I pull into the same parking spot that I left from last night and sit there trying to convince myself to call Eamon. When was the last time I called a guy? Just as I’m about to dial his number, there’s a knock on the driver’s side window. I shriek, tossing my phone into the air. The man in question is standing there peering in at me with a wicked grin on his face. I glare at him, and he holds his hands up in surrender.
I open the door and climb out of his SUV. “Oh my god, Eamon, you scared the shit out of me!”
We’re standing mere inches apart, and I have to tip my head back to look at him. The sun is behind him, encasing him in a soft morning glow. At certain angles, you can see hints of red in his dark hair and beard. And he smells so good.
“Sorry, love,” he smirks. “I won’t lie and say it wasn’t funny, but I truly am sorry for scaring you. Thought I’d save you the trouble of deciding if you were actually going to call or not.”
I take a deep breath in an attempt to steady my pounding heart. “I was going to call. That’s what I was actually getting ready to do before youscared the daylights out of me.”
His perfect mouth lifts on one side before he says, “Allow me to make it up to you? Let me buy you a coffee and breakfast this morning,”
My eyes widen in surprise.
“I have class at nine…” I say hesitantly.
He pulls his phone from his pocket and checks the time. “I don’t think you’d make it even if you left right now, I’m sorry to say. When’s your next class?”
He’s got me there. If I’m being honest, I don’t hate the idea of spending some one-on-one time with him.
“Not until one,” I tell him. “I don’t even really like my nine o’clock class.”
“What is it?”
“History with Evans.” I shudder. “I’ve put it off as long as possible. Now that I’m headed towards graduation, I figured I should probably take it.”
Eamon chuckles. “I’ll admit, Evans is truly awful, but the subject isn’t so bad, is it?”
“Yes,” I deadpan. “I hate history—at least in a classroom setting—it bores me to tears.”
“Maybe you just need a tutor,” he shrugs.
“Ha!” I laugh. “If you know of one, send them my way. Anything to help me get this class over with.”
“As it happens,” he says, “you’ve found one.”
I look at him blankly.
“I’m a history major with a secondary degree in education,” Eamon shares.
“Shut up. No, you’re not.”
A history teacher? He’s going to be a history teacher, and for some reason, I suddenly find the subject far more interesting.
“Aye. I swear it on my life.” He places a hand over his heart.
“Well, I’ll keep that in mind, then,” I say sheepishly.
I wouldn’t learn a damn thing with him as my tutor, other than how perfect his face is.
“Do. But, in the meantime, how about that coffee?” He gestures towards the coffee shop across the street.
I take a deep breath and blow it out.
Am I accepting a coffee date, and possibly tutoring, from Eamon Kennedy? I go from ogling him from across the pub to now spending more time with him in forty-eight hours than I could have ever imagined. What universe am I living in?
“Okay,” I agree, pushing my glasses up my nose. I was in such a rush this morning that I forgot my contacts.
He eyes me curiously. “Have you always worn glasses?”
