cool like Brantley Jandt at all.
My anxious mental strain turned to a full blown panic attack as I parked my car in a back parking lot, surrounded by a full staff. “Fuck,” I said, as I shoved the car into park and jumped out like I was running to fight a fire. I had to do it like that to keep from backing up and hitting the north bound I-75 at ninety miles an hour. Right back to Nashville where I had come from. Where I belonged.
I gave myself a once-over in the driver’s side mirror, shaking my short hair into a messy, yet stylish fit. With every step I took, I breathed deep, taking in the onslaught of peering eyes. Voyeurs of all shapes and sizes eyed me up and down, and I regretted my choice of slacks. For whatever reason, I had pictured the whole thing in my head as me being alone in a classroom with Rydell Brinkley, my sexy partner. I didn’t expect all the attention, and again, I felt like the naked guy on the basketball court.
On a positive note, I only watched one set of eyes wander to my pleated pants and the careful way I situated myself off to the side. Wendi held the gate open for me with an amused look. I’m not sure if she meant to be discrete or not, but if so, she sucked at it. Her eyebrows raised up as her eyes looked down.
“Thank you. Miss Ferguson, right?” I questioned with my best charming smile as the smirk across her lips turned into a straight line, eyes matching the sudden seriousness.
Her body moved in front of mine, keeping me from entering and her laser-like eyes stopped me in my tracks. She was the hawk, I was the poor mouse, prey, and she was ready to attack. “Stay away from Rydell. You keep it professional, or you’ll have to answer to me.”
“And me,” a voice said from behind.
My head bobbed up and down in agreement while my eyes moved past her to a man way more preppie than I. His cantaloupe colored shirt looked like a pumpkin monster and his squeaky voice fit perfectly with his attire, exactly what I would expect. My eyes did the same thing that Wendi’s did, scanning his body all the way down to his white pants.
White pants? For real? “Yeah, I mean. I wasn’t.”
“I’m not a bitch. I’m the easiest person on the planet to get along with, but I’m serious. Dead serious. I know your type, and Rydell doesn’t need to get mixed up with you right now. Keep this between us, and know your place.”
I watched Miss Ferguson walk away, raising my hand to stop the gate from slamming in my face, a terrified expression not easy to hide. Jesus. What the hell? The gay guy wearing the pumpkin costume bounced away, following behind her with more attitude than even she portrayed. I swallowed away a watery mouth, wondering what the hell that was all about.
Shaking it off as best I could, I tapped my knuckles on Miss Brinkley’s door, knowing how much trouble I was in as soon as I saw her. She looked up from a laptop on her desk, dark framed glasses covering mocha colored eyes and hair falling around her face. Unlike the first time I met her, she didn’t have a messy bun on top of her head. She had long dark hair that hung in strands, curling at the ends. Her eyes were darkened with black eyeliner, but not too much, just enough to call it sexy. Her lips were painted with a clear shine, a hint of red color, and enough makeup to make her pretty, not trashy.
“What?” she asked with a snappy tone when I stood there, looking at her like an idiot.
My head and eyes shook in unison, side to side, when I realized I was staring, trying like hell not to notice the lace bra behind the white shirt. “Nothing, sorry, I’m just a little flustered.”
Her hard face softened and she smiled, shaking her own head and standing. “Of course you are. I didn’t mean to snap at you. This is probably a little overwhelming for you, I just, I mean, I’m a—.”
I cut her off with my own warm smile, fighting with everything in me not to look down at her cleavage. My peripheral vision screamed for me to look down at her short skirt, but I managed to keep