The Mind (The Reluctant Romantics #1.5) (2 page)

I could make some excuse and go nod off for a few hours.

As I straightened in my seat to do just that, I looked to the right of me as light broke through the heavy clouds and a blinding ray of Texas sunlight lit up the campus grounds. As my eyes adjusted to the intrusion, I noticed a fair-skinned redhead sitting under a tree, deep in thought.

It was an awareness I had only felt once in my life, and I recalled it all too well: Sharon Dunn, freshman year, a perfect little blonde haired, doe-eyed beauty. I knew the first time I saw her I had to make her mine. Even after she ripped my heart out and fell in love with my best friend, Garrett, I knew there would always be something special about her, even if she belonged to someone else. No, this awareness was like a brick to the head.

Scrutinizing her through the windshield, I watched her scratch her leg with her bare foot as she bit her lip in concentration while scribbling in a small notebook. Suddenly, every single piece of me was awake and hyper-focused on the woman who was now gathering her books. I remained motionless as I watched her stand then slide on her shoes. From root to tip, she was absolutely perfect, and I couldn’t help but to lean forward to drink her in. More and more awareness crept over me as I watched her battle the wind for a few scattered pieces of paper that had fallen out of her binder. Giving up on the last piece and letting it fly through the air freely, she finally composed herself and began walking towards the same building I was supposed to be headed towards. As if graced by some gift, she paused in front of my truck, pulling something out of her bag then fastening it around her wrist. She looked briefly my way but didn’t see me watching her before she hurried again in the direction of the other students. I strained to watch her go, realizing my hand was already on the handle when that last piece of paper she’d missed flew up and folded around the antenna of my truck. Watching the forgotten paper flapping in the wind like a neon sign, I paused briefly before I jumped out, chest on fire as I snatched it like the precious breadcrumb it was. I read the simple words scribbled all over it and smiled before I tucked it into my pocket. I followed closely behind her as everything in me repeated in overdrive:
Go get her
.

I held my bag close to my chest as I walked into the crowded, stadium style classroom filled with one hundred and sixty plus students. Running my hands through my hair, I attempted to tame my mess of curls into something acceptable. Taking the first seat available, I quickly decided to give up on my hair and used the tie around my wrist to secure it in to a bundle on top of my head. For three and a half years, I had patiently waited for Dr. McGuire’s class, and today was orientation. He would be prepping us throughout lecture, but only a select few of us would be under his watchful eye during clinical rotations. I opened my bag to grab a pen and it was immediately shoved away by the person sitting next to me.

“That seat’s taken.”

“Really?” I snapped sarcastically, fire burning in my cheeks.

“Yeah, really.” The girl confronting me had a gorgeous face, complete with large blue eyes and devastatingly beautiful, long brown hair, as if that wasn’t a bigger kick in the teeth. She was rude and beautiful, and I found it disgusting.

“I’ll move.” I had no time for petty shit, and I refused to let the bad vibes of one rude girl ruin my day. I stood then turned to enter the stairway leading to the next row and smacked right into who I supposed she was waiting for. I apologized, backed away then my gaze landed on his mouth. A full–lipped, broad grin led up to dark blue eyes that stole the air from my lungs. I had no choice but to smile back, but not before making a snide comment about his companion.

“She’s
all
yours.”

I pushed past him to take a seat on the other side of the stairs. When I looked back, he was still grinning at me as he took his seat. I made sure to memorize what I could because I wasn’t looking back again. His dark, silky brown hair seemed to be all one length and it flowed freely around his ears.

More perfect hair
.

I hated my wavy red hair. It wasn’t the disgusting Opie-red display that some other poor redheads had to sport, freckles and all. Thankfully, I had none. However, true to ginger style, my skin was a pale white and my eyes were the same jade green as my father’s. I had my mother’s features: full lips, strong nose, and a heart-shaped face. As far as redheads went, I got the best of it, though I still hated my hair. Mr. and Mrs. Perfect Hair irritated me immediately, but I quickly dismissed them both when the professor appeared.

Dr. McGuire exuded the hell-on-earth demeanor I’d heard about over the years. He wasted no time telling us we were useless, that we had no chance, and all hope would be lost by the time the semester ended. I found it laughable he deemed it appropriate considering most of us only had a semester remaining before we graduated. Some of the students were already knee-deep in their specialty and had semi-smooth sailing from here on out, aside from passing the fourth-year boards. The other med students lucky enough to be under clinical rotation with Dr. McGuire for the rest of the semester had chosen the hard road, but it came with a perk. He was one of the best general surgeons in the country. I was going to ace this round. He offered only one spot per year to a promising surgeon for residency. If chosen, the new doctor was put through a rigorous interview. If they didn’t make the cut, he would wait for a group of fresh students. It was a one-shot deal, and I intended to take mine. It wasn’t even a question. I smiled at the good doctor, as if to say “bring it.” By the time he had tried his best to discourage the class, I couldn’t help but grin smugly at the intimidated faces around me that were twisted in pain. It wasn’t that I was overly confident; it was that I knew I was close to doing what I was born to do.

Careful, Rose, remember what Mom says about karma kicking your ass.

And what Dad says
: “
There’s nothing wrong with being a little smug. Confidence is vital.”

I had no idea how they had managed to raise me without some sort of personality disorder or complex. My parents were so different, yet still madly in love. When I started school, I’d decided that love could wait. Well, after my one and only boyfriend threw me away for someone that looked more like the girl I’d taken a seat next to. I envied girls like that, so well put together at all times: the right clothes, the right shoes, perfect hair and skin tone, no matter the weather. I, however, was a hot mess and had been since I was a kid. Growing up, I had absolutely no interest in playing Barbie’s with my sister when I could be swinging from trees. When we were younger, Dallas used to come in from playing to show our parents she hadn’t gotten her clothes dirty, while I, to my mother’s absolute horror, brought in anything that crawled or hopped. As I watched the girl next to me play with her perfectly painted nails, I swore to myself that one day I would make time for things like that. I would become a better, more alluring version of myself.

Yeah, right.

School came first, love would have to wait, and my father agreed wholeheartedly. My mother, on the other hand, had told me “
The whole world would not make a damn bit of sense until I fell in love.”
I’d already tried that and had barely made it out alive. My parents were a pair of romantics. While I did subscribe to their brand of thought, right now was not the time.

Curiosity got the best of me and I turned to my left, although I had sworn to myself I wouldn’t, and felt the prick of a tingle start from my scalp then down my back as I found his eyes on me. Turning my attention back to the lecture, I cursed my stupid curiosity. Why was he still looking at me?

When we were dismissed, I stood up to make my way to my apartment to read what I could to prep for my next lab, but was stopped short at the door by the same man that had already taken up too much of my imagination. I pushed past him for the second time but was stopped in the corridor when he addressed me.

“You.” It was a statement from him, not a question.

I turned to look at him, utterly confused. “Me?”

I noticed his girlfriend eyeing our exchange as she continued to talk to her friends.

“What’s your name?”

“Rose.”

“Rose,” he mimicked, his eyes still intent on mine. He stood with his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he continued to stare. I finally broke our gaze. He smiled at the ground for a moment then looked at me again. “Okay.” His smile was breathtaking. It was boyishly handsome on a face that screamed all man. I was supposed to be doing something. What was I doing? He had my full attention. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. He was quite a bit taller than I was and had a broad chest that was torturing his pale blue t-shirt. He didn’t belong in my class. He didn’t belong in this school, and it was too easy to tell. He had a deep tan and looked to be a bit of a roughneck. We stared at each other for a full minute as I tried desperately to take all of him in, but he had too much body for me to compartmentalize. Between the bulges in his arms, his broad chest, and an ass I was straining to get a glimpse of, I concluded he looked like
Tarzan
in modern day clothing. If I kept my appraisal of him going on any longer, I felt I would start spouting off things like: “
You Tarzan, me Jane, and me want to swing.”

“Okay, Rose,” he said, interrupting my inner dialogue and daydream. Damn him! We were
almost
happy living in the trees. It was obvious he had something on his mind.

“Is there a conversation I’m having with you that I don’t know about?” I asked in a hushed tone.

“Yes, Rose, there is.” I was graced with another smile—
oh, God, a dimple—
then, “I’ll see you around.”

“Well...who are you?”

He looked back at me with a confidence I’d only seen a few men carry, namely my father. “I’m the man that’s going to marry you.”

I snorted, quite unattractively, as my reply. Then he caught my gaze again, imploring me to believe him.

“I’m the man that
you
are going to marry.” I couldn’t stop myself. My jaw dropped. I didn’t even know this crazy man’s name and we were getting married? The sincerity in his face, the look in his eyes, was serious.

“Okay...so what’s your name, husband to be?”

“Grant.” Hmph, I preferred
Tarzan
.

“Can’t wait, Grant. When’s the big day?”

He ran his hand through his beautiful hair, gave me one more thorough once over then winked before walking away.

Well, that wasn’t weird. No, not at all.

As I walked towards safety, I rubbed my upper arms, trying desperately to shake off the spell I’d just been put under. What a lunatic. What a totally...lickable lunatic.

****

Still slightly dazed from the oddest conversation I’d ever had, I felt my stomach growl and decided to forgo my apartment to join my roommate, Jennifer, at The Bistro. The Bistro was a local dive and a campus favorite. When I spotted Jen, I took a seat in the chair next to her. Her long copper hair was tied into a perfect, sleek ponytail and her glasses rested on the tip of her nose. As far as bookworms went, I thought I was in competition for being the biggest...until I met Jen. She was my only close girlfriend at school. We’d hit it off right away our first day of med school four years ago. She reminded me of my sister with her bold personality and confident demeanor. Although we didn’t see eye to eye on most things, we had a fantastic friendship. She was more a fly by the seat of her pants girl while I remained—to her—annoyingly disciplined. I would miss her terribly when we parted ways after graduation. She would be moving to California to marry her long-time beau, Alex, and I would be staying in Texas, hopefully starting my residency with McGuire.

“I met the man that’s going to marry me today. He told me so,” I said, interrupting her reading as I forked a bite of my salad.

“Really,” she replied with amusement, her eyes not leaving the pages. “Is he hot?”

“Hotter than hell, and I’ve never seen him before today. There is no way he’s a student.”

“Trolling weirdo, huh?” she said, her nose still in her book.

“Must be. But I will tell you right now, he seemed serious. It was the first time in a long time I wanted to do something extracurricular.”

“Uh, Rose,” Jennifer said, putting her book down to eye me.

“Sweet Jesus, he had long dark hair, but not greasy or gross, and not too long, either.... Ew, I’d hate that. His eyes—dear God—and that mouth...I could spend hours on the anatomy of that mouth. His fucking arms—”

“Rose!” Jen, who was now laughing, gave me a nod.

“He’s behind me, isn’t he?”

“I’m not a piece of meat, you know.” I heard him chuckle and felt my stomach revolt against me. I turned to find him smiling at me, again. I took in a long breath at the sight of him but swiftly recovered.

“Well, that’s twice in one day, future husband. I’m honored. Can I help you?”

“Not yet.” I felt my cheeks heat, but was never one to shy away, especially from fun. I sensed the renewed electricity race through me from our earlier meeting, until Ms. Perfect hair approached us. I was instantly jealous. Why? I had no idea.