CHAPTER TWO

      THE AUBURN-HAIRED beauty was sitting alone in the student center with her back to the wall and her face just a few inches above the paperwork spread across the table. Over the years Cullen had come to recognize that posture as the sign of someone who expected they wouldn’t fit in, who believed they didn’t belong.

      He wondered why on earth the lovely woman he’d met earlier in the administration building might be insecure. But then sending a child off to college could be a very unsettling period of life. Though they’d only spoken for a few minutes, Cullen had learned that her name was Sarah and she had daughters.

      She’d seemed too bright to fall into the helicopter-parent trap, always hovering overhead and ready to swoop down and save the day. Still, this wouldn’t be the first time a smart adult did all the paperwork to ensure their completely capable kid had no excuse for not showing up on the first day of class.

      As Cullen passed through the beverage line he was jostled intentionally by several upper-classmen who smiled and greeted him. Those with unfamiliar faces ignored Cullen, leaving him to presume they were freshmen.

      The kids who attended the summer semester were made up of two groups: those who were getting ahead and those who were catching up. As he moved toward the woman alone at her table he wondered whether her daughter would be at the top or the bottom of the freshman class.

      “Forgive me for guessing instead of asking if you take your coffee black, but you seem more of a ‘decaf with cream and sugar’ lady to me,” Cullen explained as he placed two mugs of coffee on the table. The blue eyes that met his opened wide with surprise and then squinted in good-humored gratitude.

      “Make that sugar substitute and you’re right on the money.” She swept an area clear of paperwork to give him room to share the table.

      Cullen dumped the contents of the small sack he’d also been carrying into the empty spot. Servings of flavored creamer and packets of sweetener rolled and fluttered about.

      “Take your pick. Yellow, pink or blue.”

      “You’re not just a pretty face, no matter what Miss Norment says about you,” Sarah teased as she reached for a single serving container of French vanilla creamer.

      “Miss Nancy calls me a number of things but I’d lay odds that pretty face isn’t on the list.”

      “She did mutter something about you being the dullest knife in the butcher block.”

      “That sounds about right.” He tore open three packets of brown sugar and dumped the crystals into his mug. “She’s never taken much of a shine to me, even though I’m in there several times a week to see the dean.”

      “You get called in to see the dean that frequently, huh?”

      “Occasionally he calls me, but just as often it’s the other way around. We play racquetball, then grab some lunch.”

      “That’s a novel way to keep an eye on your child’s progress at school.” She bobbed her head as if she approved.

      “My child?”

      “Sorry, I meant your son or daughter. I forget that young people want to be considered adults, not children. My Carrie certainly does.”

      “I don’t have any children.” He held up his hand to show her that there was no wedding ring on his finger, not that the age-old symbol of commitment meant much to some people these days. “Not even married.”

      Cullen noted that her ring finger was bare but she fiddled with a gold band on her right thumb.

      “So you hang around here because...” She waited for him to finish. Surely the lady didn’t believe he was trolling for dates among the students?

      “I hang around here because I’m getting an education.” She continued to stare so he elaborated. “Actually, I’ve gotten several educations since I first enrolled right out of high school. I don’t have plans to leave anytime soon, even though Miss Nancy has tried to kick me out into the real world on more occasions than you can shake a stick at. My brothers call me a professional student, and at this point it’s useless for me to deny it.”

      “So you’re a student and not a parent? That’s cool,” she said. Her smile and the tilt of her head said she was interested in his story.

      “Finally!” He exaggerated the word. “Somebody who appreciates the idea that higher education isn’t just what kids do while they wait for the best job or the right mate to come along.”

      “I’d enjoy hearing more, but I’ve got to finish completing these forms and get over to our apartment before the girls get home.”

      “Do you need any help? I know my way around a class registration fairly well by now. What is your daughter interested in studying? The curriculum is a bit limited during the summer sessions.”

      Sarah’s smile was back. She relaxed against the folding chair and dropped her pencil on the form.

      “I suppose I had that coming.”

      “What?” Cullen was confused.

      “My oldest daughter is only thirteen and the primary subject that interests her is the ever threatening world of zombies and vampires.”

      Embarrassment warmed Cullen’s neck. Assuming a woman was old enough to have a kid in college was up there with assuming a lady’s rounded figure meant she was pregnant.

      “I’m sorry.” He struggled to apologize. “I didn’t mean to insinuate you were old. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with being old, you’re just not that old.”

      She held a palm outward to stop the flow of words.

      “I’m not insulted. Really, I’m not. I made the same assumption about you. What do you say we call it even?”

      “It’s a deal.” Cullen extended his hand and he was very grateful when she accepted his shake and his apology.

      * * *

      SARAH CAUGHT THE gleam in Cullen’s eye and the spark in his touch. For the first time in the three years since Joe’s death, physical contact with a man had made her insides quiver. She’d figured that magical sensation was gone forever.

      “So, whose application are you filling out, if I may be bold enough to ask?” He tucked his chin to his chest in a gun-shy but teasing posture.

      It’s for me,” Sarah answered softly, still afraid to admit it out loud.

      “Beg pardon?”

      “Me!” she insisted more boldly. “The application is for me.”

      He stared at her with eyes the color of wet slate. The man was a ringer for that famous British soccer player who’d moved with his Spice Girl wife from London to Beverly Hills. Sarah’s seven-year-old could probably recite their names, but there was zero allowance for pop culture in a single mother’s life. Bearing the load alone was heavy, but not more than she could manage.

      During the last moments of her husband’s battle with leukemia, she’d held Joe in her arms and encouraged him to let go of this life, promising him that their girls would be okay. And that was mostly true. Today Carrie, Meg and Hope had what they needed, they just didn’t have who they needed. And now Sarah was going to spend more hours away from them to finish the degree that had once meant so much to her. Some people would say her plan was selfish, but her employer had offered to pay the tuition—how