Encore Worthy: a Mountains & Men prequel novella (11 page)

It only takes me a few minutes to walk over to the next building where the offices for the math department are housed. Just as I set my things down on my desk, I hear my phone chirp in my bag, alerting me to a text. I sit before I dig it out and shake my head when I see that I have three missed calls and a text message, all from the same man.

I’m a fucking man who knows exactly what he wants.

His words replay in my head for the dozenth time since he said them, and I do my best to stifle the little bit of hope that is seriously starting to irk me. I slide my finger across the screen on my device and open his text. A blush creeps into my cheeks and my breath catches in my throat when I read what he’s sent.

Sage:
Have you already forgotten what happens when you don’t answer my calls? Or are you just begging for me to smack that ass again?

Just as I’m about to begin typing a reply, he calls. I roll my eyes and then answer. “Hello?”

“You’re one hard woman to get ahold of, doll face.”

“I’m at work, Sage. I can’t exactly answer a call in the middle of class.”

“Class? You’re a teacher?”

I chew on my bottom lip a moment, reality smacking me across the face. I’ve spent hours in bed with him and there are a million things we don’t know about each other.
Do I want us to know each other?

“I’m a professor,” I answer, deciding that my occupation is a safe piece of intel to share. “I teach at Front Range Community College.”

“A professor?” he deadpans before he groans. “You’re killing me, baby doll. That’s so fucking hot.” His response catches me off guard and I don’t know what to say. My silence doesn’t seem to deter him. “If I’d have thought my professors could have been as gorgeous as you, I might’ve endured a couple more years of college.”

I furrow my brow, trying to make sense of his words. “You’re not in school?”

“Nope.”

“You . . . you didn’t go to college?”

“Hey, don’t judge. College isn’t for everybody. I did a couple years, took the courses I thought I needed, and I got out. My dreams don’t require a degree.”

I cross my legs and drape my arm across my knee as I think about what he’s said. He’s talking to someone who has a bachelor’s, a master’s, and a belief that higher education is valuable.

What am I doing? Every time I learn something new about him, it’s only further confirmation that pursuing anything with him is not a good idea. I should have showed him to the door as soon as I woke up Sunday morning. I should have never offered him a grilled cheese.

“What if your dreams don’t come true?” I mutter. As soon as the words pass through my lips, I know I’m being a bitch. Pushing him away is one thing, but what I just said? It was an awful thing to say. Anyone who has the optimism and strength to hold onto a dream deserves the chance to go after it without people like me tearing them down.

“They will,” he assures me, interrupting my thoughts. “Even if I die trying.”

“I’m sorry,” I sigh. “I didn’t mean—you know what? I should go.”

“Not so fast. I haven’t even asked you when you’re free for our date, yet.”

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “I wasn’t aware that I agreed to go out with you.”

“But you will. Are you free Friday night?”

“No,” I reply, not even stopping to think about it.

“You’re lying.”

“Sage—”

“What are you so afraid of, Millie?”

“Why are you so adamant, Sage?”

“I’m more than you give me credit for, baby. You can’t deny there’s something between us.”

I fidget with my fingers as I try and find the words to say. He’s not
entirely
wrong. However, it’s purely physical and I can’t help but wonder, how long before that fades? How long before he gets bored and moves on to the next pretty girl who throws herself at him? And when that day comes, because it always does, will it hurt? Am I strong enough to stick around and test my limits? Can I date him without falling for him?

Something tells me the answer is
no.
I’m not that strong. Deep down, I know that too much attention from one man will only shed light on the truth that I’m usually so careful to keep under wraps. The truth is, I get lonely. I’m human. It’s easy to cover it up with work and books and the occasional one night stand. But—dating? It’s just a recipe for disaster and I know it.

“Millicent . . .”

My stomach flutters at the tone of his voice and I close my eyes as I draw in a slow breath. “I’m just a woman. There are others.” Saying the words fills me with disappointment. I know, in this moment, that there’s already a small part of me that is aching to latch onto him, which is exactly why I need to say goodbye.

“One date, gorgeous. Just say yes. I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Sage—”

“
Jesus,
you’re so fucking impossible, did you know that? I don’t know what asshat made you so guarded, but it’s like I said. I won’t take no for an answer. I want you, doll face, and I know you want me, too. I’m taking you on a date. Until then, I’ve got a show this Saturday. We’re headlining at The Wash Bar. I hope you’ll come.”

“I’ll think about it,” I mutter, not sure if I mean it or if I’m simply hoping it’ll get him off the phone.

“You’re playing hard to get—but I’m not afraid of a little challenge. I’ll catch you later, doll face.”

He disconnects the call without another word.

I’M AT THE OFFICE
longer than usual, content to drown myself in work for a few hours. I catch up on all that I fell behind on last night; then I get ahead on my lesson plans for the next couple of weeks, making sure that I stay close to the syllabi that I created to plot out the course of the semester. When I finally make my way to my car, I think about just going home. I’m exhausted. But then I think about climbing in my bed and I know that the pillow on the right side of the mattress will smell like Sage. Thinking of Sage reminds me of the way he woke me up this morning, and remembering his tongue awakens the desire that emanates between my legs, and I know I won’t get any sleep until after I’ve managed to exhaust myself completely.

Fucking bastard. Fucking arrogant little shit with a fucking unbelievably talented mouth. And don’t even get me started on that dick . . . Fuck!

By the time I get to the gym, I’m so irritated at myself for turning into
exactly
who I told him I wasn’t—a nameless, fangirl, slut who would fall to my knees and suck his cock as if it were my privilege. Well, I suppose the nameless part isn’t accurate . . .

Oh, but the sound he makes when he comes, it just might be a damn privilege to suck that out of him.

When I pull into the parking lot, I turn off my car and press my head back against the headrest. I inhale deeply and exhale slowly, combating my desire to call him. Something tells me that if I told him I had an itch that I needed him to scratch, he would do it. All night long. I’m so tempted that I leave my phone in the glove compartment when I get out of the car and make my way inside.

Just as I’m about to step foot into the locker rooms to change, Aria and Sarah are on their way out. They stop when they see me, both of them looking energized after an invigorating workout.

“You’re here late,” says Aria. “Too bad you weren’t a little earlier, you could have joined us for Josh’s class.”

“Yeah, I didn’t plan on being here so late, but I got caught up at work and . . .” I trail off, deciding that
why
I’m here at this hour isn’t something I need to divulge. “Are you two headed home?”

“Yup,” Aria replies with a nod.

“Actually, Millie, do you mind if I talk to you for a second?” asks Sarah, tightening her long ponytail.

“Um, okay.”

“I’m going to bother Josh,” Aria says with a wink. “Just come grab me when you’re done. Good seeing you, Millie. Enjoy your workout.” She bounces off and I give my attention to Sarah, completely unsuspecting of what she might want to speak to me about.

“I ran into Sage this morning at the apartment,” she tells me with a small smile.

When she doesn’t continue, I shrug and shake my head in confusion. “Okay. And?”

“Aaaaaand, I don’t know,” she laughs, in that way that tells me she’s not sure how to respond. “He seems to be really interested in you.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, still uncertain where this conversation is supposed to be going.

“Look, I know it’s none of my business, but I really think you should give him a chance. He’s a good guy, from what I can tell. And, actually, I was thinking that maybe we could all go on a triple date or something. I can’t this weekend, because I already have plans, but maybe next weekend? You, Sage, Aria, Josh, Brandon and I—we could all go to The Brew Cycle and hang out. It could be fun. I mean, we had a great time the other night, right?”

“Um,” I begin to say, adjusting the strap of my gym bag against my shoulder. “I’m not really sure what I’ll be up to next weekend.”

She smiles at me knowingly. “Just think about it, okay? I know you and I got off to a rough start, but I hope we can be friends. Spending a night out with everyone would be totally low key. No pressure.”

“Sure. Okay, yeah. I’ll think about it,” I concede, appreciating her olive branch.

“Great. Well, I’ll let you get to your workout. See you.”

“Bye.”

We part ways and I don’t waste any time changing into my shorts and tank top. I really don’t want to spend the next hour thinking about Sage or Sarah or The Brew Cycle—I just need to clear my head. I’m pulling my hair up into a ponytail as I make my way out onto the gym floor. It’s then that I realize that by leaving my phone in my car, I’ve left my collection of audiobooks, too. Knowing I’ll have to find another way to occupy my thoughts, I opt to exhaust my body with a run on the treadmill. The line of machines face the half of the gym dedicated to the free weights and there’s always plenty of eye candy to keep a bitch in heat distracted.

Five minutes into my run, someone catches my eye. He’s tall with a mop of blonde hair on his head. He’s not wearing a shirt, only a pair of shorts with his tennis shoes. He looks like . . .
Hercules,
and that observation makes me smile. I watch him do a rep with a set of heavy weights, working his biceps, before he drops them onto the mat. I roll my eyes when he pulls out his phone and snaps a shot of himself in the mirror. I look away, immediately uninterested, but not before he catches me staring. For a second, I think I’m in the clear; but when I look back in his direction to insure he’s not concerned with me, I spot him headed directly toward me.

I stifle a groan and up the speed on my machine. When he’s closed the distance between us, he doesn’t speak to me right away. Instead, he hops onto the treadmill next to mine and starts to jog. It’s not long before his pace matches my own. I can tell, looking out of the corner of my eye, that he keeps glancing in my direction. Finally, the inevitable break in silence occurs.

“Do you want to race?” he asks, speaking loud enough to be heard over the hum of the moving belt and the
thump, thump, thump
of my footfalls.

I look over at him, caught off guard by his question. “Excuse me?”

He grins and the dimple in his cheek makes me want to smile in return, but I fight the urge. “Do you want to race?” he repeats.

“Um, no . . .” I mutter.

“Oh, come on. First one to three miles wins. You’ve already got a head start.”

“Just what would we be racing for?” I ask, a little short of breath.

“If I win, I get to take you out. If
you
win, you get to choose where we go.”

My mouth falls open and I clamp it shut when he winks at me.

What the fuck? Do I have a stamp on my forehead that says, ‘Looking for a good lay—cocky bastards wanted’? Because that’s what it’s starting to feel like.

“Lighten up,” he says with a chuckle, pulling me from my thoughts. “I’m a good time, guaranteed.”

“Good for you,” I mumble.

“
Kidding!
Well—sort of. I am a good time. My name is Keith, what’s yours?”

I look away from him, wondering how long I’d have to ignore him before he caught a clue.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll just have to call you beautiful. I’m certainly not opposed if you aren’t. It’s true.”

His compliment softens me up just a little and I decide I don’t have to be so rude. The least I can offer him is my name. “My name is Millie.”

“Ah, see? Now we’re getting somewhere. Though, if you won’t race me for a date, I guess I’ll have to go about it the old fashioned way. So how about it? You, me, dinner, Friday night?”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” I tell him, looking straight ahead.

“What about if we just happened to be in the same place at the same time?” This time, when I look over at him, he’s not on his treadmill. Instead, he’s standing right beside mine. “Saturday night. There are a few bands playing at The Wash Bar. I’ll be there. I’d love to buy you a drink.”

I stare at him for a moment, struggling to decide if his persistence is annoying or brave. I can’t decide and I’m soon distracted as I’m reminded of the first invitation that I received to attend The Wash Bar this weekend—from Sage.