Of Boys And Men: An Enemies to Lovers, New Adult College Romance (Ridge Rogues Book 1)

by Renee Harless

  “Hi, I’m Keeley and this is my roommate, Sarah. We just transferred here,” the girl next to me said as she pulled out her laptop from her bag.

  “Same! It’s like an entirely different world here at Wellington,” I replied, and simultaneously the three of us peered around the room, taking it all in. “I’m Jolee, by the way.”

  “Oh, I love your name,” Sarah claimed as she peered around Keeley.

  The three of us may be outcasts, but we could be outcasts together. Of course, I’d hate if they were automatically placed in that category just for sitting with me and acknowledging my presence. But for some reason, both girls didn’t seem like they would care.

  The professor chose that moment to walk in and settle his bag on the large desk at the front of the room. Glancing at the clock on my laptop, I realized that we only had three minutes before the class would begin. Willow had taken this class last semester. She told me the professor was a stickler for punctuality and he would lock the door the second class was to start.

  With one minute to spare, the students turned in unison as the door to the room opened. Women squealed with delight at the entrance, but I found myself suppressing a groan. It was the boy from the apartment. Ford, Willow had informed me was his name. Turning my gaze away from him, I pecked at my laptop to start the dictation program. I’d hoped that he’d ignore me and find a seat with the minions he had calling for him across the way.

  “You’re in my seat,” he growled, his breath tickling my ear as he leaned into my space. I felt his shadow looming over me, instantly cooling my skin and sending a shiver down my spine. Of course, I couldn’t be so lucky to have him overlook me.

  Keeley squeaked in her seat beside me, and though I knew the students were whispering about Ford and me, I couldn’t make out any noises beyond the heavy breathing coming from the man bent over the open seat.

  Turning my gaze up to him, I made sure to harden my expression even though I wanted to take my time memorizing his face. He really was a beautiful man, more than I had first thought.

  “This isn’t your seat.”

  He looked taken aback by my comment, narrowing his eyes at the thought that I doubted what he said. And confused that I would question him.

  “I always sit in this seat during my classes,” he tried to explain, but to my ear, he sounded like a petulant child whining about a toy he couldn’t have.

  “Well, you’re going to have to find a new one because I’m not moving.” His jaw ticked as he stood up, and I knew that I shouldn’t find the move sexy, but I did. And the way he narrowed his eyes at me, I almost wanted to see how many more buttons of his I could push.

  “Take a seat, Mr. O’Brien,” the professor called out as he locked the entrance door.

  Refusing to acknowledge him further, and secretly hoping he’d slink away to one of the women calling for him, I kept my attention to the front of the classroom. My skin grew hot under everyone’s watchful eye and I felt my cheeks flame, the blush of my pale skin matching that of my dress. I was about to slump farther down in my seat until I felt a kick at the back of my chair. Turning swiftly, I locked gazes with Ford as he settled into the seat directly behind me.

  “You’re a jerk,” I seethed, my hand clenching the back of my seat until the knuckles turned white. He only fostered more annoyance as he casually draped his arm across the chair beside him and settled one of his boot-clad feet on his ripped black denim. All while a casual smirk rested on his full lips.

  It was as I began to turn back around that I noticed how quiet the room had grown and that everyone, including the professor, had their attention on me.

  “Do you have something to say, Ms. . .?” the professor asked.

  “Ward,” I added. “Jolee Ward. And no, sir.”

  “Great, let’s get started,” he said sarcastically as he turned toward the screen displaying the syllabus.

  As the professor’s back was turned, I glanced back at Ford once more, a notebook and pen casually placed on the small desk attached to Ford’s chair. He winked in my direction and I promised myself that it was the last time I’d give him my attention.

  And it took everything during the class to keep that promise, especially when the professor stated that we had to remain in these seats the rest of the year. Keeley, Sarah, and I exchanged subtle smiles at the proclamation, only to have Ford “accidentally” knock the back of my chair again.

  Jerk.

  By the end of the hour and a half discussion, I was exhausted. Not because of boredom or the introduction to the economics course, but because I had been on pins and needles the entire time. I kept waiting for Ford to do something irritating, but it never came, not even another kick against my chair. He knew what he was doing, that stupid game he had going on, and I had let him see how it affected me. Well, I knew it wasn’t going to happen again.

  I waved goodbye to Keeley and Sarah after exchanging numbers in each other’s phones so that we could get together for a study group. I took my time packing up my laptop, knowing that my next class was in an hour. Behind me, I could hear the kitten-like purrs from some of the students lingering around Ford, each of them wanting his attention. I could almost ignore it – almost - until one of the eager vixens slid in front of Ford’s seat, knocking the back of my head with her leather bag.

  I stood with a huff, rolling my eyes so far in the back of my head that I could almost hear my mother shouting from Alaska that my eyes would stay that way. Carefully I strolled to the door, not wanting to trip over my own feet and give them something else to gawk and stare at — no reason to add more ammunition to their arsenal. I didn’t dare look back as I exited even though I could feel his stare on me with each step. It made me feel. . .uncomfortable. As if he could see a part of me that I didn’t want anyone to witness. Each passing second peeled away more layers that I’d kept tightly wrapped beneath my skin.

  Finally, I was free and I briskly walked toward the stairwell that would take me to the small coffee shop on the first floor. I needed caffeine and I needed it now.

  The line was long, but that was fine with me. All I wanted was to slip in the masses and disappear.

  Knowing that I had some time to kill, I pulled out my phone and flipped through some social media pages. Nothing overly exciting, though I did get lost in a few animal videos, barely noticing when the line ahead of me moved.

  “You ran out of class pretty fast.”

  I screamed as his breath feathered across my cheek, dropping my phone in the process.

  “Oh, fudgesicles,” I murmured as I bent down to grab my phone, thankful to find that the screen hadn’t cracked.

  “Fudgesicles?” Ford mimicked as I stood up and took a step to follow the moving line. He did the same with me.

  Taking a deep breath, I worked to recenter myself as I turned to face him. Taking in his blue eyes and the light scruff on his chiseled chin, I couldn’t help but notice how attractive he was - again.

  “What, are you stalking me now?” I bit out, my attitude toward him seething from my words.

  “Don’t flatter yourself, princess.”

  Princess? I was no darn princess.

  “Don’t call me that,” I fumed, narrowing my eyes at him as I took another step in line. I was next and I couldn’t wait to get out of here. “And you’re the one standing next to me in line. Don’t want any of your lady friends to get the wrong idea.”

  “Maybe I was already behind you in line.”

  Darn, maybe he was right. I had been so busy on my phone, I hadn’t noticed who had joined the line behind me.

  “But,” he began as he leaned closer to my ear, “I really wanted to see if you always kept that stick up your ass or just wore it to class.”

  My jaw unclenched as he pulled away. I had never been spoken to that way. Had no idea how to react. So when the barista asked me for my order, I stood there slack-jawed. Only Ford’s chuckle brought me back to the moment.

  In a daze, I told the barista, �
�I’ll have a medium chai tea latte, please.”

  Piping in, his body never turning away from mine, Ford added, “I’ll have a small black coffee.”

  At his arrogance, I rolled my eyes while reaching into my wallet for the cash I had on hand, only to find Ford handing the barista a card.

  “I’ve got them.”

  “Don’t be a gentleman on my account.”

  As the barista handed the card back to Ford and we took two steps to the right to wait for our order, Ford said, “You said so yourself that I was no gentleman.”

  I should have taken a moment to apologize and thank him for my coffee, but I couldn’t find it in me. He wasn’t even particularly nice while I stood there silently.

  “If you grind your teeth any more, you’re not going to have anything left to chew with.”

  “What is your deal?” I pointed out, my arms automatically crossed against my chest like a shield for more of his heinous words.

  “I was simply pointing out better dental habits.”

  “No, you’re just egging me on.”

  “Maybe,” he responded as he shrugged his shoulders and leaned his tall, muscled frame against the glass case containing a few baked goods. “Actually, I do have one more question.”

  The rolling of my eyes was completely involuntary. “What’s that?”

  “What do you wear underneath that dress, princess? Are you all prim and proper like you want everyone to believe, or is there a little sex kitten tucked away wearing leather and lace?”

  I was affronted. Never in my life had I been spoken to in such a manner and I had been through hell before, but it was never disguised as a gorgeous man in black jeans and a white shirt pulled taut across his chest.

  Thankfully the barista placed our orders on the counter at that moment.

  Before he could react, I reached for both cups while saying, “Don’t worry. You’ll never get the pleasure of knowing what I wear beneath my clothes or if I wear anything at all.”

  I turned to him, smirking and cheering at myself inside as he stood with his lips parted and eyes heated from my words. I knew it would get a reaction out of him, too bad for him it was the truth.

  He had barely snapped out of his stupor when he noticed I had moved toward the trash can with his drink in hand.

  “Jolee. . .” he warned as my hand hovered over the canister.

  “Oops.” The paper cup and liquid slipped from my grip and landed with barely a whisper in the trash bag.

  “Have a good day, Ford,” I told him as I turned around to exit the open area café.

  “Bitch,” he growled, and the people surrounding us gasped. I wasn’t sure if they were surprised at his outburst, the word used, or that someone had spoken to me. Either way, I gave the only response I could. Flicking my middle finger up in the air, I held it to my side proudly while I took a sip of my drink and continued toward my next class.

  Chapter Four – Ford

  I stood frozen in place as I stared at Jolee’s retreating back, her middle finger flying high in the air. A laugh bubbled out of my chest and then a few more followed suit.

  When was the last time that I had laughed?

  I couldn’t remember. Probably at something one of my brothers did.

  That girl knew how to get on my every last nerve without even trying, which was a remarkable feat.

  The crowd in the café wasn’t sure how to react. I wasn’t one to show any emotion. Hell, most of these people had probably never heard a word uttered from me before. Yet, they all knew me. Or, thought that they did. My brothers and I knew that the student body placed us on a pedestal. Not because our mother was a professor here, but because of how we looked. But, hey, I wasn’t complaining. Especially when the barista silently handed me another black coffee and an apology.

  A few girls eyed me, hoping that I’d shoot them a wink or one of my famous smirks, but they’d get neither, I had other things on my mind. And this time, not even the blonde-haired witch was going to distract me.

  Heading out of the building, I made my way off campus and toward the small strip of businesses. My next class wasn’t until the afternoon, which left me plenty of time to take the next step of my plan.

  The small trinket shop on the corner came into view and I slipped inside. Other college students milled about, but there was one person in mind that I was looking for. Brent Daughtry was a private investigator that used to work with Adam. Link had kept in touch with our adoptive father’s police friends. Brent had worked on the force with Adam but had recently branched out on his own.

  I needed information and he was the only one I trusted to keep his trap shut. Not even my brothers knew what I had been up to.

  “Brent,” I greeted as I saw the gray-haired man standing by a shot glass display.

  In a surprising gesture, he turned around and greeted me with an embrace. He was the same age Adam would have been and I tried hard not to let the hug bring back any memories. My emotions needed to stay on lockdown.

  “Hey, kid. Look at you. My goodness, you’ve grown up. I bet the ladies love you,” he said with his strong Bostonian accent. “How you doin’?”

  “Hanging in there. It’s good to see you, too.”

  A beat of silence passed between us as he looked me up and down.

  “I got some of what you asked for. But, kid, are you sure you want to get tied up in this?”

  “I need to know the truth and so do a lot of other people. If you can’t stand with me, I understand.”

  “No, no, I’m with you. One hundred percent. But maybe you should talk to Tracy about this.”

  “I know what I’m doing,” I pointed out, the short nails on my fingers digging into my palms as I clenched my hands into fists, but I felt no pain. I hadn’t felt anything but fury for so long that I wouldn’t recognize it even if I bled from the wounds.

  Brent nodded as he reached behind him, pulling a folded manila envelope from his back pocket.

  “There is a lot of twisted shit in there and I barely broke the surface. He has his fingers into every agency in the state, so he knows how to cover his tracks.”

  “How were you able to find it?” I asked as I took the envelope from him.

  “I’m better at my job than they are. Look, read it over. Call me and we can figure out the next path. I agree with you that you need to know the truth, but just consider how those truths will affect others.”

  I ignored his comment as I pinned him with my gaze.

  “So, what can you tell me so far?”

  “There is rumbling in the media that your father’s senate seat may not be so steady for the next election. If this information became public, he’d be ruined.”

  These were things I already knew. It was why I had called him to begin investigating.

  “What about my mother?”

  “I’m still waiting on a contact to get back with me, but I have a lead and it’s looking promising.”

  The store clerk looked over at us at that moment and I knew that we were drawing unwanted attention. We needed to wrap this up and fast.

  “Thanks for this,” I told him, smacking the manila envelope against my hand. “Call me anytime.”

  Brent nodded once, the corners of his eyes tilted downward. I could tell that he was disappointed at the fact I wanted to continue moving forward. But I needed answers.

  And most of all, my mother needed justice.

  Rutherford Hastings was going down and he wasn’t going to know what hit him until it was too late.

  I spent my last two classes in a daze. The envelope stuffed firmly in my bag beckoned me to open it and it took every ounce of willpower to keep from reaching for the papers while the professor droned on about class expectations.

  Beneath my palm, I twisted the knob to the apartment I shared with Link and Archer; Chance and Rylan shared their own. The aromatic smell of marinara, oregano, and basil filled the air and I closed my eyes to inhale the sweet scent. Archer must be cooking tonight.
He always favored the Italian dishes.

  “Spaghetti will be ready in ten. You get dish duty tonight.”

  “Sounds good,” I mumbled as I toed my shoes off at the door (one of Link’s rules) and made my way to my bedroom.

  The door slammed on its own, as if it understood my urgency to rip through the envelope. But as I pulled it from my bag and placed it on the bed, a heaviness settled on me.

  Was this what I should be doing? Did I really want to dig up dirt on my birth father? Get my revenge?

  Of course, I fucking did. That man had destroyed too many lives in the name of selfishness. He was a repulsive human being and the world needed to know. It made me thankful that I took after my mother’s side of the family, but every time I glanced in the mirror, I was reminded of who helped give me life. Those same steely blue eyes stared back at me as a picture of my father on the cover of TIME Magazine rested on my desk. Just looking at the picture surged a wave of hatred through me.

  Slumping down on the edge of my bed, I flipped the envelope open and, with shaking hands, pulled out the contents. Beneath a metal paperclip were pictures, letters, transcripts, and news articles related to my father.

  Woman upon woman graced the images with my birth father. None of which were my mother or his wife of thirty years. Some, they were merely kissing. Others were more explicit.

  My eyes skimmed through the letters, many just day to day correspondences until familiar handwriting lined the pages. It was a letter from my mother. I couldn’t bring myself to read it, feeling too much like an invasion of her privacy. But the way her perfect cursive flowed like the petals of a flower, I knew that it was a love letter. A love letter to the man that would break her heart with his lies and false promises.

  “Dinner’s ready!” Archer called out from the other side of my door.

  Just as I was about to stuff the papers back into the envelope, a document with official letterhead caught my attention. The date was the day after my mother’s letter was sent. Most of the official documents were written in print by who I assumed was his secretary, but this one was written in manly scribble. Barely legible, but one sentence was scrawled in angry, harsh lettering.