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Someone is still talking to him, but I watch his mouth form the words, “Excuse me.”
And then he strides across the room toward me.
I give him a quick hug—nothing inappropriate for public consumption, and I say quietly in his ear, “That was incredible, Linc.”
He pulls back, and he looks a little dazed at my words as he draws in a sharp breath.
The look on his face reminds me that it’s the exact phrasing I used after the first time we had sex.
I’ll take things that can be said after sex and after a commencement address for two hundred.
“We need to talk,” he murmurs. His eyes are hot on mine, and if we keep looking at each other like this, it will become inappropriate for public consumption.
“I know.” I swallow thickly as I realize how much we need this.
“I’ve got a luncheon and then drinks with some old friends. But tonight…we talk.”
I nod even though part of me was thinking about heading home a little early to check on Jonah. He’s fine, though—in his words, anyway—and this will give me the entire afternoon to write up a story to send to Marcus. “Go. Enjoy your afternoon.”
He nods, but his gaze doesn’t leave mine until someone is tugging at him to get his attention. I finally turn to leave, and I run back into William Webb, an old acquaintance who used to be a teacher’s assistant at UNLV and happens to work here at Ohio State as a journalism professor now. We caught up for a few minutes before the ceremony, and now here he is afterward, too.
“Are you free this afternoon?” he asks.
I nod. “I’ve got a story to write up, but I don’t have any lunch plans.”
“I’d love to chat about your career. I’ve been admiring you for years and I couldn’t have been more thrilled when I saw you snagged the correspondent position. Well deserved, Jolene.”
I try not to blush. “Thank you, Mr. Webb.”
“Please. It’s Will, though I’m impressed you remember my name.” He reaches over to touch my arm good-naturedly…and a little playfully, too, with a touch of flirtation.
“Likewise.” I offer a small giggle. The truth is I always had a tiny bit of a crush on Will Webb. I never acted on it—he was basically a teacher, four years older than me and a graduate student, but I always thought he was that rare combination of attractive and nice.
I head with Will toward the exit, but not before casing a backward glance toward where I last saw Lincoln standing.
And there he stands, gazing after us, his jaw clenched and his eyes full of fire.
A man and a woman can go out to lunch together without it meaning anything, but clearly Coach Nash disagrees with that sentiment.
I reach over and touch Will’s elbow—just a light touch, but enough to make the man gazing after us go absolutely postal.
Will glances over at me and smiles, and I ask, “Where would you like to go eat?”
“There’s a great sandwich shop a few blocks away,” he says.
“Won’t it be packed with everyone leaving the graduation at the same time?”
“Most certainly, but I know the owners. Come on.” He leads me out of a private exit and we hurry down the sidewalk to beat some of the crowd still exiting the stadium. Some students are outside taking photos while others are still inside, and when we arrive at the sandwich shop, there’s only a small line.
“William!” An older woman behind the counter offers a wide smile and waves him over, and we cut around the line to get to her. She grabs him into an enormous hug.
“Hey, Mom,” he says a little sheepishly, and I can’t help a heartwarming smile.
“This is your mom?” I ask.
“I am. And you are?”
“My name is Jolene. Will and I used to attend UNLV together. He was in the graduate program when I was an undergrad,” I tell her.
