Page 12 of Broken Beauty (Beauty 3)
Frustrated, he practically growled, “Come in. Close the door before anyone gets here.”
She smiled, her lids lowering. “Whatever you say, Blake. I always liked it when you gave me orders.”
He shook his head. “It’s not like that, Melinda. You and I are done, exactly how I told you when you came to my office. I thought you understood then, but apparently not. What the hell were you thinking breaking into my house?”
She pouted. “I had my old key. Anyway, I realized I made a mistake letting you go.” Her voice dropped, the same way he’d always found so damn sexy. Now he felt nothing but impatience and annoyance.
“So, telling me I could never be the man you’d once loved…that was a mistake?”
She threw up her hands. “I didn’t know how to deal with it. It was hard, okay?”
He felt a stirring of sympathy. The whole situation had been a fucking mess. He didn’t want to judge her too harshly for bailing. He knew very well what the explosion had ruined, and it was a lot more than his face. But that didn’t mean they could turn back the clock. He wouldn’t even want to.
“It’s over between us. I’ve moved on.”
Her eyes narrowed. “So there is another woman.”
Annoyance clawed at him. “I don’t care what you tell yourself about this. You can paint me as the monster. Lord knows I already look the part. But we’re not doing this anymore. I’ve had the locks changed. If you show up again, I’m calling the cops.”
Her eyes widened, nostrils flared. At least he’d finally made his point.
“Fine,” she ground out. “I was only doing this to be nice. You’re pathetic anyway, walking around campus with no shame. Don’t you realize everyone is staring at you?”
Unfortunately, he did. “We’re done here.”
She gave him a sly smile. “What am I even talking about? No one would date you now unless you paid them. I’m only here because your mother called me, worried about her little boy.”
Jesus. Dear old mom had never given up on him like his father had.
“Are you finished?”
“I’ll see you at the Faculty Ball. You wouldn’t miss it, would you?” Her smirk made it clear she expected him to hide.
“Of course not.”
The gleam in her eyes was bloodthirsty. “I look forward to it.”
“As do I.”
After she left, he let his eyes shut, a small release of his frustration. At least that part was over. The side of his face burned with the familiar, daily pain—and a small but real dose of humiliation. Walking around campus with no shame.
Footsteps approached. It was too late to back down now. Hell, it had already been too late. With a sinking feeling, he stepped back as two students burst in. They were clearly in the middle of a conversation, one animating her words with her hands, the other with his head down, looking at his phone as he walked. The girl saw him first. She stopped. And gawked. The boy glanced at her first, mouth open mid-sentence. Then he saw Blake and his mouth gaped open.
Blake tried to clear the air. “I’m Professor Morris. I’ll be teaching this course. Grab a seat, we’ll get started in a minute.”
He found a smile, the one that used to put people at ease. His world had been divided into before and after. Before, he could charm anyone with that smile. Now, he knew, it looked more like a grimace. The boy seemed to recover better. He brushed it off with a nod of greeting before hitching his backpack and grabbing a seat. The girl took it a little harder, peering at his face as if it were a puzzle for her to solve. Blake forced the smile to stay in place and gritted his teeth. She finally turned to take a seat beside her friend when Erin walked in.
All the air sucked out of the room, like it always did when Erin was near. The explosion had brought him low, but it was nothing compared to what she did to him. The scars were a frustration, the constant pain a prolonged sort of torture. But the pain she could deliver would devastate him.
And she wasn’t looking at him.
Her head was down as she passed him, leaving only the sweet Erin scent in her wake. She took the seat farthest in the back, though the room was small enough that they were still close. Even as she unpacked a notebook and pen, she consistently avoided eye contact.
He frowned. They’d agreed not to give away their relationship, but this was extreme. It probably hinted at inappropriate behavior more than outright flirting would have done. No, it was more than circumspection. Something was wrong. And he’d have to sit through a whole class before he could ask her what it was.
CHAPTER FOUR
Erin focused on lining up her pens beside the notebook. She flipped the page open to a fresh one.
