Minutes after she walked out the library, I stood staring in shock at the closed door she’d slipped through. I had great difficulty accepting she'd told me no. Didn't she know who I was? Didn't she know if I'd extended that invitation to any other girl on campus, they would have gladly let me take them out? Who the hell did she think she was, anyway?

As intrigued as I was by her, I wasn't a glutton for punishment. The next time I saw her, I would ignore her. My face reddened thinking about her refusal to grab a bite with me. Thank God nobody had witnessed that or it would be all over campus.

I walked over to the computer to log out of my Twitter account.

"Luke, this has got to be a first, seeing you in the library!"

I started to chuckle at my friend Wes who had walked in with a redhead on his arm, but the librarian shushed us. The girl on his arm had a great set of knockers and she gazed at Wes like the sun rose and set in him. If only she knew she could no sooner tame Wes than tame. a badger. It was impossible. Wes, like me, lived for the chase. At the age of twenty-two, we had no intention of being snagged by one woman. We had far more of an interesting time switching things up a bit.

"Checking my Twitter account," I answered, which was partly true anyway.

"That's what your phone's for." He grinned back at me, starting up the stairs with his arm around the redhead. "Knowing you, you were probably chasing tail."

No use either denying or confirming so I grinned at him. He allowed the girl to walk in front of him up the stairs and used his hands to carve out her body shape in the air, mimicking a thrusting motion of his pelvis. I laughed silently at his juvenile action when he winked at me then turned his attention fully to the redhead, a hand cupping her backside.

I knew exactly where they were going. On the fourth floor, there were several outdated books so it was hardly in use. It was a spot we used to charm the thong off a girl—those who wore any. From experience, there wasn't a lot a girl wouldn't do to be with a Caine. This Caine. I'd taken several girls back there between the bookshelves and, well, we hadn’t been studying.

Except for that one chick who had turned me down. My scowl returned as I left the library, the librarian giving me a disapproving look as though she knew my intention for being there wasn't about the books. Hmm, maybe I should spend less time chasing skirts and focus on my studies. But this was my final year. Final college parties. Final freedom before I would be sent to work for one of my father’s companies.

At the reminder of what awaited me after college, I badly needed a drink. I made for my car in the student parking lot, and the last person expected to see was her. I was irritated once more at the way she’d turned me down. I contemplated walking by her without so much as a word and I would have done it too if she hadn’t looked up and I saw the tears in her eyes and the frustrated look on her face.

Good God, if I had to drive a junk like that, I would be frustrated too. She stood beside the most pitiful-looking scrap of metal I’d ever seen. She had the hood up but didn’t look like she knew what was wrong or what to do. If she’d wanted my opinion, I would have told her to get rid of it and save herself the trouble, but she didn’t look like she could afford to get herself a new car.

I slowed my steps, cursing myself for interfering where it was obvious I wasn’t wanted or needed. Still, I couldn’t leave her there.

“Is everything okay?” I enquired, walking over to her car.

“Yes, everything’s fine,” she lied, turning away from me.

“It doesn’t look that way,” I refuted. “Car troubles?”

“I can manage.”

Damn, why was she so stubborn? Was it just me who prompted this response in her or was she always this prickly to people she didn’t know?

“Look, this has nothing to do with earlier,” I explained in exasperation. “I’m simply being a decent person and trying to offer you some assistance. You can take it or leave it, but it’s obvious something is wrong with your car. Do you want me to take a look at it?”

She stared at the hood of the car then lowered her head and gestured for me to examine the vehicle. I walked over to where she stood and she shuffled back as if she didn’t want to be anywhere close to me. Her actions became more and more irritating. What did she think I would do to her in the open, and in broad daylight, too?

“I don’t know what’s wrong with it,” she murmured.

I regarded her with a dubious expression. She didn’t know what was wrong? This car was a driving hazard, that was what was wrong. She had to be breaking several road code violations driving this pile of garbage around. But I didn’t tell her that. Instead, I poked around at the insides and noticed previous cheaply done repairs.

“Get in and try to start it,” I told her, still poking around. “But please resist the temptation to run me over, given your hate for me.”

“What? I don’t hate you!” she squeaked and I raised an eyebrow at her.

“That’s the vibe I get from you, though I can’t imagine why.”

“Because a girl doesn’t want to go out with you doesn’t mean she hates you,” she mumbled getting into the car. “It can simply mean she has things to do.”

“Yeah, like what?” I prodded, feeling a bit hopeful now. I’d not considered before that she couldn’t go. I just assumed she didn’t want to. Although she could be spinning me a fine tale she thought I wanted to hear because I was trying to help her out with her car.

I heard the key turn in the ignition but nothing happened. In frustration, she got out the vehicle with her bag and slammed the door shut.

“Because I have to be at work by 3:30,” she replied, worrying at her full bottom lip with her teeth. “I’ll never get there on time now.”

Her shoulders slumped in defeat. I hated seeing her this way, looking so vulnerable.

“I’ll take you,” I volunteered.

That got her attention. For the first time since I came over, she looked me fully in the face.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” she responded.

“You’re not asking me to do anything. I’m the one volunteering. Come on, I’m parked over there.”

I didn’t wait to hear what she had to say but slammed the hood of her car shut and walked toward mine which was parked several cars up from hers. I held my breath and released it only when she trotted after me.

My electric blue Camaro was one of two cars I owned. The other, the Bentley, I left back at my condo in Aspen. She stopped and I could only guess it was from seeing my car.

“Come on or you’re going to be late,” I said, opening the door for her to get in.

With a weak smile, she stepped past me and the scent of lavender wafted to my nostrils. I closed the door behind her, fixing my cock in my shorts discreetly to hide my budding arousal.

“Where am I taking you?” I asked her, backing out the parking spot and headed slowly for the main gate.

“Lulu’s,” she answered quietly.

I glanced over at her in surprise. She clutched her bag to her as if it was her life. She stared straight ahead and scrunched closer to the door toward me.

“You work at Lulu’s? Since when?”

From the corner of my eye, I saw her look at me and she scoffed. “I’ve been working there since the start of this semester.”

That shut me up fast. I didn’t remember her from Lulu’s and I ate their often with my friends. Their menu was expensive and the booths were big enough for my friends and I to fit with whichever girls we usually found to join us. I became uneasy at the thought that I hadn’t recognized her. No wonder she was pricklier than a porcupine. How the hell had she escaped my attention all this time?

“Oh.”

“I’m also in your Project Appraisal class,” she quipped.

“Yeah, I saw you today,” I admitted.

“Only today?”

I flushed, not knowing how to answer her question. I could be self-absorbed at times. I usually ignored people who didn’t have a significant effect on my life. Still, how had I overlooked her? Granted, with her mousy appearance, it would be hard to spot her when other girls were all over the place, trying to be noticed. But since I’d gotten a good look at her, something drew me to her.

“We haven’t been introduced,” I started to say before she interrupted me.

“No need to. I already know who you are. Lucas Caine. Final year student. About to fail Project Appraisal because he is either not there or not paying attention in class.”

I gave an amused laugh. “You’ve been noticing my absences from class?”

“Uh…umm,” she stuttered. “N-no. Just sometimes.”

“I guess you’re going to make me ask for your name, huh?” I commented, easing down on the gas as we got close to Lulu’s. The time on the dashboard was 3:15 and Lulu’s was five minutes away, but I didn’t want her to leave my company. Not yet when I’d just learned she had been checking me out in class.

“It’s Debra,” she stated.

“Debra Hoskins.” I said her name and liked it. It was different. Like her. Would Debra Hoskins want to go out with me when she wasn’t busy with classes, libraries, and work? Hmm. It might be too soon to ask again.

I was tempted to drive by Lulu’s and so have to double back, giving us more time to talk, for me to get to know her better. Like how she was able to afford a university like Regis but couldn’t afford a better car. I didn’t want to make her any more wary of me of me than she already was, so I drove up to the front of the restaurant to let her out.

“Well, thank you,” she said graciously, releasing her seatbelt and reaching for the door handle. “I’ve ten minutes to change and get started.”

“Debra.”

At her name, she turned, her hand still against the door handle. “What is it?”

“Give me your car keys. I’ll have a mechanic see what they can salvage.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.” I cut her off. “Come on, hand them over or you’re going to be late.”

She placed the keys reluctantly into my outstretched palm which made me smile. I would definitely be seeing her again.

“Let me have your phone number so I can call you when it’s ready.”

“Maybe I should use my own mechanic,” she said on second thought. “I can’t pay for much repair to it. I know someone who’ll do it free for favors.”

Favors? What type of favors? She didn’t mean… She wasn’t getting the keys now.

“No, I insist. Give me your number.”

“Gotta go,” she opened the door and slid out, rattling off her number. She closed the door and was running up the steps of the diner, disappearing through the glass doors.

“834-9965,” I repeated the number, searching for my phone to save it before I forgot.