She glanced up and met his gaze. A thrill coursed through her, chased by irritation. Why did she even care what he thought? He’d made his opinion perfectly clear when he destroyed her book sales with a flaming review. It was a little late for flattery.
“When I heard the class was being considered, I didn’t know they had already chosen an instructor, and I started some research.” Shelby said. She didn’t care if that was picking a fight. It wasn’t fair that he got the class just because he was famous.
He held the little diary in both hands, turning it over gently, and cleared his throat.
“I hope you mother is feeling better?”
Shelby gritted her teeth. Of course he didn’t want to talk about the way he could just walk in and get the choice classes. He wanted to know how her crazy mother was doing.
“She’s fine. Just a headache.”
He started to speak, then seemed to reconsider. “I noticed you talking to David Whitcomb.”
Shelby looked him in the eye, which meant craning her neck, since he was close enough to make his six foot-plus seem even taller. “Yes, we were introduced.”
“And what did you think?” His tone was light but he hadn’t dropped his gaze.
She tried her best to ignore the fizzing in her blood and focus on his words. Some part of her brain that kept her safe and sane was yelling to step back, to drop her gaze. But she couldn’t. “About what?”
“Did you feel you had a lot in common?” His voice was still casual but there was tiniest flicker in his gaze, as it dropped to her lips as he spoke.
She almost laughed. “Not really, no. Personally or professionally or otherwise. If you really need to know.”
He didn’t smile but dropped his eyes to the leather diary. “I don’t mean to be rude. But he has a reputation-
Letting out a sigh, Shelby interrupted. “I know, he’s a great catch. Thank you for your concern. My mother seems to think I’m incapable of finding myself a husband. But the last place I’d find one is at one of those parties.”
He titled his head. “And exactly where is the best place to find oneself a husband?” His deep voice was slow, teasing.
Shelby felt the heat start to rise in her cheeks. That tone, those eyes. “Oh, probably at church. That’s where my parents met.”
He blinked and then nodded. “Always a safe bet.”
She motioned toward the diary. “Is there anything else I can help with?”
“No, this is fine. I’ll be right back.” He turned and disappeared through the doorway.
Shelby stared into the space he left behind. Why was everyone so concerned about her finding a man? Did she have a sign over her head that read, ‘Spinster In Training’? She was happy alone... or single, she should say, because she didn’t feel alone. Or lonely. Until maybe just recently, right around the beginning of the term, when he showed up.
She shook her head. There was no reason for her to feel that way. And he was still an ogre. An apology only goes so far. And the way her heart thumped when he looked in her eyes made her want to slap herself.
The crack about her parents meeting at church was true. But they weren’t exactly the happiest couple, either. There was no mistaking his reaction when she mentioned the ‘c’ word. He wasn’t someone who thought you should find your future spouse at church, that was for sure.
Shelby rested her forehead on her palms and tried not to think of anything. Not her class of sleepy students, not the construction slated for tomorrow, not the students chasing castles, not Katie’s lack of progress. Especially not Ransom, or the emotions that flickered over his face.
“All right?”
Shelby jumped. For a man as powerfully built as he was, he moved very quietly. Ransom stood in front of her, holding his copies.
“Oh, fine. It’s just been a long day so far, and it’s not even over yet. Office hours weren’t particularly productive.” She tried to project light-hearted ease, as if the last few minutes had never happened.
“Some days I want to bolt the door.” He said it matter-of -factly, handing back her diary and pages, his fingers brushing hers.
Shelby laughed. “I love my students, I really do, but some days... Yeah, bolting the door sounds like a good plan. I was trying to keep my spirits up with the promise of a treat but it wasn’t working.”
“Treat? Like chocolate?”
“A mocha, actually. Don’t tell Jolee, she thinks I don’t drink much coffee anymore. There’s a great little place, maybe you’ve seen it, the Daily Grind. Excellent coffee.”
“I haven’t been in there yet. Thank you for your help.” He paused, looked down at the sheets in his hand. “Ron DiGuardi was right. He said you would help me out if you could. I wasn’t so sure, but he knows you pretty well.” With that he turned and left.
Shelby sat still, emotions battering against each other. Ron was the best professor she knew, and a great human being. They’d been friends since her first day in the department, when she’d walked into the office and heard him giving Jolee a mini lecture on medieval mendicants. He and his wife Tansy had welcomed Shelby into their family. She was humbled at Ron’s faith in her. He made her want to be a better person, to live up to his expectations.
After a while she went to close the door, sorting through another tall stack of documents she’d copied from the little library in Noxubee County. There were lots of letters, some newspaper articles, and a few sheets of government deeds.
She managed twenty minutes before there was another knock, this time not so hesitant.
“Come in!” And please don’t stay long, she wanted to add.
“A thank you.” Ransom handed her a Daily Grind cup that issued tiny wisps of steam and the bitter sweet smell of roasted beans filled her office.
“You didn’t have to...,” her voice faltered.
“I wasn’t sure if you liked it hot or iced, so I asked the barista. I mentioned your name, that you went there all the time. She made your usual: caramel mocha, single shot, with whipped cream and a little straw.” He wore an expression not unlike a triumphant warrior returning home. His dark hair was ruffled by the wind but he didn’t make any effort to smooth it down. The total affect was breathtaking.
Shelby choked back a laugh. She knew Zoe worked this afternoon. The bubbly, flirtatious blond would have been on high alert when she saw Ransom step through the door. The campus rumor mill was probably in hitting high gear at that very moment.
“I’ll let you get back to work.”
She raised a hand in a mute farewell as he closed the door behind him. Shelby took a sip and scalded her tongue, but didn’t really notice.
Ransom couldn’t help the self-satisfied smile that crossed his face as he went down the front steps. His long, quick strides carried him across the quad in seconds.
He’d been right to make friends. Plan B was doomed from the start. It was too small a department to think they would never run into each other. He couldn’t ignore her forever, when she was around every corner. Plan C was working out perfectly and would continue to do so, as long as he was careful. A few controlled encounters, maybe an afternoon coffee date or two and they’d be just like old friends.
Ransom jabbed the button for the sixth floor and got in, watching the elevator doors slide closed. Really, he was much better at small talk than he ever gave himself credit for. As soon as they got over that awkward moment where he tried to warn her off David Whitcomb, things went smoothly.
The elevator hummed as it passed floor after floor and Ransom rocked back on his heels, a warm feeling of contentment lodged somewhere in his chest. Must be the area, the new surroundings. He hadn’t felt this good in years.
The elevator doors opened and he strode down the hall with renewed vigor. Unlocking his office with quick movements, he grinned as he remembered Shelby reaching under his arm that day in class to snag her keys.
He tossed his keys on the desk and stood staring out the window, his gaze wandering across gree
n expanse of the quad to the little red brick building on the far edge. His smile faltered as he remembered the heat he felt when he looked into her eyes. Just sparks, nothing more, nothing less. Especially when he thought of getting attached to someone who spent Sunday mornings singing in church.
Lili had been strong in her faith until the end. She’d lost her faith in him, but never God. Even though God was the one who started it all. Ransom shook his head. He was thinking like God even cared enough to start something, bad or good. He could never convince himself that God didn’t exist, but there was no way that an omnipotent being cared about their little lives. If he did, why hadn’t he saved Lili? Why had he let their baby die?
He shook off the mounting questions and shuffled his papers. Circular arguments going nowhere, a waste of time. Shutting down a rising tide of unease, he turned to his desk and did what he always did when he was unnerved. He threw himself into his work.
More than once did Elizabeth, in her ramble within the park,
unexpectedly meet Mr. Darcy.
Chapter Nineteen
Another Wednesday, another early morning class. The term was flying by and Shelby had the uncomfortable feeling that she would wake up tomorrow and it would be June. It felt like spring and Shelby grabbed a pale pink linen dress out of her closet on the spur of the moment. Of course, Rebecca had a pair of shoes to match. In fact, she had five pairs and wanted to her to try them all, but Shelby snagged a pair of sling backs that weren’t too hard to walk in, added a simple pair of pearl earrings and called it good.
“Wait, I’m not finished,” Rebecca called as Shelby tried to get out the door.
“I’m dressed, leave me be,” she said, searching for her keys.
“It’s a little chilly,” Rebecca said as she emerged from the bedroom with what looked like a small white bunny. Shelby stared at it in horror, but when it turned out to be possibly the softest cashmere cardigan ever made, she couldn’t help grinning.
“I feel so... fuzzy.” She slipped it on, smoothing the amazing fabric over her arms.
“Now you’re dressed,” Rebecca said with satisfaction.
After popping upstairs to the lounge for a Diet Coke, Shelby made her way to the office. The door was open and the lights were on, of course. There were very few days when Shelby could beat Jolee to the office.
“Hi Jolee! I was just wondering if-“ Shelby started speaking before she completely entered the office. She stumbled to a stop when she saw Ransom Fielding was standing in front of the mail boxes, sorting through what looked like a pile of notices. At her words he looked up, pausing with a hand full of papers. Jolee hovered behind him and at little over five feet, she barely reached his chest.
“Shelby, honey! Come on in! I made some marmalade muffins earlier and there’s just two left. You have to have one, my granny’s recipe.” She twirled around and grabbed a paper plate, the bottom sticky with orange residue, two small muffins sitting in the center. Deftly stepping around Ransom, she presented the little plate.
“Well, thanks.” Shelby shifted her grandfather’s leather satchel to her shoulder, politely took a muffin, the glaze dripping over her fingers. Surprisingly light and with hint of honey, the aroma of orange zest filled her mouth. Her eyes drifted closed for a second as she savored the perfect combination of flavors. She chewed slowly and knew Aunt Junetta would love this recipe, maybe even use it to win a blue ribbon at the Flea Bite Creek Fair.
She looked up and saw Jolee was waiting for a verdict, her brown eyes wide with anticipation. Ransom seemed lost in thought, watching her chew. The last bite was as good as the first and Shelby tried to surreptitiously lick the glaze from her fingers, wishing for a napkin.
He turned swiftly back to his inbox, the fistful of papers crumpled a little in his hand. Shelby gave him a quick once-over now that his back was turned. He was wearing what seemed to be a very nicely tailored suit, a light tan color. And his shoes, undoubtably hand made Italian leather, Rebecca would know.
“I’ll have to get the recipe,” she said and Jolee beamed. Shelby’s fingers were turning numb from the chilled Diet Coke in her hand.
“Mr. Fielding wouldn’t take one. I think he’s afraid I put some poison in them.” She winked at Shelby, who glanced up in time to catch a flicker of annoyance cross his face as he turned at the sound of his name. He returned to sorting the slips of paper, faster now.
Now that’s more like it, back to the prickly exterior, thought Shelby.
“That’s a pretty outfit! Are you going with Mr. Fielding and Mr. Finch to that meeting at The Plaza?”
Shelby felt anger stir somewhere in the middle of her chest. Of course she wasn’t going. She didn’t even know what ‘meeting’ she was talking about.
Without even waiting for a response, Jolee said, “ I have something for you. I left it downstairs on the conference table. Just a second.”
Shelby stepped aside to let her pass. Jolee gave her a perky smile, closing the door just a little. If she hadn’t known better, Shelby would have thought that she was trying to give them private time alone. That woman was deluded, if she thought privacy would do anything other than bring out the worst in both of them. Especially since apparently only one of them was going to an important meeting with her boss.
He glanced at her as the door closed. Shelby refused to meet his gaze, instead focusing out the window. She stared at a different section of the same branch that passed her window, willing Jolee to come back.
Ransom cleared his throat and Shelby reluctantly turned to acknowledge him.
“I was thinking-
“Today I-
They started simultaneously and each broke off in an uneasy silence.
“Go ahead, please.” Ransom gestured for her to continue.
“I was just going to say they might be able to arrange to have your departmental mail delivered to Agate Hall. There’s no reason for you to have to come all the way over here to pick up phone messages.” Shelby smiled in what she hoped was a friendly way.
He seemed to consider this for a moment. “They probably could. But I don’t mind coming by.”
Oh well, it was worth a shot.
“Your turn,” she said brightly. She unscrewed the Diet Coke, and took a sip, replacing the cap a little crookedly. She clenched her jaw, irritated at the trembling in her fingers. It wasn’t really from anger of the meeting, but she wished it was. She lowered her satchel to a spot by her feet.
“Well, I was wondering-“ The rest of his sentence was lost as the bottle slipped from her hands. Desperately snatching for it, she slapped the side, speeding the downward trajectory. It slammed to the tiny area rug and erupted, sprinkler style. Diet Coke exploded two feet in every direction.
Shelby crouched and tried to grab it while shielding her face from the spray. She clutched at the base but it was slippery and it landed a second time, right between Ransom’s feet. He had jumped forward to grab Shelby’s leather satchel and held it shoulder high. The bottle let forth a final, voluminous spray before subsiding into a fizzing puddle.
“Oh my... I’m so sorry... I just...” Shelby could hardly look at him. Her hair and face were dripping, the side of her pale pink skirt was soaked, and both Rebecca’s expensive shoes were splattered with brown drops. She gazed in horror at Ransom’s suit. The only real damage was up the inside of both his trouser legs.
Shelby rushed forward with tissues from the box on Jolee’s desk. Crouching down , she mopped his shoes, then his cuffs, and was working her way up to his knees when she finally heard him, his voice sharp with alarm. “Miss Roswell, stop! Stop!”
He had hold of one of her hands, the other still holding her satchel. She futilely pressed the tissues to his knee with her free hand and looked up.
He was laughing.
Coke dripped onto her cheek from a curl of her hair. Taking a deep breath and rising, she dropped the sodden tissues in the trash.
“ I’ll pay your dry cleaning costs... if the suit can b
e saved,” she choked out. A new wave of horror swept over her. “The meeting. Do you have time to go home and change?” If Finch found out that Ransom Fielding was going to miss an important function because she’d sprayed him down with Coke, Shelby was sure she’d hear about it.
“It doesn’t start for another hour. I can probably run home.” He was still grinning.
“I don’t know what to say.” She couldn’t keep the despair from her voice. It wasn’t really the cost of the cleaning, or the suit, or ruining his morning that bothered her. It was the fact that yet again, she had created a mini drama.
“What is there to say? You turned my suit into a catastrophe and the janitor will be really ticked at that carpet stain.” His voice warmed with barely suppressed laughter, but Shelby didn’t smile.
“Thank you for rescuing my satchel. It would have been difficult to clean.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, then seemed to notice it for the first time. “That clasp... and the stitching...”
“It was my grandfather’s, and he inherited it from his father. Some of the best Savannah leather work of its time. Built to last. I don’t carry it often, just on days when I... When I need to feel his presence, some connection to him. He died my freshman year in college. It was my high school graduation present.” The words tumbled out.
Ransom gave a low whistle, turning the satchel carefully over in his hands. “It’s beautiful, remarkable. I have a friend who’s very interested in textiles and leather work. Mostly from the war, but later, also.” He passed it back, gently. “It must be going on a hundred years now.”
“I keep my current research notes in it, sort of a good luck charm.” She stared at the stain soaking into the little area rug that Jolee had brought in to brighten up the office space and sighed.
Pride, Prejudice, and Cheese Grits (Austen Takes the South) Page 9