Free Home Sweet Home (A Southern Comfort Novel) by Sarah Title Page B

response was not at all what he was expecting from the uptight professor. He brushed a lock of hair off her forehead. But the moment couldn’t last. Mr. Bingley was trying to snuggle between them. Jake sat up, and Grace followed, pulling at her sundress even as Mr. Bingley insinuated himself onto her lap. Lucky cat.
    “I wasn’t expecting that,” she said, not meeting his eye.
    Jake felt a moment of panic. Had he crossed a line? He thought for sure he had seen sudden desire flash through her eyes.
    “Jake.” She turned to face him, finally. “That was . . .” She fingered her lower lip absentmindedly, and he had a hard time listening to what she was saying. “That was unexpected. And nice.”
    “Nice.”
    “You didn’t think it was nice?”
    “Not the word I would have chosen,” he growled.
    “Jake,” she said, taking his hand. “I don’t do this.”
    “What? Don’t kiss men?”
    “No, I mean—”
    “Don’t kiss the help?”
    “What? No! Jake—”
    “It’s fine,” he said, and started to get up. It was fine. He didn’t even like her that much anyway.
    “Jake, listen.” She stood, too, and put a hand on his arm. Mr. Bingley tangled in his feet. “I don’t do relationships. I don’t do love. It’s just . . . it’s not something I do, okay?”
    “Love? It was just a kiss, Grace. Don’t flatter yourself.”
    Grace just stared at him, dumbstruck.
    “I should go,” he said. He practically ran to the front door, tripping over the cat. When he tried to turn the knob, it wouldn’t turn. He jiggled it, then yanked it in desperation.
    “Here,” said Grace, and she came up behind him and gently pulled the door open. “Jake—”
    “I gotta go,” he repeated, then capped his graceful exit off by tripping on the bottom stair. He didn’t turn around to see if Grace was laughing at him; he was sure she was. He just kept his head down, got in his truck, and pulled away.
     
    So they still hated each other. But the house remained optimistic. The two of them had admitted their attraction, and even though Jake had angrily stomped off the porch, the living room practically sparked with the energy they had set off. Grace had made herself vulnerable, which the house counted as progress, too. And even though she was now sitting on the floor telling the cat how strange men were, the house was hopeful. Grace and Jake were well on their way.
    No matter how much they fought it.

Chapter 9
    G race took one more look around her office in the Pembroke English Department building. Her own, real-life office. When she was teaching in California, she shared an office with two post-docs and an adjunct. She was the only full-time professor in there, but she was just an assistant professor, and it was her first year, and the department knew her because she’d just finished her PhD there, and Lou, as the head of the department, wanted to make sure it didn’t look like she got preferential treatment. There were many reasons Grace was glad to be out of that office, not the least of which was the one post-doc who refused to wear deodorant. It got pretty hot in California.
    And, of course, Lou. That turned out to be a great reason to leave.
    Here at Pembroke, Grace had a nice office in a quaint brick building with stairs that creaked. Her office—her own office—was small, but there was enough space for a desk, a floor-to-ceiling book case, and enough chairs for her and two students. The window looked out over the academic quad, and Grace looked forward to watching the seasons change. She missed seasons.
    Grace secured the tie on her wrap dress one more time, just to make sure. She was nervous. She shouldn’t be nervous. Gatherings with strangers were not her forte, but she found that she could easily relate to other professors. But the last time she’d been to a faculty party, it was a holiday gathering in California. She wore a red dress and was looking forward to meeting Lou under the mistletoe. Everyone else was