Don't Say Goodbye (Navy Book 2)

Chapter 1

Charlotte Temple, or Charlie as her acquaintances called her, for she had no real friends, sat in her usual place halfway up the riser seating on the end. She was a creature of habit, and having only one quarter left before graduating with a Masters in Psychology, she saw no reason to suddenly change either her choice of seat or her lack of personal relationships. If she took the time to psychoanalyze herself she would probably discover all kinds of reasons for her need of consistency and lack of friendships, but Charlie was not one to dwell on the past or the events that were buried there.

The young man who was presenting his research in front of the class was very uncomfortable, so much so that the class itself was restless as they watched his awkward starts and stops and mispronunciation of words. Charlie had been in a few study groups with him over the years so she knew he was smarter than he was coming across at present.

"When will this pain end?" Blanche Adams leaned over and whispered in her ear with a groan.

Blanche was a cute, petite, blond who had a habit of dressing in revealing clothes, causing all of the men in their classes to flirt outrageously; a fact that Blanche loved. They had shared the majority of their classes over the years and for some reason she had latched onto to Charlie.

Charlie had a suspicion that it was because of her appearance. She hated to draw attention to herself so she always wore her hair pulled back in a ponytail, no makeup, baggy tops, and baggy blue jeans. This presented the perfect foil for Blanche's haute fashion. It also helped that Blanche loved to talk, and Charlie generally only spoke when she had a point to make.

Eventually, the student finished his presentation and returned to his seat, and Dr. Hilliard replaced him in front of the class thanking him for his in depth research.

Charlie had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. Dr. Hilliard's humor was very subtle and almost nonexistent, but every once in a while it reared its head, much to her surprise.

"Thanks for the nice nap," Blanche whispered; Hilliard's humor completely lost to her.

Hilliard reviewed the young man's project, asking the class if there were any questions.

"Thank God we only have one class with old Hilly next quarter." Blanche shared her opinion once more with a silent Charlie.

Even though she was silent, she had her own opinion on the matter. Old Hilly wasn't really that old, he couldn't be more than thirty-five, and despite his average appearance there was definitely more there than met the eye.

Dr. Hilliard was a tough teacher. He did not suffer laziness, carelessness, or fools gladly. If you were in class regularly, contributed to the overall conversation, and took care with projects and research, he was more than fair; even though he came across as a hard ass. Plus, his classes were always interesting and he had a way of making the information stick.

Her first thought of Hilliard had been that he was what one would consider a man who came from the backwoods to look like. He had long, jet black, wavy hair, that he pulled back in a low ponytail and a thick beard that hid the lower half of his face. His clothes were generally blue jeans and button down dress shirts with the occasional tie. His footwear generally consisted of an old beat up pair of loafers that had seen better days.

Blanche had referred to Hilliard as an egotistical hippy the first day they had met him. Indeed, he did look a bit like a hippy, but Charlie didn't think he was egotistical just a bit of a perfectionist.

The few times that they had met during the past quarter were short but to the point. She had always had the distinct feeling that he saw more than she wanted him to see.

Hilliard's eyes caught hers as he perused the class. What he was thinking was a mystery to anyone watching him.

She watched as he answered a question from the back of the room, he never had to strain to make his deep voice heard at the back of the large classroom, then he concluded his lesson, and the quarter, and dismissed the class.

Blanche immediately pulled out her phone and started texting, stepping over Charlie to escape as quickly as possible.

Charlie took her time gathering all of her things as she always did, and the classroom was empty when she was ready to leave.

"Miss Temple, may I have a word with you?"

Charlie wasn't aware that Hilliard was still in the classroom, much less standing on the riser right below her, he had been so still and silent. It put her right at his eye level, and she was so disconcerted that she took a step back from the situation not thinking about the riser behind her as it caught her heel making her lose her balance.

Before she could right herself Hilliard reached out with quick reflexes and grabbed for her, his hand reaching for her arm. The direct contact made her jump to the side, causing her thigh to hit a desk, and she hissed at the impact causing Hilliard to again automatically reach out and steady her by placing his other hand on her waist.

It had to have looked like they were dancing.

Get a grip Charlie, she thought as she quickly backed away again almost losing her balance a third time, but when Hilliard reached out to steady her again she threw her hand up stopping any direct contact.

His mossy green eyes met hers, but as usual she was at a loss as to what she read in them as he watched her closely, his eyes searching again, seeing more than she wanted him to. It made her very uneasy; it was as if he could see all of her secrets.

"I have a personal favor to ask."

Charlie tensed at the word personal.

If he noticed her tension he didn't let on as he continued.

"I have two dogs that need a dog sitter. I have family that usually handles it for me but this trip is unexpected, and since they're out of town and I need someone I can trust."

"Dog sit?" Somehow the idea of this cold perfectionist of a man with dogs just didn't fit her image of him. But just as quickly as she had the thought she had another. "How do you know you can trust me?"

"Let's just say I'm good at reading people." And then without pausing he continued on, as if the question was not as important as the dogs. "You can check on them three times a day or you can stay at my place, whichever you prefer."

Charlie just looked at him. Was he for real? She had barely had any contact with this man in two years, and now he wanted her to watch his dogs and sleep in his house?

"I am a human being Charlie not just a teacher."

She swore she saw his bearded cheek twitch.

"Is it...would it be ethical?"

"As of next week you are no longer in my class so I don't see why it wouldn't be."

"I'm taking one of your classes next quarter."

"I promise to grade you fairly."

Charlie's gaze met his, she didn't doubt for a minute that he would.

He grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down his address. "Here is my address. You really would be helping me out of a jam. Stop by this evening about seven and I'll introduce you to them."

"To them?"

"My dogs."

Charlie took the piece of paper, her hand brushing his. That was direct contact twice in one day. Charlie thought, as she instantly remembered his large hand on her waist.

"I'll take that as a good sign," he said, pointing to the piece of paper she still held in her hand.

She nodded mutely, wondering what excuse she could give to get out of it.