Sunshine In The Morning (Spring-Summer Romance Book 1) by Alex Greenville Page B

escaped from the rest to curve around her neck.
    There was only one person he needed to thank tonight, a beautiful woman who’d crawled into his heart.
     

     
    The tires hummed on the road, a tune on the radio playing softly overtop. The remains of the sunset flashing in her eyes, Lydia concentrated on finding a good pace in the highway traffic, not relaxing until she saw the green distance sign. It’d take a couple hours to get there.
    She lowered her hands to the bottom of the wheel and flicked Aarin a glance. “What’s that look for?” she asked.
    She’d had some explaining to do to her roommate, Marianne, in order to leave dressed like this. She’d settled for a half-truth, saying she was going to dinner, and let her wonder with who and why. She’d not seen Karen at all and had actually been relieved. The last thing she needed was another run-in with her so soon. She was already suspicious enough.
    Clearing her thoughts, unwilling to let them ruin her evening, Lydia eyed the teasing smile on Aarin’s lips. Dressed up, he made her heart patter hard. He looked so mature, so cultured. Though his crooked tie and unkempt hair had given him boyish charm.
    “I was thinking of a story from my childhood,” he said. “Me and a friend, kid named Billy, got it into our heads to spy on his sister. She was five years older than us, fifteen, and …” He coughed into his curled hand. “Curvy.”
    Lydia met his amused gaze with one of her own.
    “We snuck into the girl’s bathroom at the high school and hid in a stall. Unfortunately, we ended up standing there for well over an hour and it was … revealing.”
    Lydia allowed herself a muffled laugh. “Did she show up?”
    He nodded. “Eventually, and it was everything I’d hoped.” He shrugged. “We were young and stupid. In reality, I saw little very little, and Billy … well, it was his sister, so he was kind of grossed out. But it didn’t end well. We’d thought no one had seen us, only, apparently one of her friends had. She’d told everyone we were in there and that’s why the long delay. Eventually, she shoved the stall open and dragged us out by our necks.”
    His laugh mingled with hers.
    “I haven’t thought of that in years. Maybe it’s like tonight … more of me reliving my youth.”
    His expression sobered then, and she read in it what he wanted to say. Stretching one arm out, she laid her fingers in his palm. He curled his own around them.
    “Let’s just be Lydia and Aarin tonight,” she said. “No need to bring up that I’m in your class.” That was what had been bothering him, but he hadn’t wanted to be the one to say it. “I insist,” she pressed. “Make one mention of the college or English lit class and I’m walking right out of there.”
    He compressed her fingers, but didn’t release them. “Not one word,” he replied.
    But words weren’t necessary. They hadn’t said anything standing in his foyer, yet she’d known what he struggled with and she wished to relieve it. Why did other people’s opinions have to have any bearing on the two of them? They hadn’t noticed his award, and none of them would have made sure he got there. For that matter, no one at the college appeared to give him as little as the time of day. She didn’t believe he wanted to be coddled necessarily, but he needed a little more time and attention than anyone realized.
    Eventually, he relinquished her hand, but she carried the weight of his grip with her as she drove. An hour and a half later, she pulled up beneath the porte cochere of the hotel where the ceremony was being held. A uniformed valet helped them both from the truck, and Aarin tossed the young man a tip. Then extending his arm to her, he tucked her to his side and led her in the entrance.
    It swarmed with people, temporarily discombobulating them. A series of signs, straight ahead, showed the way upstairs, and they fell into the crowd, surging through a set of double doors into a