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“No.”

“Faculty?”

His mouth curves.

“No.”

I narrow my eyes.

“Do you always make people work this hard to have a conversation with you?”

“Only when I'm enjoying myself.”

Oh.

Well.

That's—

I don't know what that is.

But my stupid stomach does a little flip anyway.

I release his hand.

Finally.

Probably should have done that about thirty seconds ago.

I smooth both palms down the front of my dress.

It's purple. Dark purple, actually, with even darker purple polka dots scattered across it.

I'd thought it was cute when I put it on. Fun.

Back to School Night shouldn't require the same boring black dress pants and sensible blouse I wear to faculty meetings, so I'd chosen something that felt like me.

A little quirky.

A little flirty.

Something that made my green eyes pop against my dark brown hair.

I'd even felt pretty when I left the house.

Standing next to Grimm Palermo? I feel downright dowdy.

Because the man looks like a powerful CEO and a supermodel had a ridiculously gorgeous baby who grew up, bought a company, and fired half the board before lunch.

That suit probably costs more than my monthly mortgage payment.

Maybe two.

I tug at my skirt.

Once.

Then again.