Rodeo: A Bad Boy Romance (FMX Bros Book 2) by Tess Oliver
I reached him just as he’d finished his task. His light gray eyes crinkled with humor as he smiled down at me.
“You’re kidding, right?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Talk was that you broke his heart, and rather mercilessly, it was noted.” He clucked his tongue. “And Trenton being the biggest catch on campus.” He waved his arm around the hall. “His grandfather funded the construction of this hall, you know?”
“Yes, I know. Believe me, Trenton never missed an opportunity to point out something on campus that one of his relatives had built.”
His forehead creased. “One of the reasons for the break up, I assume?” He leaned down and picked up his briefcase.
“One of many.” I glanced over at him as we made the long journey up the shallow steps. “This kind of stuff isn’t really being talked about in the lounge, is it? I mean there’s no way a bunch of academics sit around sipping imported coffee discussing the love lives of the student body.”
He chuckled. “Well, most of us have different areas of interest, so we turn to the one thing that we all have in common— the students. But we really only gossip about you guys when something exceptionally tawdry or juicy happens.”
I nearly tripped. “There was nothing tawdry, believe me. I just couldn’t stand—”
“Relax, August, I was only joking.” He stopped and slid into a row of seats to pick up a pen someone had dropped. He lifted it and studied it. “Hmm, this is an expensive one.” He stuck it into the front of his briefcase and then looked up at me as if he’d thought of something. “What are you doing during your winter break?”
“I’m going home to California.”
“I figured. That’s too bad though. I have some work for a willing ancient antiquities undergrad. I have boxes and boxes of artifacts that need cataloguing and entering into my data base. Nothing too exciting, I’m afraid. Just a lot of pottery shards and wood fragments and the sort. But the data is important and it provides greater understanding and connections with other finds. My son, Ethan, will be working on it, but I know he could use a hand.”
My heart dropped to my stomach with disappointment. Winter break toiling over ancient artifacts shoulder to shoulder with Ethan North, the graduate student who every coed on campus dreamed about, would have been amazing. “It sounds like a great opportunity, Professor North, and under any other circumstances I would jump at the offer, but my mom and I have been planning a special holiday at home for months.”
“Of course. I understand. I’m sure I can still drum up someone’s help before everyone leaves for break.”
I was about to let him know that all he had to do was hold up a sign that said ‘come spend some quality time alone with Ethan North’ and he’d have to fight off volunteers.
He stopped before opening the door. “Do you think it’s safe to go out there yet?”
My cheeks warmed and I felt rather silly for hiding out. “Yes, I think I can venture out now, thank you, Professor.”
The crowd had already thinned considerably. My phone rang and I fished it out of my pocket. “Have a nice break, Professor North.”
“You too, August, and try not to break anymore hearts,” he called back over his shoulder.
“Hey Mom, I was thinking we should make a gingerbread house.” It was disappointing having to turn down the professor’s unbelievable offer, but I had really been looking forward to this holiday. “We’ll be covered in frilly aprons and all-purpose flour in no time.” There was a pause. Mom was not a pause person. She was a talk right over you type of person but not a pause person. “What’s wrong?” I couldn’t keep the anger out of my tone.
“Now, August, don’t get mad and defensive when I haven’t even said anything yet.”
“You paused, Mom, that’s all I needed to hear.”
“There’s been a slight change of plans,” she said hesitantly. She was definitely not a hesitator either. Mom could blast through a conversation or apology or admonition like a high-speed train. “We’re all going to France to celebrate the holidays at the Beauchamp’s country estate.” She slipped a nice dose of enthusiasm into her tone apparently thinking I was still eight and that if she said it with enough excitement then I would be right on board. But I wasn’t. My stomach turned in on itself. I needed some of my chalky tasting little helpers.
“First of all, Mom, I don’t know what your definition of slight is, but it is entirely different than mine . . . or the Oxford dictionary’s, for that matter. And you can sugarcoat your change of plans with as much of a happy tone as you can muster, but I’m not going. Frankly I would rather have a root canal than spend even one day with the Beauchamps. I can’t stand them.”
“Now August, don’t be so unsocial. They are extremely influential, and Margaret has invited her nephew to stay too. She says he is quite handsome and his father has great ties to Wall Street. And since you made the rather poor decision to break things off with Trenton—”
“Holy shit, is this what the trip to France is about?” The hallway was nearly deserted now and my voice echoed off the walls.
“Please watch your language, August, I didn’t raise you to talk like a sailor.”
“No, apparently you raised me to attract a rich guy so Dad could get stock trading tips.” I stuck the phone between my shoulder and ear and searched in my bag for my emergency supply of antacid. “Well, have a good time in France. I’m not going.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, August, of course you’re going. It will be warm and sunny in the French countryside.”
“Well, thank goodness, because I was dreading all those Southern California blizzards we have to contend with all winter.”
I could almost hear her frown in disapproval at my sarcasm. “Raymond and Patty can’t make it but Dylan and Eric will be there with Kristin and Rachel.” She always added in my sister-in-laws as if they were a bonus in any situation, but, actually, the opposite was true. I really only liked Patty, but I had nothing in common with Kristin or Rachel.
“Mom, I’m not going to be there.” My anger had diminished and now I was just profoundly disappointed. And she could not understand why, but that was usual for my mom.
There was another pause. “You can’t stay home alone for the holidays, August. That’s just silly.”
“I’ll just stay here and get some reading done. Have a good time and tell everyone hello.” I hung up before she could answer. We were on opposite coasts, and there wasn’t much she could do about it.
I trudged down the vacant hallway to the exit. Even the parking lots had cleared as people raced off campus to join in their cozy family celebrations. Tears burned the back of my eyes, and the frigid air made it worse.
Thin patches of snow on the ground had been trampled into slushy ice puddles. I stomped through them and headed toward the parking lot. My phone buzzed in my pocket but I ignored it. She’d be mad but not any more angry than I was at her for completely obliterating the fantasy I’d had about a cool, homey holiday. And now, more than ever, I realized it was just a fantasy, a silly, childish fantasy to believe that my mom would have gone for anything ordinary. At this point, I had no idea what I was going to do, but I knew one thing for certain, I wasn’t going to France. Staying alone had far more appeal than several weeks with irritating people.
My car was one of the last ones in the parking lot. In my utter disappointment, I hadn’t bothered to pull on my gloves, and the keys slid from my numb fingers. A car pulled up behind me as I leaned down to pick them up.
“Everything all right?” Professor North asked.
I straightened. “Everything’s fine,” I said weakly. “Thanks.”
“Have a safe flight home.” As he rolled up the window, his earlier offer popped into my gloom shrouded head. I leapt toward his car and tapped the window. He lowered it.
“I’m sorry to hear that but it works out great for me.” He reached for his briefcase. “I’ll write you directions. The house is rather remote, but you should have no trouble finding it. You can stay in the guest bedroom.”
“I’ll be out of your way by Christmas. I don’t want to intrude on any family—”
“August,” he looked up from the directions he was writing, and a softened, more serious expression crossed his face, “since my wife died of cancer eight years ago, we really haven’t celebrated much. She was really into it.” He smiled wistfully. “The whole house would be decorated. She’d even put little snowmen shaped soaps in the bathrooms.” He looked up at me. “You can stay as long as you like. It will probably only be Ethan and me. I’m never quite sure what my son, Dalton, is up to, and I haven’t heard from him lately.” There was sadness in his tone when he spoke about him. I knew little about his other son. He handed me the paper. “I’m heading out there now, but I know you’re not packed.” He leaned forward and looked up through the windshield. “It’ll be dark soon so why don’t you head out in the morning.” The warm smile that had won me over on the first day of his class reappeared. “I don’t like to brag, but I’m a magician with a waffle iron so come early for breakfast.”
I tucked the directions into my pocket where my phone was still buzzing like an angry swarm of bees. Professor North glanced pointedly at my vibrating pocket. “It sounds urgent.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s just my mom. I’ll see you in the morning and thanks again.”
“No, August, thank you. I was a bit worried about leaving the task to Ethan. He gets bored easily.”
“Well then, I’m the girl for the job.”
Chapter 2
A chill in the room woke me from a restless sleep. The weak gray light of dawn was slowly morphing into pink sunshine as I searched for my fuzzy slippers and got out of bed. I stepped up to the window and looked out. With the empty, stately buildings overlooking the deserted sidewalks and manicured grounds, the campus looked like an Ivy League ghost town. Aside from several maintenance workers trimming back the overgrown branches of a tree, the place was devoid of all signs of life.
In a matter of moments, my plans for winter break had changed completely, and I needed to rethink my clothing needs. Instead of a mild winter break in California where the odds of wearing shorts and sandals on Christmas Day were pretty good, I needed to shift back to warm sweaters, scarves, and lots of heavy socks.
I unpacked my giant duffle, a purchase I’d made after enduring incessant teasing from Rylie over my designer suitcases. I walked over to my dresser where I’d stacked my t-shirts and dresses and the disappointment of my situation struck me. I picked up my cell phone and turned it on. I’d turned it off to avoid my mom’s relentless calling. The second service had returned, the phone rang. I glanced at the number. It seemed my mom had called in her strongest ally— my dad. I would never consider myself to be a daddy’s girl, but I’d grown up with three brothers and so my dad had, of course, treated me differently. I took a deep breath to strengthen my resolve and answered.
“Hey, Dad.”
“How’s my baby girl doing?”
“I think you know.”
“Now Auggie, you know how much your mom has been looking forward to you coming home for the holidays.”
“I looked forward to coming home . . . to our home. She promised that we could stay home and cook and bake together. I’m not going to France, Dad.”
“You can’t stay on campus alone. No one will be there. It won’t be so bad in France. You and I could try and get away for a few days and travel to Germany or Spain.” Just like Mom, Dad had the same rotten knack for making charming, intriguing promises that he knew he’d never keep. “Now pack up and get over to the airport.” My dad could switch from the endearing how’s my baby girl tone to the authoritative August Ray Stonefield get your butt home now tone in one breath. It was probably the reason he was so awesome in the business world, but it wasn’t terribly effective on me anymore.
“Sorry, Dad, not happening. Professor North has hired me to do some work cataloguing antiquities, so I’ll be spending the break at his house.”
“What are you talking about?” Now his more severe business tone crackled through the phone. “Who the hell is Professor North?”
“He’s one of my favorite teachers, and he has artifacts to classify. Frankly, I’m excited as heck. So, you guys have a good time, and we’ll talk soon.”
He chuckled. Just like my mom was not a hesitator, my dad was not a chuckler. “Enough of this nonsense, August. I’ll have Charles pick you up at the airport.” Both my parents were so eager to see me that Dad’s driver was picking me up in Los Angeles. Truthfully, I looked more forward to seeing Charles than either parent at this point, but I was going to stand my ground this time. It was something I’d started doing after I’d moved away to college, and it was well worth the tension it caused. After being under complete control of my parents and three older brothers, who’d always been overprotective and bossy, being on my own had brought a glorious sense of freedom.
“Dad, working with Professor North is a great opportunity, and I’m not going to miss out on it. I’ll travel home at the end of January for Mom’s birthday. Have a good time and tell everyone hello for me. And tell Mom not to worry.” A tiny sound came through the phone that I’m sure had to have been my dad’s jaw dropping open.
After a chilly stretch of silence he spoke. “Your mother is not going to be happy, and I’m disappointed too.” The problem was, I couldn’t tell if he was more disappointed about not seeing me for the holiday or that I’d blown off his command to come home. I was leaning toward the latter. His phone beeped with another call.
“Bye Dad. I’ll call you when I have time.”
Chapter 3
The farther I got from campus, the frostier and slicker the roads became. It wasn’t long before I was driving along a nearly empty two lane highway that took me to a higher elevation with every curve. As a California girl, it had taken me some time to get used to driving through a Northeast winter. The icy roads and blinding snow were always stressful. Fortunately, I’d been hardened some by the nightmarish tangle of freeways and traffic in Los Angeles. But the scenery here was much more enjoyable. Spindly, winter-worn trees covered in a crystal white flocking lined the highway. Except for the occasional cherry red barn or brick house, it felt as though I was driving through a black and white picture.
In my quest to make sure to pack well for winter weather, I’d forgotten my toothbrush. But I’d been well past town before I’d thought of it. I kept an eye out for a store of some kind. Even people who lived in the remote mountain areas needed amenities like toothbrushes.
My phone had not rung since my conversation with my dad, and I was rather surprised and almost a little insulted that none of my brothers had called to try their hand at persuading me to come home.
As thrilled as I was about the prospect of sorting through artifacts, I was more than a little nervous to be working with Ethan North. He was a grad student and therefore hung out in much different circles than me. I didn’t know much about him except that he was a major head turner, and he’d had a long, tumultuous relationship with a rich, beautiful girl named Veronica. The last rumor I’d heard was that she’d moved back to New York to marry someone more to her family’s liking. I assured myself that if he was anything like his wonderful, mild-mannered father, he’d be easy and pleasant to work with. And, I was fairly certain I could work productively without crumbling into a shy, giggling school girl.
The professor’s directions sat on the passenger
I opened the door and jumped out into the knee deep snow. I pressed my hand against my chest to keep my heart from jumping out. All I could see were two large feet and what appeared to be an artistically carved walking stick.
“Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead,” I muttered through sobs as I trudged quickly over the icy road to the person. “Please don’t be dead.” I rounded a mound of snow and my racing heart dropped into my stomach. A large man was lying face down in the snow. “No, no, no,” I cried. My fingers shook as I pulled out my phone. As my fingers flew to the key pad, the crunchy bed of snow shifted and the guy pushed up to his hands. His broad shoulders had left behind a massive snow angel imprint.
“I’m not dead so you can put away the phone,” he growled without looking back at me. He shook the flakes of snow out of his long black hair and pushed back to his knees.
Every inch of me still trembled with the shock of thinking I’d killed someone. I shuffled through the loose snow and grabbed hold of the duffle that had flown from his hands as I hit him. I carried it over to him. “Are you hurt? I’ve never hit anyone with a car before,” I said shakily.
He winced in pain as he pushed back to sit on his knees. “Then your record remains solid.” He lifted his face and stared up at me with mint green eyes that would have been cold and harsh in any other face. Instead, his unsettling gaze sent a warm shiver up my spine, and my parka suddenly felt a bit too warm. He looked at me for a long silent moment, which did nothing to help my unease. “You didn’t hit me. I managed to dive out of the way before you plowed into me.”