Chapter 1
1866 Words
Chapter One
Kate
Once upon a time, there was a girl who thought she could bang her brother-in-law’s cousin and not have it come back to haunt her.
Oh wait, that was me. Katherine Lydia Wright, third sister of the Wright girls, the most brilliant, extraordinary, outstanding, and amazing of the three of us. My oldest sister, Mari, might be good at eyeliner and my other sister, Dani, might be good at buying potting soil on sale, but I was something else. You know those people who make you go: wow, she’s going to accomplish so many things?
Well, no one’s really said that about me except for my parents. They also told me I could grow up to be a honey badger when I was five. But I believed I was going to accomplish things. And isn’t that what really matters?
Anyway, here I was, pursuing my dream of becoming a genetic engineer, starting grad school at the University of Washington, when it all blew up in my face.
Basically if you think of what happens when you light a match near gasoline, that’d be an accurate representation of my life at the moment.
Here’s a scene: me, a few weeks before my grad program officially started. I was meeting with my advisor that afternoon about my classes and my research goals. My particular type of research centered around modifying genes to create a biofuel that was like gasoline—wait, do you care about this?
You want to know about the cousin thing.
Patience, my friend. I’m getting there.
So here I am, about to knock on the door of my advisor’s office. When I saw that he didn’t have a nameplate, I realized I hadn’t taken the time to look him up at all. Stupid me. I needed to do that when I got home.
I heard a muffled voice say come in, and I did. I saw a man with jet-black hair sitting at his computer, his face hidden by the wide screen.
Something in my stomach bounced. I called it my inner “uh-oh” voice, the same voice that liked to tell me that I should maybe not have put frogs in my sisters’ beds because I ended up with frogs in my bed afterward.
“Have a seat,” my advisor said. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”
I sat down. I placed my bag on my lap, but it tumbled from my grip when my advisor finally revealed his face.
Oh.
My.
Fucking.
God.
Lochlann. It was Lochlann. The man I’d had a one-night stand with three months ago. In Ireland.
Oh God, oh God, oh God. I’d had torrid s*x with my advisor. I’d lost my virginity to my advisor.
Seeing his sharp features, his jet-black hair, that sensual mouth—it all came back to me in a rush. I’d never, ever forget that night.
But based on the way he was looking at me, he’d forgotten me already.
“Ms. Wright? You dropped your bag,” he said coolly.
I looked at my bag, its contents having scattered near my feet. “Huh,” was my brilliant reply.
“Are you all right?” he said a little more gently.
I bent down and began to toss my things into my bag—my phone with its eggplant emoji case, my feather pens because they were ridiculous, my keychains with one of my favorite science pickup lines. I wish I was adenine, then I could get paired with U.
He didn’t remember me. He didn’t remember me. I felt—relieved? Offended? Had I been that boring of a lay? God, how humiliating. Here I’d been, dreaming of him all summer, and he probably hadn’t remembered my name the next morning. Even though we’d both been in my sister Mari and his cousin Liam’s wedding.
Talk about awkward.
I stuffed my hands under my butt to hide their shaking. This only made my legs shake and I almost shook myself off the chair.
“Um, I’m Kate,” I finally said, sticking out my hand. “You can call me that, too. No one calls me Miss Wright. Besides, I prefer Ms. anyway. I’m not married, although why should it matter? It’s dumb. Men are just mister, no matter what.”
I clapped my mouth shut, a hot blush staining my cheeks. Lochlann took my hand in his firm grip, and f**k me if I didn’t have a mini-o****m right then.
“Dr. Gallagher, nice to meet you.” He sat back in his chair and sifted through the small handful of papers currently sitting on his desk. “I apologize for the mess. I was only recently given this office, but the previous occupant took all of the file cabinets and folders.”
He put on a pair of reading glasses, which only seemed to emphasize his handsomeness. I also had to bite back an awkward giggle, because who called four pieces of a paper a “mess”?
But no, who cared about papers. More importantly, how had I not known that Liam’s cousin was a professor in my field? Or that he was living and working in Seattle now? When I’d asked Mari about Lochlann back in June, she’d said he worked in Dublin doing something “nerdy.”
Thanks a lot, Mari, I thought wryly.
“Oh, yes, I remember now. You’re researching biofuels, which would make perfect sense as that is also my area of research.”
My ears perked despite the situation. Talk nerdy to me, Lochlann, I thought with a shiver. And in that Irish accent? Swoon. He was going to have to mop me up after this, because I was already melting into a swooning-girl puddle.
“Your schedule looks good, although I’d encourage you to take more outside your specific field,” said Lochlann—no, Dr. Gallagher, I had to think of him as that from now. He was my advisor.
“I didn’t want to overload my schedule with too many different types of classes, I guess.”
Dr. Gallagher took off his reading glasses, and I almost sighed. “I’d like you to expand beyond your specific interests. It’d also look good if you plan to apply for an internship over the summer.”
“I’ll consider it.”
“Excellent.” He leaned back in his office chair, cool as an Irish cucumber. Or an Irish potato—except he was hot, so he was a very hot potato—
“Miss Wright, did you hear me?”
Me being me, I blurted, “Nope. Not one word.”
Most people would’ve smiled, or rolled their eyes and huff-laughed. I tend to get people to do that, even when they find me annoying. It’s a gift.
Apparently Dr. Gallagher was immune to me. Except in the s*x department, or the memory department.
“Please pay attention,” he said. “I don’t have time to repeat myself.”
“You seem very busy.” I glanced at the four pieces of paper on his desk with a raised eyebrow. Okay, maybe I’d miscounted: there looked to be all of five documents. Damn, this guy sure was slammed with work.
Again, he didn’t react. Was he made of stone? What had happened to the charmer who’d charmed my panties right off of me three months ago? Maybe Dr. Gallagher was impersonating his secret twin brother and the man sitting before me was, in fact, someone else.
Except when I looked at his wrist, I saw that scar, about two inches long, that I’d asked him about. Get in a fight with a rosebush? I’d joked.
Worse, he’d said wryly. A very angry and overheated container of fuel.
Right then, he saw me looking at the scar and moved his hands so I could no longer see it.
His gaze then flicked over me, and if I weren’t imagining things I almost could’ve thought he did recognize me. It wasn’t like we’d f****d without ever turning on the lights. I’d gotten a good look at him—head, chest, d**k, legs. Ass, or arse, as he called it. And he’d done the same for me (except for looking at my d**k, obviously).
But that gaze flicker of his disappeared so quickly I wondered if I’d imagined it. Was I hoping for something that wasn’t there?
Does it matter? He’s your advisor. Like this can go anywhere. Don’t be totally stupid, Kate. Or even stupider than you’ve already been.
To be slightly fair, I didn’t know he’d end up being my advisor.
The combination of being miffed and irritated with his arrogance made the reckless side of me come out to play. Which meant that the uh-oh voice rang alarm bells in my head. It jumped up and down. It said, Kate, don’t do it. Don’t do the thing.
“I most definitely don’t have time for cheeky grad students,” he said, steepling his fingers.
“Didn’t you see that bit on my CV? ‘Cheeky girl, can be bribed with snacks.’” Sitting up straighter, I added, “Speaking of running out of time—I’m meeting someone, so I can’t stay much longer. My boyfriend, actually. He doesn’t like when I keep him waiting.”
Lochlann turned back to his computer. I hadn’t imagined that heated look he’d given me. He recognized me, the d**k.
Kate, he can’t exactly bring it up. Come on.
He doesn’t have to act like he doesn’t know me, I countered.
“If you have any more questions, please email me,” said Lochlann.
I was dismissed.
You know that feeling you get when you’re so pissed your brain goes dark and words are suddenly just coming out of your mouth?
“My boyfriend, his name is Steve. He’s a grad student, too. He’s really smart. Like, he could win a Nobel Prize smart.”
“Fascinating,” said Lochlann. “Is he in the materials program as well?”
“No, he studies—” I struggled to think of a suitably cool and amazing thing to study that would make Lochlann jealous. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the keychain I’d bought at the zoo a year ago: a wind-up flamingo that flapped its wings. “The mating habits of native Washington flamingos.”
At that, Lochlann finally looked at me. “Flamingos? I wasn’t aware they were native to the Pacific Northwest.”
“Oh, there’s a huge population in Forks,” I said, naming the town made famous by the Twilight franchise. “They’re everywhere. A real nuisance. They’re basically like geese except they’re pink. Super aggressive. Never approach a flamingo from behind.”
“Fascinating,” drawled Lochlann.
“But Steve—my boyfriend—he also plays football. He’s so good at it. He works out every day and he can hit the ball so far. It’s amazing.” I knew I was digging my hole deeper, but my mouth just kept moving despite the uh-oh voice screaming in my mind to stop.
“Really? What position does he play?”
Shit. I didn’t know anything about football because it had always seemed boring and stupid to me.
“You probably wouldn’t know, since I’m talking about American football,” I said breezily.
“I’m aware, Miss Wright. What position?”
Sweat dripped down my spine. I couldn’t think of one position besides the one that came tumbling out: “The ball toucher.”
“The ball toucher,” repeated Lochlann, skepticism lacing his voice.
“Touching balls—it’s very important.”
Was that a bit of a smile on his lips, or was Lochlann just twitchy? “I can’t say that I disagree with that statement.”
Okay, I needed to get the hell out of here. Grabbing my things, I said hurriedly, “I’ll call you. No, email. I don’t have your phone number. Why would I have your phone number?” I laughed, but it came out as a croak.
“Have a lovely rest of your day, Miss Wright. Be sure not to get into any fights with a flamingo.”
Oh my God, I’m so f****d.
- Writer
