Let Love Heal (The Love Series) Read online

  About halfway through my shift on Thursday, Bryan comes into the lab with a brown paper bag and two Styrofoam cups. He winks at me as he walks to the computer that I’m working on.

  “Hey, Melanie. How’s everything going?” God, his voice is sexy.

  “Good, I think.” The computer takes that opportunity to bleep and yell some kind of error message at me. So much for “good” I guess.

  “Oh shit! What did I do?” Panicking, I start hitting random keys in the hopes that I’ll be able to undo whatever I just did.

  Placing the bag and drinks on a desk away from the computers, Bryan leans over my shoulders from behind and reaches his hands to the keyboard in front of me. His cologne is warm and woodsy – so masculine, so yummy. He’s typing something, but all I can see is the corded muscles of his forearm strain under his tanned skin. With his face right next to mine, his warm breath tickles my neck. “See right here?” he points to something on the screen, and by some miracle, I’m able to open my eyes enough to look at what he’s pointing at.

  “Uh huh,” I say dumbly.

  He chuckles softly. “Well, if that ever happens again, all you have to do is type in this command before hitting save and you’ll be fine.”

  “Great, thanks.” I look up over his shoulder at the clock and realize that it’s just about time for me to leave. The other employee, Derek, who will be closing up the lab tonight, got here about thirty minutes ago.

  I shut down the computer and start to gather my things. “Thanks again, Bryan. I’m done here for the night. I guess I’ll see you soon.”

  The warm and firm grasp of his hand around my forearm stops me in my tracks. “Have dinner with me?” he asks bluntly as he eyes the bag and drinks that he came in with.

  Out of some crazy instinct, I look back up at the clock and try to decline. “No, it’s okay. Really, I should get going.” I try to walk past him again but he won’t let me.

  “Please. Come on. Sandwiches out on the quad and then I’ll walk you home. Nothing big. I promise.” My stomach chooses this moment to grumble and I know that any further protest is futile.

  “Okay,” I agree and we walk out into the warm fall air.

  Bryan sets us up under the shade of a large oak tree and the meal passes in mostly mundane conversation about classes and roommates. When the conversation stops altogether, I gaze at the beautiful mountain scenery out in the distance. It’s at this moment that I catch Bryan staring at me.

  Immediately self-conscious, I move to cover my mouth. “Is there something in my teeth?” I’m sure that my face is some shade of red – being fair skinned makes any kind of blush plainly visible.

  He gently coaxes my hand away from my mouth. Bryan leans forward, and runs his thumb long my bottom lip. “Nope. Nothing in your teeth. Just had some mustard right there.” He cleans his hand on a napkin but my lip is seared by his touch.

  I’m fairly quiet the rest of the meal, because after feeling his finger on my lip, I can’t think of anything worthwhile to say.

  When he walks me to my building, I don’t know what to do. A handshake is dopey – we’re not business partners or anything like that. A hug seems too close, too personal. Jumping up into his arms and making out with him, well, I guess I’ll just reserve that for my fantasy. So when we get to the door, I just smile at him dumbly and say, “Thanks for dinner. I’ll see you soon.”

  His lopsided and goofy smile precedes his words. “Yes, you definitely will.”

  And before he’s even out of my sight, I can’t wait to see him again.

  I have survived my first week of college. Well, almost. I only have one class today, some last minute I-need-another-class-so-I-can-be-full-time-student class. Before class, I have to stop at the lab and be trained in opening procedures. The wink and smirk that accompanied Bryan’s instructions to be there at eight a.m. suggested that there was more to this meeting than just training me in how to unlock a door and turn on a few computers.

  Normally, I wouldn’t pay too much attention to my clothes, hair and make-up, especially since it’s only one class. But, since I’m meeting with Bryan first, I actually picked out my clothes last night – a khaki skirt and black baby-doll polo shirt with cute pink wedge sandals. With my hair falling in waves past my shoulders and my eyes lightly made up, I spent much more than my usual ten minutes getting ready. I feel like a dork for having spent so much time primping this morning, but I also feel pretty.

  None of the other girls have classes on Fridays. They were actually smart about setting up their schedules. Me? Apparently not so much. The suite is ridiculously quiet as I creep out the door at 7:45. When the door softly clicks behind me, and I turn to walk down the hall, I nearly scream when I hear a male voice say, “Mornin’, beautiful.”

  “Oh my God! What the hell?” My bag crashes to the ground as the shrill noise of my scream echoes off the walls. When I regain a little bit of composure, I look up into Bryan’s sparkling brown eyes. “What are you doing here?” My heart is still pounding against my chest, but watching his soft lips curl up into the sexiest smile I’ve ever seen, makes my pulse race out of something entirely different from fear.

  Extending an extra-large coffee in front of him as some sort of peace offering, he chuckles lightly at me as I clutch my hand to my chest. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just thought we could walk together.”

  I snatch the coffee out of his hands and take a sip, which helps to calm my nerves a little. Bryan hands me my bag and extends his hand out to the side to let me walk past him and down the stairs. I only live on the third floor, so by the time we get to the ground level, we haven’t said anything. But once we step out into the early morning sun, something dawns on me.

  Turning around abruptly, I place my hand on my hip and eye him suspiciously. “Hey, how did you know which room was mine?”

  “I … umm … well … it was in your paperwork.” His final answer seems to have been pulled out of thin air. So, I shoot him an “are you kidding me face” and he rolls his eyes at me.

  “Come on, we’re going to be late.” Essentially dismissing the conversation, he gently nudges me forward by placing his hand on the small of my back. The feel of his warm palm, even through my shirt, sets my skin on fire. It’s as if there’s a pulse of energy moving between us.

  It’s a short walk to the lab, so we don’t say much. I’m pretty useless without my caffeine anyway. I think Bryan was too embarrassed to say anything. That last thought makes me smile for some odd reason.

  We arrive at the lab about five minutes later and opening it is just as easy as I assumed. Unlock the doors. Flip on the lights. Turn on the computers. You’re good to go.

  Bryan shows me a few other things before an awkward silence settles in. We’re sitting next to each other at two computers checking our email before I have to leave for class. “So, um … how was your first week?” His shyness is adorable.

  So. Freaking. Adorable.

  I turn my chair to face him and accidentally bump his knee just like he did to me last time we were sitting here. It throws me off balance and I grab onto his leg to keep myself from falling out of my chair. His eyes dart to my hand and he steadies me by grabbing my shoulder at the same time. “Geez, sorry. I’m such a klutz sometimes.” I apologize though I’m feeling anything but sorry. I’d fall on my ass in front of a large crowd, if it meant that he would touch me again.

  “Ehh, it’s okay. I seem to be extra clumsy when you’re around too.” He squeezes my shoulder gently and brushes my hair to the side before letting go. My skin feels like it’s on fire where he’s just touched me and I realize that my hand is still on his leg. Pulling back quickly, I remember that he asked me something.

  “My first week was good. Nothing too interesting. Yours?” I’m nervously twiddling my thumbs in my lap. He’s too close for my brain or my mouth to function.

  “It was great actually.” The more than chipper tone of his words has me intrigued.

&nbs
p; “Yeah? What happened?”

  “I met you.” A shy smile pulls at his lips, and if I’m not mistaken, a slight blush colors his cheeks.

  Did he just say what I think he just said?

  Thinking back over the course of my week, I have to admit that spending time with Bryan has been a huge highlight. Letting go of my self-doubt, I proceed more flirtatiously than I ever would have before meeting Bryan. There’s just something about him that makes me feel comfortable and relaxed.

  “Meeting you has definitely been the high point of my week too.” We both smile somewhat sheepishly at one another before a few moments of tense silence stretch out between us.

  I twist my chair back around and face my computer once again. Pretending to be engrossed in whatever random email I opened up, I’m trying not to pay attention to Bryan, but I can feel his stare. It’s penetrating and puts me on edge. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye and he immediately looks away, busying himself with something on his screen.

  He catches me staring a few times too and before long we’re laughing goofily at one another with the dorkiest of grins on our faces. We don’t say much of anything, but the light and flirty banter is all there. I can feel the energy pulsing between us and I know he can too.

  We play this cat and mouse game of “I’m not really looking at you” until I glance at the clock.

  “Oh, crap. I have to run.” I slide my phone into my pocket and swing my bag over my shoulder. Bryan stands from his chair at the same time and we walk toward the door together.

  When we’re at the door, it seems as if neither of us knows what to say. “So, um, I guess I’ll see you at work next week, right?” I nervously adjust the strap of my bag on my shoulder.

  “Yeah. You definitely will.” When he winks at me as he says those words, blood rushes to my head and to other places, and I know for certain that there is something going on between us. There’s no way there couldn’t be something going on if I feel this way from a simple wink and smile.

  I turn to exit, but I’m so lost in my swoony thoughts and flirting that all sense of coordination escapes me. In some glorious combination of nervousness and discombobulated limbs, I pull the door open only to get it jammed up with my foot as I try to walk through it. My nose is squished by the force of me pulling the door opened while at the same time face planting into it.

  I drop my bag and the papers fly everywhere as I cup my hand over my nose. “Owww, stupid freaking door.” I curse aloud. I pull my hand away and notice the smallest trickle of blood in my palm.

  Bryan’s at my side in an instant, tipping my head back and walking me over to a chair. “Are you okay? Here, take these.” He hands me a wad of tissues that he’s just pulled out from the box sitting at the desk. As he holds my head back, he sweeps a few locks of my hair out of my face and gently runs his fingers through my long red, wavy hair. It feels so good that I almost forget about my bloody nose.

  After a minute or so, he tips my head forward slightly and kneels down in front of me. Gazing into his deep brown eyes, my insides go soft and I feel it. There’s definitely something going on here.

  He pulls my hand away from my nose. “Let me take a look.” His words are so tender and concerned that I can’t help but lean into his soft touch. When he’s satisfied that the bleeding has stopped and that I’ll be fine, he lightly kisses the tip of my nose and says, “There. All better.”

  In the past week, I can recall every single time that he’s touched me – his thumb across my lip, his arms against mine, our legs bumping into one another. But now this - his lips on my skin, even if it was just an innocent peck on a banged up nose, is pure heaven.

  “Thanks,” I say as I grab one last tissue. As I try to stand, my legs wobble a bit and I know that it has more to do with his proximity than the injury I’ve just sustained. Bryan wraps a strong arm around me to keep me from falling over. His fingers flex at the soft curve of my waist and I instantly feel self-conscious.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, genuinely concerned about my well-being.

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Thanks for helping me.” I try to move away from his touch, but he leaves his hand on me, gripping at my waist. “Let me walk you to your next class, please. I would hate myself if you left here and fainted on me or something like that.” His eyes are pleading with me.

  I decide to give in. I have to when he’s looking at me like that. “Okay, but don’t you have to stay here and work?” And, as if the Gods are listening in on us, Simon, our co-worker walks into the lab and plops down his stuff at the desk beside us.

  “Hey, Bry. Hi, Melanie.” Simon The Desk Plopper says as he starts unloading some books and an iPad from his bag.

  “Hey, Simon. I’m off to class now. See you at noon?” Bryan says.

  Simon tips his chin at us. “Sure thing. See you later.”

  Bryan returns his attention to me, though I have to admit, with his arm banded around my waist through his short exchange with Simon, I felt like his attention was never off me. “See. We can go now.” His tone is amused and his face beams with pride that he’s just won himself a few more minutes of my time.

  On the other hand, I don’t know if I can take much more of being around him. My senses are in overdrive and my mind is scrambled a million different ways. Our little exchanges over this past week have me so confused. And then today, between picking me up and flirting all over again, I’m trying so hard to wrap my head around it all. He actually seems interested in me and I just don’t get it.

  Shaking away those thoughts of uncertainty, I bend to pick up my bag, but Bryan beats me to it. “So what’s your next class?” he asks as he slides both my bag and his over his shoulder. He still refuses to break contact with me even as he holds the door open for me.

  Rather than look at him as I respond, I stare blankly out on to the quad, which is visible through the wall of windows to our side. I’m afraid that if I look directly into his sparkling caramel-colored eyes, that I’ll get lost there and never find my way out. “21st Century Technology. Room 235,” I mutter. I didn’t want to take this class, but being a freshman, my choices were limited and I figured it would come in useful somewhere along the line.

  Bryan’s deep chuckle is one of amusement. “You’re kidding, right?” he asks as we make our way down the hallway, which is now starting to fill with students making their way to their next class.

  Turning my attention from the quad back to his laughing face, I give him the side-eye. “And why would I do that?” I quip sarcastically.

  “I’m the TA in that class. It looks like we’re going to be spending lots of time together, Melanie.” His words are laced with amusement, but there also seems to be a hint of a promise in them. My stomach drops, but excitement rushes through me. More time with Bryan? Yes, please.

  “TA? Really? Are you a grad student or something?” I can’t hide the shock in my voice. I guess when I saw him in the lab, I just assumed that he was a regular student like me. It never crossed my mind to ask him how old he was.

  He shakes his head while softly laughing at my apparent misunderstanding. “No, Melanie. I am definitely not a grad student. I’m just a lowly senior.” He smirks at me playfully.

  My brows knit together in confusion. “Huh? Then how are you a TA?”

  “I’ve just always had a knack for techie stuff, I guess.” He shrugs his rugged shoulders. “I started at the computer lab when I was a freshman, and my boss – I mean, our boss,” he smiles down at me brightly. And, oh yeah, he still hasn’t let go of his death grip around my waist. “Well, when Professor O’Neil saw how much I knew, he promoted me to shift manager. Then, in my sophomore year, he asked me to help out a little more. At the end of my junior year, he asked me if I wanted to be his TA this fall. It’s a pretty sweet gig if you ask me.” He winks at me and I’m pretty sure he’s adding our recent encounters to the sweetness of his job history.

  We stop outside of our classroom and he opens the door
for me. Such a gentleman. I’m pretty sure that no one has ever held a door for me, ever. I slide past him, conscious of the heat radiating from his body, but cautious not to actually touch him. My ass gets in the way all the damn time and that’s the last thing I need him to realize.

  Bryan not only walks me to class, but he actually escorts me to a seat in the aisle. Before he walks away from me, he leans down and whispers in my ear. “Now, don’t leave without me.” His warm breath sends shivers down my spine and causes goose bumps to spread like wild fire across my neck. I can’t form words, so I just smile and nod dumbly as he turns to walk toward the front of the room.

  After the rest of the class settles in, the lecture begins. It doesn’t take me long to figure why he put me in an aisle seat. Every time he walks past me, which seems to be fairly frequently, he brushes up against my arm with his. When he hands me a stack of papers to pass down to the rest of the row, his long fingers graze over mine and he winks at me while leaving his hand on mine for longer than he really needs to. He was openly flirting with me before and I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. But now, it’s clear. He’s into me.

  Well, color me surprised. In all my life, no one has ever been interested in me. I have always been the curvy wallflower of the group and I have hated every minute of it. His flirting makes me feel beautiful and important. And it’s not just because he’s gorgeous – though that doesn’t hurt. It’s more about the way that he talks to me, with passion and energy; it’s in the way he touched my nose earlier, with kind tenderness; it’s in the way he looks at me, as if he’s actually seeing the real me.

  As Professor O’Neil, drones on and on about binary code and HTMLs, I get lost thinking about what the hell Bryan sees in me. The only answer I can come up with is that he must have trouble with his vision. I mean, doesn’t he see that I’m not perfect like the stick-thin Barbie girl sitting behind me? Back in the lab, he touched my hair so he had to notice that it was an unruly mess of red waves – not the perfectly, pin-straight blonde locks that all men seem to love and all women long to possess. Walking to class, he had his hand on my waist. He felt the soft give of my flesh – no skin and bones here. Yet, he is still actively making eye contact with me and smiling at me across the room.