to head back to work. As much as he’d like to stay here and watch the pretty waitress and see if she actually ever managed to bring his Coke with no onions, he had a crap ton of work to do.
The shop would be closed all next week because he was participating in the Wild Wyoming Adventure Race, an event held by Linear Tactical each year. He’d probably die running the one hundred-plus-mile course, if not by the running then by any one of the crazy adventure aspects of the race—kayaking, rappelling, obstacle courses. So now probably wasn’t the time to talk to her anyway. He’d wait until he got back. If he made it back.
Maybe by then, she wouldn’t be quite so overwhelmed by her job.
He stood and dropped a couple of dollars on the table to cover his drink.
“Oh no! I’m so sorry!”
He turned to find her, soda in hand and big, brown eyes widened in alarm. She looked frazzled, and a few hairs had pulled free from her bun in wild rebellion.
“I had to take the food out, then somebody wanted to place an order, then I had to put the order in . . ..” She took a deep breath and shook her head. “I’m the worst waitress ever.”
He couldn’t stand the way her face caved in distress.
“Actually, I once heard about this diner in New York where the waitress screamed at the customers as soon as they came in telling them they couldn’t have any soup.” He took the drink out of her hand and gulped it down.
She smiled. “That was an episode of Seinfeld, and he wasn’t a waiter...he was the Soup Nazi.”
He smiled back. “Oh. Must’ve gotten those confused in my head. But I definitely think you’re not the worst waitress ever ...maybe the second worst.”
She laughed and it changed everything about her features, softening them, damn near taking his breath away.
But then she stopped suddenly as if she’d discovered herself doing something bad or inappropriate.
“You need to do that more,” he said.
“What, attempt to make silver medal for worst waitress in the world?”
Now he chuckled. “You might be able to work up to gold if you try.”
“If Lexi doesn’t fire me after this lunch shift, I give it a fifty-fifty chance at best.”
“I’ll be sure to keep an eye on social media in case she puts up a voting poll about whether to keep you around or not.”
“I didn’t get you your drink before you had to leave. I’m sure you would vote for me to be fired.”
He couldn’t help it; he reached over and touched that strand of hair she’d been fighting with all day. That little piece of rebellion incarnate.
“How about I promise to vote positively for you as long as you do one thing for me.”
The big city in her was skeptical, he could tell. “And what’s that?” she asked with an arched brow.
“Tell me your name.”
Some sort of shadow passed over her face, like the question was hard for some reason. “Quinn.”
“I’ll see you soon, Quinn.” He winked, then set the empty glass on the table and left before she could respond.
This week was finally looking up.
Chapter Three
Teton State College was not Harvard.
Of course, Quinn had known that when she’d accepted the part-time teaching position two weeks ago. She hadn’t just accepted it; she’d jumped on it.
After the Harvard fiasco when her contract had been terminated due to mental instability and failure to uphold the personal standard expected of a Harvard faculty member, she’d immediately begun applying for full-time, tenure-track positions at colleges and universities all over the country.
She hadn’t heard a word back from any of them, so she’d dropped her aim to any full-time professorship at a four-year institution, whether it was tenure-track or not. Still nothing.
By the time she’d realized she’d basically been blacklisted, she’d been out of savings and out of options. Even the part-time, adjunct positions she’d applied for hadn’t panned out, although mostly because the traditional college semester had already started.
When Teton State College offered her a position taking over three classes for an almost-retired instructor who’d had a heart attack and would be out for the rest of the year, she’d jumped on it. It wasn’t enough to live off of, but she’d been sure it was the best possible thing she could do to help rebuild her academic reputation.
Now, having started the position, she wasn’t so sure.
To be fair, it wasn’t all the college’s fault. Being a faculty member at