Last Chance Read Online Free Page A

Poets were supposed to be anemic-looking, pale men—more like himself, actually, and he smiled at that thought. He couldn't quote Shakespeare to save his life. Were his assumptions about Stu way off base?

    Losing the momentum of the conversation, he wished the waitress would bring their food. He could really use a distraction right about now.

    Stu crossed his arms on the table. “I want to teach at a university.”

    “Professor Hamilton.”

    Aric smirked, imagining female students flocking to Stu's class, fluttering their eyelashes at his every word, being drawn to the power of his light manner and openness—much like himself right about now. Stu's attractiveness was like a drug, and just like a drug, a dangerous addiction.

    Stu held his cup near his lips, a provocative mouth that was tempting Aric to lean over and kiss it.

    “You have a very nice smile,” Stu said. “You'd be more approachable if you showed it more often.”

    A wave of heat washed over Aric's cheeks. This guy was causing his temperature to soar to triple digits. Better to ignore the compliment before I make a total fool of myself.

    “Who are your favorite poets?”

    “That's a hard one. I guess Byron, Keats, Browning.” Stu leaned back and recited,

    “But be not that dull slave, who only looks

    On Reason, 'through the spectacles of books!'

    Rather by Truth determine what is true.”

    Brows arched sharply over those inquisitive eyes, and then Stu said, “Elizabeth Barrett Browning.”

    Was Stu implying he was too dull, getting his knowledge from books and not from life experiences? He sucked in his annoyance. “I believe reason is the best way of determining the truth.”

    “Spoken like a scientist.” Stu studied him intently. “But you must agree, experience teaches far more than something learned from a book.”

    Aric poured more hot coffee into his cup, not sure how to answer. He spent most of his life hiding behind books and test tubes. His life experiences had been limited to spending time at home and going to school. Then he'd met Devon. A brief moment in which his world opened up to the possibility of sharing his life with someone.

    There was a brief silence. Then Stu ventured a guess. “Hey, are you part Asian? You have an interesting face.”

    Aric didn't want to talk about his heritage; it reminded him of his mother. An ache twisted his heart, and he grabbed for the water glass and took several sips.

    “Hey, I'm sorry. Did I hit a nerve?”

    Aric set down the glass. He wiped away the condensation with his finger. “My mother was Japanese. I take after her.”

    “Was?”

    “She died last year in a car accident.” The pain was still fresh, the ache swelling in every part of his body. He tried to suppress the image of her smashed car, a head-on collision flinging her body through the windshield, dead on impact. A drunk driver, but wasn't it always?

    “I'm sorry,” Stu said. “My dad died, so I know how awful it can feel. When you least expect it, a memory or a smell, and you're back to when life felt safe and secure and sure. What really threw me was how life could change so quickly.”

    Aric shrugged away the lump in his throat, nodding in agreement. He missed his mother at odd moments and when he needed a safe haven.

    “What about your dad? Brothers or sisters?” Stu asked.

    “My father left us when I was young. I don't have any siblings. What about you?”

    “My mom lives in San Diego, and I have an older brother in San Francisco.”

    An odd look flittered in Stu's eyes at the mention of his brother. Was it guilt, or some other emotion Aric saw in that brief second? From what Aric could tell, given Stu's open posture and ready smile, Stu was the kind of guy who didn't hide his feelings very well.

    To Aric's relief, the waitress chose that moment to serve their meals and place the bill in the center of the table. Any more time spent in this jock's company, and he'd be talking too much about his