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“We sat next to each other in Geography.”
Really? I would have remembered sitting next to a man that looked this good. I wracked my brain, struggling to remember. I’d messed about in school. Sean had always convinced me to bunk off and hang out in his bedroom. What a waste of time.
The back of my neck warmed with guilt over not remembering him. I slapped my palm against my forehead. “Reece Forster? Geography, right? Yeah. I do remember.”
“It’s fine. I don’t expect you to remember. You were popular and I was… quiet.”
“It looks like you’ve done well. Doctor Forster, huh? You must have been listening in class more than me. You went to university?”
His shiny brogues tapped on the stairs as he followed me up to the next floor. “Cambridge.”
I quirked a brow. “No shit. Well, look at you. Very fancy.”
A faint smile crossed his full lips, but he stayed silent for the rest of the journey along the second-floor corridor full of offices. A gold plaque gleamed on the last door in the row.
Dr. Reece Forster.
Psychologist.
He slipped a key from his blazer and unlocked the door. A huge walnut desk dominated the large office. Bookcases teemed with neat rows of heavy tomes. He inclined his head toward the open door. “Do you have time to talk? I’d love to brainstorm about future group sessions…”
There was a tentative edge to his voice. He pressed his lips together; his eyes locked with mine from behind his scholarly glasses. How had I sat next to this hot-as-hell guy at school and not noticed? A strange tingling lit the pit of my stomach. I scuffed the tip of my trainer on the floor. “I should really be hitting the gym.”
“Of course. You must be busy. I don’t want to keep you.”
His intense, keenly observant eyes made my heart pound. “No. It’s fine. You’re not. I’m not busy. I mean I am busy, but not too busy… I can brainstorm…”
I snapped my mouth shut. I didn’t get nervous. Why was I rambling like an idiot?
His face held perfectly level. “Come in, then.”
I followed him inside and closed the door behind us. Two armchairs sat in the middle of the room facing each other. My gaze fell on the leather doctor’s couch pushed to the back wall. I couldn’t help the playful smile that pulled at my lips. “Do I get to lie on the couch?” I drifted over and smoothed a hand over the buttery leather. “This all has a very Freud ‘Tell me about your mother’ vibe.”
His tone was impassive. “Do you want to tell me about your mother?”
I hopped up to sit on the couch. “She’s a delight. A wonderful, caring woman. No deep-rooted psychological trauma.”
“That’s a shame. I live for deep-rooted psychological trauma.”
I couldn’t help my laugh. He didn’t look like he had a sense of humor, but it was there, even if it was as dry as the Sahara. Maybe Dr. Straitlace wasn’t as straitlaced as he looked.
I swung my legs over the edge of the couch, letting them dangle. “Sorry to disappoint. I’m the picture of sanity. If you’ve ever wondered what total emotional stability looks like, then look no further.”
He hovered by the window. Sunlight streamed in, making his dark hair gleam with shadows of rich chestnut. “I don’t ask my patients to lie on a couch. Gabe had this room furnished. He’s seen too many TV psychiatrists.”
I crossed the room and sat in one of the chairs in the center of the office. He lowered himself smoothly into the seat opposite. His intense gaze burned into me. He hadn’t taken his eyes off me since I’d stepped in the room. I had no doubt he was watching and analyzing me. It was unnerving, but in an odd way it gave me a little glow to be observed. To be the center of someone’s attention.
He relaxed back in the chair, his brow smooth, his slight smile bland and noncommittal. Silence swirled around us. I twisted a tendril of damp hair between my fingers. I wished I’d bothered to dry and straighten it after my shower.
I cleared my throat. “Are you sure we had Geography together? Mrs. Baxter?”
“Mrs. Butler, and yes, I’m sure.”
“Oh.” I clasped my fingers together in my lap. Reece sat still and composed. It made me intensely aware of my own fidgeting. “I bunked off a lot. I regret it now. I wish I’d knuckled down. Sean hated going to classes. Do you remember Sean? Sean Wallace. He plays for Calverdale United. He was in our year, too.”
He stared back levelly. “I remember.”
“We live together. Well… we did, before… we’re taking a break… I kicked him out, actually.”
