Page 40 of The Professor's Wife

The seconds that slipped by felt like an eternity. In a matter of moments, I relived my pain and then swiftly silenced it.

Finally, I said in a tiny voice, “I don’t have a plan. I can’t even read a map. I don’t know where I’m going. I just know the way behind me is gone, and I can’t ever go back.”

“Sounds like we’re in the same boat.”

I looked up at him, my brows furrowed. “How?”

There was no humor in him now. Only pain.

“We’re both running from our past.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I choked out, “Do you think it can be outrun?”

He pressed his lips together for a moment, considering my question. Then he leaned forward, his eyes locked on mine. “No, but we can give it one hell of a chase.”

A spark shot through me at that response.

My mouth spread into a wide smile. “I like the sound of that.”

He smiled softly back. “Come on a walk with me. I want to show you something.”

I glanced at the clock. I needed to leave anyway.

“Okay.”

We cleared the food away and tossed everything out.

We entered the bathroom, and it felt impossibly small with him inside it. It didn’t unnerve me or make me feel crowded. Every time his body bumped into mine, I felt myself warming, leaning into him without thought. Then he caught sight of my bra still hanging on the rail, and his eyes flickered over me in the reflection of the mirror. My cheeks burned as I looked down into the sink, concentrating very hard now on getting myself clean.

My heart picked up. Funny how you didn’t have to look at someone to know what they were thinking. I could feel his gaze on me, could feel his bare thoughts, and it took me back to last night. To him inside me, pleasuring me. To him kissing me like he never wanted to stop. I swallowed hard.

As we washed our hands in the bathroom sink, I asked, “What are you going to show me?”

He dried his hands with the small towel and shot me a heart-stopping grin.

“My ride.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

I checked out with Tristan at my side, ignoring the receptionist’s lingering stare. Her eyes had widened at the sight of him–tall, golden, and effortlessly magnetic. But it was me she seemed most shocked by. Judging. Wondering. Her gaze flicked between us like she couldn’t make sense of the pairing. Our appearances clashed in a way that made us look worlds apart, and yet I hadn’t felt that divide once…until she looked at us like that.

We stepped onto the crowded path leading to his van. My shoulders relaxed the moment I saw the cop car was gone. No flashing lights. No imminent threat. The tension that had coiled in my spine for the last hour began to unravel. I felt lighter. The heat of the sun didn’t bother me. If anything, the world looked brighter, and it had little to do with the morning light.

We walked across the gravel lot, weaving between parked cars and sunburned tourists. Tristan’s stride was easy, confident. Mine was more hesitant, like I wasn’t sure what I’d find at the end of this walk.

Then I saw it.

A sky-blue VW camper van, vintage and charming, parked beneath a crooked pine tree. It looked like something out of a road-trip movie: rounded edges, white roof, chrome bumpers catching the sunlight.

It was spotless.

Not just clean, but beautifully maintained. The paint gleamed, the tires looked new. Even the windows sparkled.

Wow.

“This is it,” Tristan said, pride in his voice. “My ride.”

“You live in this?”