Page 120 of Boss of Me

“Information Studies. I’d like to be a music librarian.”

“Excellent.” His smile is warm and friendly. “I’d love to hear more. And maybe you can share your feedback on a new streaming app we’ve got in development. Wanna grab a coffee?”

I hear Gunner’s voice in my head.No more dates with other men.

Harlan chuckles. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to put you on the spot. Guess I should have asked first if you have a boyfriend.”

“No, it’s okay,” I assure him. “I’d love to get coffee and discuss your new app.”Surely Gunner can’t object to me networking with potential employers who happen to be men?

Harlan’s gray eyes twinkle. “I don’t want to get you in trouble. Why don’t you walk me out so we can talk some more? If I seem harmless enough, we can see about that coffee.”

I smile. “Sounds good.”

Twenty minutes later as we’re leaving the classroom together, Harlan says, “You’re not from Texas, are you?”

“No. Pittsburgh.”

“Huh. I would have guessed the Midwest.” He gives me a thoughtful look. “Some might argue that Pittsburgh has more Midwest vibes than East Coast.”

“Some might,” I concede. “Why did you think I was from the Midwest?”

“You have a natural, wholesome charm that I typically associate with Midwesterners.”

I smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should.” He winks, and I wonder if he’s flirting with me.

When we emerge from the building, I’m surprised to find Gunner standing near the curb talking to two professors. He’s smiling and nodding, one hand tucked in his pocket in that effortlessly masculine way of his.

When he sees me walking with Harlan, his expression visibly darkens.

Shit.I hope he’s not going to do the jealous boyfriend routine.

He ends his conversation, shaking hands and exchanging shoulder slaps with the professors. As they walk away, his eyes fasten onto mine.

My heart starts to thrum.

Before he can take a step forward, two gushing girls approach and ask for his autograph. He graciously signs their shirts and takes a selfie with them. As they walk away giggling excitedly, he heads over to me and Harlan. He doesn’t look happy.

I swallow hard, my mouth running dry. “Gunner, this is?—”

“We’ve met.”

I feel a chill at the sheer animosity in his voice.

“Indeed,” Harlan drawls, smirking faintly. “Gunner and I go way back.”

“Really?” I say, surprised.

The two men ignore me, staring each other down.

I nervously clear my throat to break their tense standoff. “Mr. Pierce was our guest lecturer?—”

“Call me Harlan,” he says with an indulgent smile. “I’m barely a year older than Gunner.”

Before I can respond, Gunner slides an arm around my waist, pulling me to his side. The gesture is unmistakably possessive. Dangerous.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Harlan, who smiles narrowly at Gunner. “I saw a video of Marlowe playing the piano at your dinner party. She’s quite talented.”