wasn’t about to say anything.
“Short for Roxanna—Alexander the Great’s wife. The History Channel. It’s a guy thing.” She seemed very pleased with herself.
“Actually, it’s Edmond Rostand’s Roxane. His play Cyrano de Bergerac?”
Mimi frowned. “The beautiful woman who recognizes the love of the ugly but gifted poet Cyrano instead of the handsome other dude—I can’t remember his name.”
“Christian,” Vic supplied.
“Right, Christian. Of course you’d remember the details. As I recall, you were good with the facts.” Mimi shifted her bag of food again and went back to scratching Roxie’s wrinkled brow. “You know, Vic Golinski, from that story, people might get the impression that you are a romantic.”
He blushed. Dammit, blushing? “It’s more a case that I was feeling sorry for myself. I’d just been cut from my team and my future in football looked over. I needed someone or something to love me. And there’s nothing less complicated than a dog’s affection.”
“Affection’s never uncomplicated,” Mimi responded absentmindedly.
The dog leaned her head to one side, indicating she wanted more scratching in a particular place.
Mimi obliged, and Vic noticed that she’d cocked her head in the same way as the dog. She’d even closed her eyes, her own deep black-brown lashes resting on her high cheekbones. For the first time, she didn’t look brittle, like she’d crack if you touched her in just the wrong way. She looked…looked happy, secure. Loved. Pure and simple. Uncomplicated.
And then it hit Vic—why he’d insisted on Mimi meeting his dog. Unconsciously, he’d wanted to see Roxie’s reaction. To validate his own emotions.
Only, it hadn’t worked out the way he had planned at all.
Or had it? Because now more than ever, he wanted Mimi Lodge bad.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“HEY, PRESS, IT’S SO GOOD to see you.” Amara Rheinhardt jumped up from the steps in front of her dorm and rushed to envelop him in her arms. “I can’t believe how long it’s been since I’ve seen you. I’ve had a great Freshman year—except for organic chemistry. Not all of us were meant to be science gurus like some people I could mention. Anyway, chalk it up as a painful learning experience and definitely cross off med school as one of my career options.”
“I didn’t know it was one?”
She shook her head, her chin rubbing back and forth against his shoulder. “Well, maybe. But this course in Roman poets I took? What can I say? Ovid is my personal god—I don’t care what they say about Horace. I’m already determined to work on him for my J.P.” She referred to her Junior Paper, which was still a long ways off.
Press grinned at her bubbly enthusiasm.
“And working for Penelope—like you said, unbelievable. I mean, even though she was gone on sabbatical a lot the first semester, she still taught me so much about manuscripts and how to put together exhibits.”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
