Page 216 of The Professor's Wife

You can run. He’s in the restaurant—

I stared down the dimly lit street, feeding into the thought a little bit. I didn’t have money. Everything I’d managed to squirrel away was hidden in the laundry room—

Who cares? Just run and find a way out. Do it now and don’t look back.

My legs wobbled, the urge present. I let out a frustrated breath and shook my head. I couldn’t do that. Not in this dress. Not without two pennies to rub together. If I ran and he caught me, I would undo years of obedience. He could be testing me all over again.

“You look lost.”

The voice made me jump, like I’d been caught for having such daring thoughts. Cheeks flaming, I turned my head and found the singer from earlier sitting on the ledge of the garden bed.

Familiarity struck me so sharply that I forgot to breathe.

His guitar case was leaning against the garden bed wall beside him. I looked him over quickly. He wore a plain white T-shirt and jeans—an ordinary outfit I hadn’t registered while he was singing. His face was so handsome, rugged and boyish at the same time, that you didn’t pause to look at the rest of him. Not when he had a voice like that, either.

But he wasn’t singing right now, and even though he dressed ordinarily and didn’t currently strum a guitar, his presence was anything but ordinary.

Oh, and his hands were huge.

I watched them as he dug one into his pocket and pulled out a lighter.

I thought about you all dinner.

I didn’t say that, but I wanted to.

“Not lost,” I said quietly, finally finding my voice. “Just…waiting.”

I felt his eyes on me, and I looked back to see his gaze running over me slowly. I balled my hands together, feeling suddenly conscious. He didn’t respond to that. Just stared at my figure quite thoroughly. It was sort of rude, but…he didn’t look like he was checking me out. Not at all.

It was more like he was being nosy.

Assessing me.

I wondered what he saw.

Oliver had made me wear his favorite dress. It was deep blue with white floral designs. There was some cleavage, but nothing too unladylike. The hem ended several inches above my knees, and the fabric hugged my figure. No conservative cut could hide my curves completely. To finish it off, I had pearl earrings on and a short gold chain necklace with a thin gold butterfly pendant.

His perusal ended, and he looked down the street, his attention drifting elsewhere. I could make small conversation or let him be. The easiest choice would be to leave him be. He wasn’t here for conversation, I could tell. He was lost in whatever volatile thoughts made his expression flat and empty. He didn’t even appear like he remembered me when he sang, which meant there had been nothing there and I’d made it up because I was crazy.

But then I thought of him singing that painful song and—

“I heard you,” I found myself saying before I could stop myself.

I swallowed when his eyes darted back to meet mine. He held my gaze easily, his eyes empty. When he didn’t speak again, I gave him a polite smile.

“You’re really good.”

He grunted once, uttering a hollow, “Thanks.”

“It was heartbreaking.” I should really shut up, but I kept thinking of the tormented look in his eyes as he sang that damn song. “What did she do to you?”

The question was sudden. I may as well have shot him the way his jaw tensed, the only indication I’d asked something I shouldn’t.

I winced immediately, shaking my head. “I’m sorry. Don’t answer that. It’s not my business.”

He didn’t reply for so long that I figured he was done with me. I didn’t blame him. Groaning inwardly, I glanced once more at the restaurant. Oliver had his arms crossed and was leaning against the counter like he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Angela was touching his arm, grinning as she listened to him talk.

I looked back at the street, extremely aware the man was only feet from me. I could just go into the restaurant, but I liked the heat in my body at his close proximity. My body didn’t want to listen to reason. I stood there for what felt like a solid minute.