Page 20 of Broken by my Bully

My head falls back as I groan in frustration. I’m in half a mind to leave everything where it is, get in my car, and take that fucking nap.

“Things seem to be going well for you today, Miss Lee. Did you walk under a ladder recently?” A deep, silky voice inquires behind me.

I shoot to my feet, spinning around so fast I nearly lose my balance and land on my face. What is it about my body going into autopilot when I’m around Professor Rooke? And if it’s going to do that, could it at least try to stay vertical?

Gravel crunches as he walks up to me. As soon as I realize he’sgoing to help me pick up the things I’ve dropped, I’m on my knees to collect them, like I’ve suddenly become weirdly competitive.

He crouches beside me anyway, picking up more than me because I drop half the stuff I pick up.

“You don’t need to do that. I shouldn’t have been carrying so many. That’s why I came to dump them in the car. Can’t be lugging around a hundred books?—“

My teeth click closed, shutting off the blathering. Don’t even know how I’m managing it with such a dry mouth.

When Professor Rooke reaches for the financial responsibility form that fluttered further away than the rest, I scramble up to grab it before he can. But he’s closer, and already holding it by the time I latch on.

He smiles ruefully when I try to tug it out of his fingers, so I whip my hand away with spiteful ferocity.

His warm brown eyes crinkle at the corners as he turns the page over to read it. With his attention diverted, I can study him outside of the confines of his lecture hall. The noon sun gleams in his black hair, tinting even more of it silver. But despite his graying hair and the deep frown lines on his brow, I’d say he’s in his mid to late thirties.

It’s downright evil how handsome he looks with his tweed jacket slung over his arm, the sleeves of his shirt pushed up surprisingly toned—and surprisingly pale—arms, a trail of dark hairs disappearing under the fabric.

“Black cats can be trouble too,” he muses, as if to himself. “I’d avoid them if at all possible.”

“No ladders. No cats. Got it.” I puff a strand of hair out of my face when it tickles my nose. “But I’m kinda leaning more toward a curse.”

“A curse?” He watches me intently, and I don’t know why, but that makes me want to keep blabbing. Maybe because it seems like he’s actually interested in what I have to say. Not sure why the hell someone like Professor Rooke would even bother asking me the time of day, but maybe he’s like this with all his grant students.

AKA, charity cases.

Ugh, of course he’s not interested in me. He simply wants to revel in philanthropic bliss.

“Mirrors are seven years bad luck, ladders probably only a week or two, right? I’ve had this generalized kind of bad luck for the past, oh, I don’t know, my entire life?” I nod definitively. “A witch is definitely involved.”

I hear him take a breath through his nose as he widens his eyes, like he can’t believe he’s standing here listening to my garbage thoughts. He carefully lays the form down on the pile in my arms and turns to his Tesla. It unlocks with an eerily dystopian chime.

“I hope you will be more prepared tomorrow, Miss Lee.” He opens the door, turning back to me as he puts his leg inside.

It has a red leather interior. Dark, like wine.

I never thought an electric car could look so sexy, but I’m pretty sure it’s less about the interior and more about the man about to climb in.

He’s so trim. So calm and put together. Total opposite of hot-head Kai and his scorching glares.

What would it take to makethis manunravel?

Oh God, he said something to me and I wasn’t listening.

Again.

“What?”

He looks away, shaking his head as he lowers himself into the driver’s seat. I swear I hear him speak again as he closes the door, but it had to have been my imagination.

No teacher in his right mind would say something like that, right?

…fuck, I love a hot mess…

Unless Professor Rooke’snotin his right mind.