Single White Knight

Excerpt From: Single White Knight

Dear Lord save him…

“Miss Fremont, please get your hand off my a—body.”

“You almost said ass.” She sighed. “Professor Woods, I love it when a man talks dirty.”

“Oh for the love of—” Toby Woods rushed in to his office and shut the door firmly before the girl got any more ideas about clutching his backside. He leaned his head against the solid wood. His eyes closed, and he sighed. Teaching first year English hadn’t been his intention when he’d come from Northern England to this small private college on the outskirts of downtown Grand Rapids, Michigan, in the United States two years ago. Neither had he intended to teach class after class of horny, barely eighteen years old girls.

His degree was in History with a minor in English. He’d jumped at the chance to teach the courses Origins of Modern English and Medieval History at the college near Levey Museum, the home of a huge collection of medieval documents—documents he’d often been contracted to translate since arriving here. The kicker was the Freshman English courses that had been thrown in as part of the package. They comprised most of his work. There just wasn’t much call for the other two classes.

A little research on the college would have been good, Tob.

Some days were far worse than the rest. Like today.

In his defence, he’d thought Grand Riverside College had been the other school he’d applied to for a teaching position—the one with a co-ed student population. He’d been shocked to arrive and learn the truth. Idiot! But he’d gone with the flow, knowing he’d be instructing in his chosen field with his beloved documents nearby. Well, not his documents. He just liked to think of them that way.

So he’d attended meetings and his orientation with nary a word about his mistake and had almost laughed aloud when the dean of the English department, Gerald Palmer, had sternly commented, “The girls aren’t easy targets for young professors on the make so don’t get any ideas.”

As if. They couldn’t be more safe from him. He was the one who wasn’t safe.

Two years later, Palmer still looked at him sideways as if Toby would jump one of the girls at any time.

He rubbed his backside and strode to his desk to deposit his text and lecture notes. Bloody hell, the girl outside his office just now wasn’t even the worst today. He would have a beastly bruise from someone else’s groping. He didn’t know that student—she wasn’t his pupil—or he’d certainly mark down her grade.

Not taking any chances on a return engagement, he went back to the door and turned the lock. No office hours today, ladies. And none of the attention you seem to want from me either.

What would good old Dean Palmer say if he knew Toby was gay? Toby could guess. He grimaced. Palmer would see him fired—probably for some trumped up reason, too—then send his queer ass packing back to England.

Toby had observed enough at the college to know exactly what would happen. The administration would privately vilify his sexual preference while publicly finding fault with his teaching or record-keeping or something else equally false. They’d get rid of the oddity in their midst despite his complete lack of interested in the students’ bodies.

Bunch of stupid pricks.

Not for the first time, he considered leaving his job, but leaving Grand Riverside would mean leaving the Levey document collection. Unacceptable. He scowled and pulled out his cell phone to check his messages. Maybe the curator from Levey had called to tell him they had some work to fill up his weekend. Or maybe not… He didn’t have a single message. If that wasn’t a sign of his lacklustre life, he didn’t know what was.

He sighed and pushed his hand through his hair. Maybe he should hop on his motorcycle and take another weekend trip to Chicago to hook up with some guy—any guy. Just a guy. Someone he could fuck. Someone who wasn’t from around here, where the grapevine was more far-flung than the one in the small town in upper England where his adoptive family had raised him.

He wished Levey would just hire him full time to do work on their documents. He’d leave the teaching gig behind in an instant. But Levey wasn’t hiring in this economy. Nobody was. And especially not a full time linguist to translate documents that had been around for centuries and would be for several years more.

He was stuck unless he wanted to go back to England with his tail between his legs. That wasn’t happening. Not in this century. Closing his eyes, he lifted his face towards the ceiling and prayed for strength to get through another year of teaching or the guidance to find a job somewhere more…liberal.

His entreaty was interrupted by the sound of musical laughter floating through his office. He jerked around, checking to be sure none of his students had snuck inside. He winced at the thought of the girl he’d had security escort out last week and the unmentionables he occasionally found on his desk and on his chair. It didn’t seem to matter that he locked his door. They still got inside…somehow.

This time, the room was empty. He sighed, turning back to his desk to get ready to leave for the day. If he hurried, he could throw a few things in a bag at home and be in Chicago by seven. Maybe six thirty if he—

Thunder crashed outside, startling him from his thoughts and rattling his office. The windows vibrated and the floor shook. Toby’s phone fumbled out of his hand and onto a pile of books as he stumbled and grabbed the top of his desk. Papers flew to the floor.

Damn! That lightning strike had been close. What the hell was that? It had been clear skies when he’d crossed campus five minutes ago, and his office had shuddered more like an earthquake than a nearby storm. He’d never heard of quakes in Michigan. And that sound had been like an explosion…

Pushing away from the desk, he straightened and turned. He should see if everyone was okay. As a teacher it was his duty to—

Holy shit!

“Oh my God…” he whispered.