Page 27 of Freed By the Witchbone Knife

“Going to need you to sign here.”

“Uhm. Just a moment.” I reached for the card sticking out of the roses, flipped it open, and promptly shut it. “I think there’s been a mistake.”

“You are Professor Miller?”

“She’s professor Miller,” someone shouted, not bothering to disguise the giddiness in their voice. I shot my students a glare.

“Then I’m going to need you to sign.”

“But I don’t want them.”

“Just doing my job.” She was older than me by a decade perhaps. And it’s not like this was her fault.

“Fine.” I quickly scribbled my name and she promptly departed.

“Who are they from?” Tyler asked.

“Someone not worth mentioning.” I bit the words out.

“Ohhh, burn!” Someone snickered, though I wasn’t sure who. I had thirty students and I was too close to a meltdown to care.

“Let’s just finish up with this example problem and call it a day, huh? I know you guys are probably drowning in homework.”

There came a chorus of excited agreement. I rushed to the board and fumbled my way through the rest of the projectile motion problem for rockets. Then I promptly dismissed the class. Maybe they knew I was upset because for the first time, no one lingered behind. I took a moment to read Ambrose’s note again.

Since you don’t want to come home, I’ll come to you. I hear Redding is beautiful this time of year. Perhaps that little bungalow of yours has a guest bedroom?

—Ambrose

Over my dead body.

Grabbing my things, I hoisted up the flowers and promptly delivered them to the admin office. The young man behind the desk eyed them with confusion. “I’m allergic,” I supplied, setting them down. “Perhaps someone here can make better use of them.”

His face lit up. “Sure thing, Professor Miller.”

I turned on my heel and strode out, crumpling the note and tossing it in the nearest trash bin.

Autumn had officially begun, and most of the storefronts on Main Street were now decorated with displays and painted windows. I knew I shouldn’t—because I certainly didn’t have much time, and the majority of the recreational reading I did was on my eReader—but I slipped into The Last Page bookshop. I needed a little something to calm me before heading over to The Roost. So I let myself get lost in the aisles, gravitating toward the romance section. It was a guilty pleasure of mine, reading the blurbs on the back of each book. There’s always enough to dream up a story without having to pick up the book.

Somehow, an hour slipped by, and I found myself rushing to purchase two that I’d probably never get around to reading. I didn’t want to miss Axel’s appearance, so I hurried into The Roost to claim my favorite table, then headed to the front to order. Something drove me to go for Axel’s favorite cookie. I paired it with the chamomile vanilla tea and headed back to my seat, but not before Iris gave me a pointed look, to which I lifted my brows and dared her to challenge me.

Ten minutes passed, and I failed miserably to focus on my grading. Tyler’s assignment was a mess. He missed half the vector notation, incorrectly balanced his equation, and forgot the units on three separate answers. With such clear mistakes, it should have been easy to delegate which points were awarded where. And yet, my mind kept wandering to a certain werewolf. Every time the door chime rang, my gaze furtively darted up.

At last, just as Iris promised, Axel strode in at 3:30pm. Trying not to appear overeager, I slowly looked up and met his gaze. What I saw there had me backpedaling. Instead of familiarity, I saw cold detachment. His eyes flicked over me for the briefest moment before moving away as he walked up to the counter.

I couldn’t help it. My jaw dropped in shock. I was rooted to my seat, trying to decide if I should go over to him and demand an explanation, or if maybe, just maybe, I had imagined whatever thawing happened between us on Sunday afternoon.

I tried to catch his gaze the entire time he waited for his order at the counter, but he didn’t look in my direction a single time. Something heavy and hot slipped into my gut. I didn’t like it.

I especially didn’t like that I cared.

Today had already been a shit day, thanks to Ambrose’s flowers and note. I didn’t deserve to deal with two men who couldn’t behave with decency. So why was I letting it affect me?

I shouldn’t. That was the short of it. So, I clenched my teeth and returned to my grading. I didn’t look up a single time. Not when I heard his boots cross the floor, or the door chime when he left. Even though I could have sworn I felt his eyes on me on his way out.

My irritation stayed with me for the remainder of the day. Made worse by a text from another unknown number.

Unknown number