.” She gave him an uncomfortable smile and bit her bottom lip.
Damn, she had nice lips. Today they were a rosier shade than most days, maybe faded lipstick that had matched her shirt. But they were always lush and pink, and he could imagine how good it would feel to brush his own against them.
“I’ll see if I can get Vince Gibbons to come,” Marcus said, unable to stop another wink to let her know he understood that Gibbons wasn’t the tight end she meant.
She grinned. “What about Matt Baxter? If I could get an autograph or a picture with the Dragons’ quarterback, my brothers would die of jealousy. I could hold it over them for the rest of my life.” Her smile faded. “Oh, wait, that’s probably not cool, is it? To go all fangirl on them when they’re out.”
His affection for her grew. Many fans didn’t consider that sometimes he and his friends just wanted to hang out like normal guys. Not that he didn’t love Dragons’ fans. They were an awesome fan base, loyal, and for the most part down-to-earth people. He could go around town and not get mobbed all the time like some of his college friends who had gone to other pro teams. But he always seemed to run into that one overenthusiastic fan at the moments when he had the least patience. Murphy’s Law.
“Matt and Celia come out a lot. I’m sure he’d be happy to take a picture.” Marcus tossed in Matt’s fiancée just in case she had ideas about hooking up with his friend. “Trask is another part owner, so he’s there a lot. I’ll make sure there’s a group for you this weekend, if you can come.” Jeremy Trask, the Dragons’ ultraefficient kicker, was league royalty. He had half a dozen family members who’d played pro football too, starting with his grandpa. Their family was synonymous with football.
She frowned like she was thinking. “I can skip my regular poker game Friday night, but if it’s OK, I’d like for Reina to come with me.”
Marcus bit back the question that immediately jumped to his mind, expressing surprise that Reina would want to go to a dance club in a wheelchair. But that was probably an asshole assumption. Bree had told him that she’d been friends with Reina for several years; if she wanted Reina to come, it was undoubtedly because she knew Reina would want to. Having been on the receiving end of unfair assumptions based on appearance plenty of times himself, he was a little ashamed he’d even had the thought.
“Absolutely. We’ll always welcome more ladies.” Maybe she wouldn’t think he was asking her largely because he wanted to spend time with her outside the physics building. Their lunches hardly counted. They were an extension of class. They weren’t enough.
“Can we do next week? The guys we play poker with are going to a conference, so no game that week. And this week is, w
ell, it’s hard to explain, but we’re doing some sort of tournament-style showdown thing Eric devised.”
Who was Eric? The flash of jealousy in Marcus’ gut didn’t feel good, but that didn’t stop him from immediately disliking Eric.
Which made him a dumbass.
“Next week is perfect.”
*
—
“Man, how do they not see that hit on Singleton?” Dragons quarterback Matt Baxter scooted to the edge of the couch and made a rude gesture at the TV. “That was roughing the passer! These refs are shit!”
Marcus caught Jaron Edmonds’ gaze and stifled a laugh as Jaron rolled his eyes. The stocky black man, the Dragons’ star running back, looked like he was going to bust something from the effort.
Watching a game with Matt was a constant stream of criticism of the officiating. While every player took occasional issue with bad or missed calls, Matt raised it to another level. In every game. Anytime a quarterback so much as scuffed his cleats, Matt took it personally.
Fortunately, the giant chip he had on his shoulder about how the refs treated quarterbacks somehow translated to him being one of the best QBs in the league. Marcus didn’t quite understand that psychology—maybe Matt was afraid to do anything but make awesome plays since he didn’t think the refs could protect him?—but it worked. Their leader was only twenty-six and already a shoo-in for the Hall of Fame. His name got mentioned in conversations alongside other greats like Favre, Brady, Marino, and Rodgers.
“Language, man,” Jaron reminded their friend as two-year-old JJ—Jaron Junior—made fire engine sounds from the corner of the giant living room. “He’s like a sponge.”
“Sorry.” Matt took a swig of his beer. “You know how I get.”
That had Marcus and Jaron cracking up. Everyone on the team knew how Matt got; hell, everyone in the league knew the All-American aw-shucks white boy from Massachusetts loved to go off about the referees. Fortunately, he managed to keep it under control when he was on the field. That was the one place the guys in black and white didn’t ruffle him.