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Because of course they did.
Nick refused to acknowledge them. Since the minute they’d arrived that morning, they’d been laughing and joking and generally beinghappy. Nick knew he should feel bad for not offering to lend a hand, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.
He watched as they ordered drinks and food from Magnus and then chatted to each other—Christ, how much could they have left to talk about? The mirror in the backbar came in handy sometimes. The liquor bottles, baseball trophies, and stacks of glasses hindered his sightline a bit, but he still had a decent view of Purdy and his minions.
Damn.
Behind him, Purdy stretched and rolled his neck, his muscles tensing and tightening underneath his white t-shirt and Carhartt work jacket. Purdy had aged well, too well. Still spank-bank material. Maybe even better than he had been when Nick was twenty.
Definitely better. Unfortunately for Nick.
Professor Martin Purdy had evolved from an easy-on-the-eyes instructor to a hot silver fox. He kept himself in shape, probably working out regularly to be as fit as he looked. Nick would’ve remembered those massive biceps from the hours he’d sat through Purdy’s lectures. They would’ve been etched in his brain, even if he hadn’t been able to keep facts about sedimentary rocks straight in his head—those arms made him squirm in his seat. He also didn’t remember Purdy wearing t-shirts so tight they should be illegal; could the man not find them in his size?
Earlier in the day, Purdy had shed his jacket as he and his friends unloaded the moving truck. Nick had stopped breathing for several heartbeats until his lungs reminded him he needed oxygen. Because holy. Fucking. Cow.
And the Prof was going to be living right here. In Cooper Springs. Just a couple hundred feet from Nick. He’d see him every fucking day; there was no way to avoid it without turning into a vampire and only leaving his cabin late at night.
Was this the universe rewarding him or punishing him? The way Nick’s life usually went, the needle was pointing toward punishment.
His attention drifted back to the three men sitting in the booth behind him. Purdy had his coat off again. Seriously, those arms should be illegal. Was it wrong that Nick planned on fantasizing about them later in the privacy of his bedroom? He deserved it. If Purdy was going to be in his face 24/7, he could also star in his fantasies.
Right.
So. No massive biceps had been in play back when Nick had been young and trying his hand at college. Mostly, his college memories consisted of the humiliating begging he’d resorted to when it finally dawned on him he might actually fail Geology 101.No one failed Geo 101. Geo 101 was nicknamed Rocks for Jocks for a reason—even the football players could easily pass the class.
Not Nick. Instead (after the begging), he’d been on the receiving end of a politely worded email suggesting he take an incomplete or drop the course because, with his quiz and midterm scores, he was unlikely to pass.
Below Grade.
He’d deleted the email, but it was burned into his memory.
Since he’d known exactly what his parents’ response would be, Nick had gone to the bank the next morning and emptied his bank account. Cash in hand, he’d packed his bags and then driven all that he couldn’t carry in a backpack back to Cooper Springs, where he stashed the stuff with his best friend, Liam. After which, he’d turned right back around and caught the next flight out of SeaTac to Southeast Asia.Phnom Penh or Bust.
It seemed like a good idea at the time.
And that was just in the first twenty-four hours.
“You seem extra gloomy tonight, son,” Magnus commented, interrupting the unwelcome trip down memory lane. “Can I get you a beer? Or one of Forrest’s lavender lemonades? I read that lavender is good for depression.”
“First of all, I’m not your son, Magnus.” Nick did not need Magnus’s fucking cheerful crap right now. Not when he was hate-sex-fantasizing about the man who pounded the last nail into the coffin of Nick’s college career. “And, for your information, I’m not depressed. I’m pissed off.” And now, also, horny.
Magnus laughed at his words, which, yes, pissed Nick off even more.
His uptight, conservative parents never accepted any sort of failure. The Waughs had firm opinions about what success was, and their only child had never measured up. If parents could return children as defective, not up to standard? Yeah, Michael and Jerri Waugh would have been first in line. Nick hadn’t spoken to them in eleven years.
Not long after leaving the States, he’d thought maybe they would want to know where in the world he was, so he’d managed to scrape up the courage up to call them. His mother had answered and before Nick could say much more than his name, she’d hung up. Failing out of school was just the excuse they’d needed to fully turn their backs on him.
He’d never tried to contact them again. Not even after he’d been injured.
“It’s probably good for bad attitudes too,” Magnus said once he was done chuckling at his stupid joke.
“Fine.”
Magnus lifted one dark, bushy eyebrow, casting him a gimlet stare.
“Yes, Magnus, I’d love a lemonade,” Nick said in a singsong voice.
Smiling even though Nick was being an ass, Magnus bent to open the undercounter fridge. Lifting out a heavy glass jug, he poured the pale-yellow liquid into a pint glass, dropped in a straw, and slid it across the counter in front of Nick.
