And now, allow me to introduce you to a certain Limey Bastard
I dig a couple of my binders out of the bottom drawer of the
filing cabinet where I’d stored some important documents for the summer so the
cleaning crew wouldn’t accidentally misplace anything. When I find what I’m
looking for, I straighten, catching my elbow on the metal frame of the
whiteboard behind my desk. “Shit.” As my fingers tingle, the binders clap against the
floor. “Need a hand?” I spin at the sound of a British accent and freeze in place.
I was right, the image on Oxford’s website did not do him justice. He’s taller
than I imagined, long and lean, standing head and shoulders above me with
captivating azure blue eyes. His dark hair is neatly trimmed, and a thin beard
highlights his angular jaw. Nothing could have prepared me for the sight of him
walking around my desk, kneeling in front of me, and handing me the binders. “Thank you,” I manage to speak without stuttering. How long had he been there? “I’m Dr. Greyson Bedford, and you must be Dr. Schwartz.” “Kenna,” I say, sliding the binders across my desk and
offering my hand. As soon as his hand closes around mine, I lose my place. Are
my fingers that cold? His palm feels
sweltering against mine. “If you prefer to use titles, Dr. Kenna is preferred.”
“Got it. I prefer Greyson. I hear you’re the resident expert
on the journals.” Don’t blush. You’re
far too damn pale for that. Stop staring at his smile and say something.
“Well, as much of an expert as there is, I guess.” He snorts. “Take credit where you can get it, Kenna. Don’t
sell yourself short.” I’m working on that. “I
started working with the journals while doing my thesis and moved over two
years ago to transcribe and study them for my dissertation.” “I look forward to hearing all about them.” He flashes a wry
grin, taking me aback. “Have you had a chance to look around the campus and meet
everyone yet?” I go with the next question that comes to mind, hoping to avoid
the unpleasant silence which would lead to more gawking on my part. “I met with Dr. Bindas this morning. He showed me around and
introduced me to a few of the professors over there, and Xavier Nash stopped by
for a few minutes.” I swallow. “How’d that go?” “A bit smarmy, isn’t he?” Greyson leans against the windowsill,
crossing his ankles and gripping the edge with his long fingers. I try not to get caught up on the way those jeans hug his
thighs. And other things. “Not entirely sure what that means, but it sounds
accurate.” “You’re a fan of the Bod?” Saliva pools in my mouth and catches in my throat when I try
to swallow. “What?” “The Bodleian.” He points to the framed picture on the wall
above the whiteboard. I picked it up three years ago, as a reminder and a way
to motivate myself to get through the hard days.
Right, dumbass. “I guess it’s my unicorn library.”
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