my twin actually.” The guy shifted the bulky box he was holding to one hand and extended the other. “Cullen Temple.” He offered his hand.
“Pleased to meet you, Cullen Temple. I’m Sarah Eason.” She slipped her palm into his grip. It was warm and smooth so she felt certain he didn’t cut down trees for a living, despite the plaid lumberjack shirt he sported on an afternoon in May.
“Did I hear an offer of help?” she reminded him.
“Yes, ma’am. What can I do for you?”
“I called to get directions to the office of admissions this morning and I believe a crabby old lady gave me the wrong room number.”
Cullen leaned his face toward the ceiling and laughed out loud, displaying white, even teeth that had probably been wrangled into braces during his teen years. After a moment of enjoying her accusation he shook his head, his eyes filled with amused compassion for her experience.
“Sounds as if you’ve had your first encounter with Miss Nancy Norment, lovingly known as the University Torment. Her job for more than fifty years has been to scare off fainthearted freshmen before they waste their parents’ tuition money.”
“Well, she deserves high marks for her efforts. If I wasn’t so determined to pick up registration forms today, I might have climbed back into bed and pulled the covers over my head after I spoke with her.”
“Oh, Miss Norment means well and she’s probably saved families millions over the course of her career. You’ll know her when you run across her.”
“Does she pull her hair into a bun and wear Granny Clampett boots?”
“In a new millennium sorta way. You’ll see,” he teased.
“If you’d be kind enough to point me in the right direction, I’ll take my chances.”
Cullen put two fingertips gently on Sarah’s shoulder and guided her toward the office that was less than three feet away.
“There’s no number on the door,” she insisted.
He pointed above the doorframe where a brass placard identified the Office of Admissions.
She closed her eyes and ducked her chin, hiding her face from the man who must believe she was an airhead.
“Another one of Miss Norment’s attempts to cull the weakest from the herd. She doesn’t bother to mention that there’s no room number, or that you have to search up high for the sign.”
“Thanks to you, her trick didn’t work today.”
He raised his wrist to check the time, and then glanced toward the door.
“It’s still early. Miss Nancy could scare off three or four more applicants before the office closes at six.”
Sarah’s eyes followed his gaze.
“You don’t think she’s still in there, do you? It’s been almost eight hours since I spoke to her.”
“She works a split shift. For years she’s had an apartment over in the village section of the campus where she also acts as a dorm adviser.”
“My goodness. She’s either very committed to the university or has no life at all.”
“A little of both. She’s as much a part of this university as the bell tower. Miss Nancy is feared and revered by one and all.”
“You have me intrigued and scared in equal parts. Maybe I should return on her day off.”
“Nonsense. There’s no time like the present.” He reached for the door, pulled it wide and swept his palm outward for her to take the lead. As she stepped across the threshold she heard him call into the office. “Miss Nancy, take care of Sarah for me, will ya? She’s a friend of mine.”
Sarah glanced behind her to see Cullen Temple smile and wave just as the door slid closed between them.
“That Temple boy has been a thorn in my side for more years than I care to count. If you’re a friend of his, then you’re either a double dose of trouble or a few fries short of a Happy Meal.”
Facing the interior of the office and the source of the comment, Sarah came eyeball to eyeball with a spiky-haired senior citizen in a scrubs top, camo pants and Chuck Taylor All Stars.
“You must be Miss Nancy Norment,” Sarah said in her most charming tone.
“And you must be somebody’s mama,” the University Torment snapped. “‘Cause you’re certainly no spring chicken.”
Knowing her fortieth birthday was just around the corner, Sarah couldn’t disagree. Maybe she should have gone back to bed, after all.
THE AUBURN-HAIRED beauty was sitting alone in the student center with her back to the wall and her face just a few inches above the paperwork spread across the table. Over the years Cullen had come to recognize that posture as the sign of someone who expected they wouldn’t fit in, who believed they didn’t belong.
He wondered why on earth the lovely woman he’d met earlier in the administration building might be insecure. But then sending a child off to college could be a very unsettling period of life. Though they’d only spoken for a few minutes, Cullen had learned that her name was Sarah and she had daughters.
She’d seemed too bright to fall into the helicopter-parent trap, always hovering overhead and ready to swoop down and save the day. Still, this wouldn’t be the first time a smart adult did all the paperwork to ensure their completely capable kid had no excuse for not showing up on the first day of class.
As Cullen passed through the beverage line he was jostled intentionally by several upper-classmen who smiled and greeted him. Those with unfamiliar faces ignored Cullen, leaving him to presume they were freshmen.
The kids who attended the summer semester were made up of two groups: those who were getting ahead and those who were catching up. As he moved toward the woman alone at her table he wondered whether her daughter would be at the top or the bottom of the freshman class.
“Forgive me for guessing instead of asking if you take your coffee black, but you seem more of a ‘decaf with cream and sugar’ lady to me,” Cullen explained as he placed two mugs of coffee on the table. The blue eyes that met his opened wide with surprise and then squinted in good-humored gratitude.
“Make that sugar substitute and you’re right on the money.” She swept an area clear of paperwork to give him room to share the table.
Cullen dumped the contents of the small sack he’d also been carrying into the empty spot. Servings of flavored creamer and packets of sweetener rolled and fluttered about.
“Take your pick. Yellow, pink or blue.”
“You’re not just a pretty face, no matter what Miss Norment says about you,” Sarah teased as she reached for a single serving container of French vanilla
