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4
Taylor
I was absolutely mortified.
A stranger had come up to me, asking if the seat was taken, and I poured my soul out to him. Rambling and ranting like some teenage girl who couldn’t control her emotions, rather than the associate professor that I was.
I quickly mumbled something about how he could sit there, then I resumed watching the front door for my colleagues.
To my surprise, the hooded man didn’t sit at the other end of the table. This guy sat right across from me.
“I’ll take the honey mustard chicken sandwich with avocado,” he said to the waitress, “with sweet potato fries, and…” He glanced at my glass. “And whatever the lady’s having.”
“It’s the blonde ale,” I said. “It’s really good.”
“All right, then.” He leaned toward me. “So who’s the asshole who stood you up?”
I half-cringed, half-smiled. “You don’t have to be polite. I didn’t mean to unload on you about my problems.”
The man lowered his hood and grinned at me. “I’m no good at fixing problems, but the one thing I am good at? Listening. And sometimes, listening is just as good as fixing.”
I found myself smiling back at him. He had a slight Texas accent, and without his hood up, I saw that he was gorgeous. A dark-brown beard and short-cropped hair. Eagle-like eyes behind a strong nose. And although he was wearing jeans and a baggy University of Texas hoodie, he moved with the easy gracefulness of an athlete. Someone who was strong.
Even if I wasn’t all alone and feeling down on myself, I would have wanted to talk to this guy.
“My colleagues,” I said. “I’m a new associate professor at the university. They invited me to trivia night. Well, technically I kind of invited myself along. But I’m beginning to think they’re not showing up.”
“A professor?” He nodded thoughtfully. “That’s pretty cool. I bet you kick ass at trivia.”
“I do!” I said. “I’m really good at Jeopardy. My at-home Coryat score is usually about twenty thousand.”
He accepted his beer from the waitress and leaned across the table toward me. “I won’t lie: I have no idea what a Coryat score is. But it sounds like you’re pretty damn smart. So I think those other professors are a bunch of assholes.”
“Cheers to that,” I said with a laugh as I clinked my glass to his. We both drank, and then I said, “I don’t want to assume it’s sexism, but it’s hard not to wonder. The Dean was very friendly to me when we exchanged emails, but his entire demeanor changed when he met me today and realized I was a woman.”
“Why? Do you have a guy’s name or something?”
“Taylor,” I said. “Taylor Fox.”
My new drinking buddy made a face. “That’s not that masculine. What about Taylor Swift?”
“Exactly!”
“For those keeping score, I’m definitely on Team Foxy,” he said. “You didn’t want to hang out with them, anyway. I bet they’re old and crabby.”
I tried not to giggle. “You’re not wrong. By the way, you didn’t tell me your name.”
“Brody,” he said after a second. “Brody Carter.”
He paused, like I would make fun of him or something. “Nice to meet you, Brody. Must be nice having a name which immediately conveys your gender.”
He grinned. “It’s served me well so far!”
The waitress delivered his food. Brody picked up his sandwich and immediately took a huge bite. Even though the chicken patty was enormous, it looked small in his massive hands.
“Hell, Taylor’s not a crazy name for a girl,” he said between bites. “I dated a girl in high school named Charlotte, but she went by Charlie. Trust me, I got some looks when I told people my girl’s name was Charlie. Compared to that, Taylor’s feminine as hell.”
“Thank you,” I said.
