Peyton stepped back. “Do you have any other questions for me?”
Darius let his arm fall to his side. He hadn’t been this confused by a woman since . . . He’d never been this confused. And why was she freezing him out after she’d kissed him back?
“You’ve answered all of my questions. Thanks.” He should leave now. He needed to clear his head. “I’d like to call you if I have any follow-up questions.”
“Of course.” She sounded relieved.
Darius collected his recorder and notebook. He threw his coat over his arm. “Thanks for your time. I’ll take a rain check on that water.”
Maybe his parting shot had been unfair, but the blush that pinkened her honey-and-chocolate-cream complexion was worth it.
Peyton followed him to her office door. “I’m glad you’re writing a tribute to Dr. Hartford. He’s done a lot for the university.”
Darius turned to her. Through her window, he could see Wishing Lake. The name of that particular body of water had always confused him. It was a pond, not a lake.
“Do you know how Wishing Lake got its name?” Where had that question come from? He was supposed to be leaving.
“Students throw pennies in the lake for good grades.” She spared a quick glance at the window behind her.
Darius shook his head. “There are better ways to invest in their education.”
“I take it that’s not how the lake got its name?” Peyton’s smile distracted him.
“According to Dr. Hartford, TFU’s founder, Clara Butler, was desperate to start a school for the freed and escaped slaves who’d helped establish Trinity Falls.” Darius nodded toward the window. “She stood by the pond and prayed for guidance and courage. And that night, she had a life-changing vision that told her what she needed to do to start the school.”
“What did she need to do?”
“Build it.”
Peyton’s arched brows knitted. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.” Darius met her gaze. “Wishing Lake isn’t about coins. It’s about faith and finding the courage to follow your dreams. But for some reason, students keep tossing pennies in the pond.”
“That’s poetic.” Peyton looked at him as though she’d never seen him before.
Darius’s eyes slid free of hers. “Dr. Hartford told me the story.”
“I don’t know Dr. Hartford well, but I’m almost positive he wouldn’t have described the lake as you did.”
She was right. No one would ever call Dr. Kenneth Hartford a poet.
The impish lights in Peyton’s caramel eyes made him want to kiss her again. Darius pivoted toward the door. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“You do the same. And thank you for the history lesson.”
“You’re welcome.”
Darius made it out of her office and down the hall. He paused at the top of the staircase that led to the building’s rear entrance. For too many years, he’d buried his emotions. It was an act of self-defense against his parents’ frequent public displays of disaffection for each other. It also protected him from the many and varied ways their thoughtless words had hurt him. After a while, he thought he’d stopped feeling.
But kissing Peyton had proven him wrong. Darius started down the steps. He could still feel. His heart had punched him in the chest. His skin had burned beneath her touch—and his manhood had swelled uncomfortably in his shorts.
What was a former robot to do with these very human feelings?
“I’m stepping down as town council president.”
CeCe Roben’s declaration shouldn’t have surprised Doreen. She’d suspected the council president had a major announcement. What else would bring her to Doreen’s home on a Monday evening? CeCe wasn’t in the habit of just dropping by. Still, Doreen was blindsided.
She cradled her cup of chai tea and stared wide-eyed at the other woman seated across from her at her mahogany dining table. “Why?”