Every Sweet Regret (Orchid Valley 2)

“Stella,” he says, smiling at me. “What are you doing here?”

“Same thing as you, Charlie.” I nod to the open notebook in front of him. “Taking a chemistry class.”

He taps his notebook and shakes his head. When he speaks again, it’s in a low, conspiratorial tone. “I told my kids I’m too old to be doing this, but they said I might as well. Always wanted to go back to school, and I’m gonna be old whether I do it or not.”

I slide into the seat next to him. “I was kind of figuring the same thing.”

“Does Brinley know you’re here?” Brinley’s not only my lifelong best friend, but she owns The Orchid, where I’m a receptionist, and is therefore also my boss.

“She does, and she approves. I’ve already trained my replacement, and I promise she’ll take good care of you.”

He shakes his head. “Nah. Nobody can take care of me as well as you do. Always made sure to get me scheduled before my favorite massage therapist booked up. It won’t be the same there without your smiling face.”

“Well, I’ll still be there on weekends and some evenings, so no worries.”

He pats my arm. “Then I’ll keep coming back.”

“Good morning, everyone. I’m Professor Burns, and I’ll be your chemistry instructor this term.”

Our attention shifts to the front of the room and the man standing at the dry-erase board. My heart skids to a stop at the sight of him. Anderson. He wasn’t a fellow student but a teacher.

His gaze lands on me, and the shock that rolls across his expression tells me he’s as surprised to see me as his student as I am to see him as my teacher. Fuck.

He clears his throat and looks away, schooling his expression as he takes in the rest of the class. “This is Chem 101, and I hope you’re ready to work, because this is a condensed term, meaning we’ll be doing in six weeks what I normally teach in sixteen.” He picks up a stack of papers from the corner of his desk and proceeds to pass them out. I sink down into my chair, willing myself to become invisible as he goes over the course requirements.

By the time class is over, my brain has shifted gears and instead of panicking about having a date with my professor, I’m spiraling into panic about the course requirements and how much we’ll be covering this six weeks. I might be more mature than I was in high school chem, but the concepts still make my head spin.

“This should be fun,” Charlie says when Anderson—no, make that Mr. Burns—dismisses us. “I always loved chemistry. It was my favorite in college.”

I force a smile and hoist my bag onto my shoulder. “Maybe you can be my lab partner and teach me your tricks.”

“Ms. Jacob,” Mr. Burns says. “Could I see you before you leave, please?”

Charlie waggles his salt-and-pepper brows. “Uh-oh. In trouble already?”

I snort. He has no idea. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Charlie.”

He winks and heads out behind the other students.

Once everyone else is gone, I approach Mr. Burns’ desk. “I’m sorry,” I blurt at the same time as he says, “I owe you an apology.”

We laugh, and he sighs, holding up a hand. “When we talked outside, I thought you were an instructor.”

“And I thought you were a student,” I say.

He runs a hand through his hair. “So you understand why I need to cancel our coffee”—he clears his throat, clearly unwilling to say the word date—“why I need to cancel our plans.”

“Oh my God. Yes. Of course!”

“It’s just that you’re a student, and I . . .” He shakes his head, and his gaze briefly skims over my body before he brings it back up to meet mine. “I really am sorry.”

“We both made assumptions.”

He makes a face that seems to say, Did we, though? “I mean, I asked what department you worked for.”

I frown. That’s not the way I remember it, but what did he say exactly? “I guess I misunderstood.”

Something about his expression makes me feel like a child who’s just broken the rules and is trying to talk her way out of it. “Let’s just not misunderstand anymore. Okay? Because I don’t . . . I’m not interested in spending time outside the classroom with a student.”

Yowch. Okay, I get it. “Understood.” I back toward the door. “See you tomorrow.”

God, it’s going to be a long six weeks.* * *My day consisted of accidentally flirting with my chem professor, barely avoiding a panic attack in anatomy and physiology, a shift at The Orchid, and a futile search for a place to live. By the time I get home, I’m beat.

I still haven’t talked to Mom about the available condo at Lakeview Acres, and I know she won’t bring it up if I don’t confront her. In fact, I know she won’t move if I don’t move first. I hope to avoid the conversation entirely until I can tell her I’ve found an affordable place to stay.