and consider teaching the class?”
“I’d rather go to Italy with you, but it seems Ailean has spoken for that position so I’ll consider accepting this one.”
Blair placed a warm hand on Cullen’s shoulder. “This is tailor-made for you, just as the Italy job is for me. Have faith in yourself.”
With the box of notes balanced in one hand, the brass knob clutched in the other, Cullen swung the office door wide and paused before crossing the threshold.
“Is there anything else?” Dr. Mastal asked.
“Yes, and it’s important. I should speak up before I lose my nerve.”
“What is it, son?” The older man’s voice was quiet, patient.
“Can I call dibs on those bookcases in your den, the ones with the glass doors?”
“I’ll tell Ailean they’ve been spoken for.” He chuckled. “But I warn you they come with all her psychology textbooks.”
“And unless you’re donating it to the university library, can I have your resource collection, too?”
“Don’t press your luck.”
Blair pushed Cullen through the door and closed it on his heels, and Cullen was pretty sure he heard his friend throw the lock.
* * *
SARAH EASON WAS a goose in a new world. The wide halls of the university administration building had seemed exciting when she was fresh out of high school, but all these years later the arched ceilings and granite floors felt foreign and forbidding.
“I can do this,” she muttered to herself as she swept the red hair she’d inherited from her daddy out of her eyes. “I’m a thirty-nine-year-old woman, for crying out loud. I’ve survived the birth of three daughters and the death of my husband. I won’t be intimidated by an old woman who got up on the wrong side of the bed.”
Besides, there was little reason to believe the grouch who’d answered the phone in the office of admissions that morning would still be on duty all these hours later. But Sarah stiffened her spine in case there was a battle to be waged. She’d promised herself she’d register for classes today, and come hell or high water, by golly she would do it!
That is, if she could find the office.
Where on earth were they hiding room 104B? She glanced down at the directions she’d scribbled that morning while packing sandwiches and chips for the girls and a Lean Cuisine meal for herself. Maybe she’d written it down wrong. Maybe the grouch had intentionally given her bad information. Or maybe God had sent the old biddy as a sign that going back to school wasn’t such a hot idea.
“Can I help you?” a voice rumbled above her head.
Sarah raised her eyes and tipped her head up to see who’d made the kind offer. Familiar gray eyes waited for her response.
“Have we met?” she asked, unable to recall where she’d seen the lazy grin that was set in a handsome face dusted with a couple days of stubble. Dark curls poked out from beneath the Texas Rangers baseball cap that was molded to his head.
“Probably not, but I have a little brother you might know if you watch those cookin’ competitions on TV.”
She snapped her fingers and pointed in understanding. He mirrored her action.
“The Cowboy Chef,” they said in unison.
“He’s your brother?” Sarah enjoyed watching the Food Network with her girls; there was zero chance the competing chefs would take their clothes off or use filthy language on camera, so it was something they could do together.
“Hunt’s my twin actually.” The guy shifted the bulky box he was holding to one hand and extended the other. “Cullen Temple.” He offered his hand.
“Pleased to meet you, Cullen Temple. I’m Sarah Eason.” She slipped her palm into his grip. It was warm and smooth so she felt certain he didn’t cut down trees for a living, despite the plaid lumberjack shirt he sported on an afternoon in May.
“Did I hear an offer of help?” she reminded him.
“Yes, ma’am. What can I do for you?”
“I called to get directions to the office of admissions this morning and I believe a crabby old lady gave me the wrong room number.”
Cullen leaned his face toward the ceiling and laughed out loud, displaying white, even teeth that had probably been wrangled into braces during his teen years. After a moment of enjoying her accusation he shook his head, his eyes filled with amused compassion for her experience.
“Sounds as if you’ve had your first encounter with Miss Nancy Norment, lovingly known as the University Torment. Her job for more than fifty years has been to scare off fainthearted freshmen before they waste their parents’ tuition money.”
“Well, she deserves high marks for her efforts. If I wasn’t so determined to pick up registration forms today, I might have climbed back into bed and pulled the covers over my head after I spoke with her.”
“Oh, Miss Norment means well and she’s probably saved families millions over the course of her career. You’ll know her when you run across her.”
“Does she pull her hair into a bun and wear Granny Clampett boots?”
“In a new millennium sorta way. You’ll see,” he teased.
“If you’d be kind enough to point me in the right direction, I’ll take my chances.”
Cullen put two fingertips gently on Sarah’s shoulder and guided her toward the office that was less than three feet away.
“There’s no number on the door,” she insisted.
He pointed above the doorframe where a brass placard identified the Office of Admissions.
She closed her eyes and ducked her chin, hiding her face from the man who must believe she was an airhead.
“Another one of Miss Norment’s attempts to cull the weakest from the herd. She doesn’t bother to mention that there’s no room number, or that you have to search up high for the sign.”
“Thanks to you, her trick didn’t work today.”
He raised his wrist to check the time, and then glanced toward the door.
“It’s still early. Miss Nancy could scare off three or four more applicants before the office closes at six.”
Sarah’s eyes followed his gaze.
“You don’t think she’s still in there, do you? It’s been almost eight hours since I spoke to her.”
“She works a split shift. For years she’s had an apartment over in the village section of the campus where she also acts as a dorm adviser.”
“My goodness. She’s either very committed to the university or has no life at all.”
“A little of both. She’s as much a part of this university as the bell tower. Miss Nancy is feared and revered by one and all.”
“You have me intrigued and scared in equal parts. Maybe I should return on her day off.”
“Nonsense. There’s no time like the present.” He reached for the door, pulled it wide and swept his palm outward for her to take the lead. As she stepped across the threshold she heard him call into the office. “Miss Nancy, take care of Sarah for me, will ya? She’s a friend of mine.”
Sarah glanced behind her to see Cullen Temple smile and wave just as the door slid closed between them.
“That Temple boy has been a thorn in my side for more years than I care to count. If you’re a friend of his, then you’re either a double dose of trouble or a few fries short of a Happy Meal.”
Facing