Chapter 20

One of the reasons he had been so pissed to be woken at six in the fucking morning was that his first class didn’t start until ten—he arranged his classes around his life and not the other way around—and that had shot his schedule to shit. He’d had breakfast early, and as a result, his stomach started rumbling in the middle of a chemistry lab.

“Another good reason why you won’t be having that redneck construction worker in your bed again,” he groused to himself as he entered the faculty dining room. “Your blood sugar is probably bottoming out. Not to mention the fact that you didn’t get much sleep.”

The woman ahead of him turned to gaze at him. “Ah. Professor Weber.”

“Excuse me, Doctor Lytle. This is a private conversation,” he informed her.

“Of course.” Her lips twitched in amusement. She picked up a tray and proceeded to make her selections.