His brows lift. “Ten grand? For what?”
I exhale. “Hamilton’s check for the remainder of my tuition expenses hasn’t cleared for some reason, and I need to put down a security deposit for an apartment today.”
“Problem?” Dr. O’Rourke asks over my shoulder.
I jump at the sound of his deep voice. Like, just the tenor has hidden hieroglyphics of our sordid night together. No words needed.
“Dr. O’Rourke, excuse me.” My father pulls me toward him, protective and mechanical as his brows knit together. “I’m having a private conversation with my daughter.”
“And she’s in my class,” he says, his arms folded. “I just spoke to her. Perhaps it’s not appropriate for me to be teaching your daughter, since you know…”
You.Know?
He certainly does not know.
“I taught Dr. O’Rourke at UCLA,” my father says proudly. “Dr. O’Rourke, I have confidence you’ll be fair and impartial with my daughter regardless of our history.”
“Oh,” I say, putting together the comment Dad made when he met with Cormac and Darragh back in August.
“As far as your situation, Scarlett…” My father bristles, not wanting one of his professors to know he is hurting for money. “I thought you were applying for campus housing?”
“I’m an MS-3, Dad,” I remind him through gritted teeth.
Crap, now I’ll lose that apartment, and I’llhaveto settle for student housing with roommates. Embarrassing at my level.
Dad opens his mouth to argue more, but an administrator down the hall calls out, reminding him about the meeting he’s late for.
“I’ll be right there,” he shouts back.
For a moment, he looks from me to his former student, now my professor. I have no idea what look is on Dr. O’Rourke’s face, but I’m trying my best to act like I just met the man two hours ago.
“I’ll call you later, Scarlett.” My father leans in and kisses me on the forehead.
I imagine he’s giving my professor a warning with his eyes. Christ, can this be any more complicated?
Dad stalks off, and I turn to my professor.
I hold my breath as we lock eyes. He gives me a cool, neutral, professional smile that sits on the surface of his skin. Underneath, I feel heat.
“I need to go.” I turn to walk away.
Dr. O’Rourke closes a hand around my upper arm. “Where? You moved out of the hotel.”
“That was a month ago. Did you think I’d just live off some stranger and…” The words die in my throat.
“Stranger?” he says, all coy.
“Generousstranger.” I pull at my collar, getting heated at how close he is.
He is as handsome as I remembered. Even more in his hot professor jacket and tight jeans. Acting possessive of me and not trying to push me away like he was five minutes ago isn’t helping me hate him.
“Where is this apartment you want?” he asks.
“You heard that?” My throat swells with awkwardness. “No. I can’t tell you that. It’s…inappropriate.”
“I can find out,” he says wryly.
“It’s on First Avenue,” I answer, not having the energy to argue anymore.