Questing Heart: Fighting Heart Erotic Bad Boy Romance Series Book 2 Read Online Free PDF Page B

Bess and the girls who I had lived with right at the start, above the Loampit Inn, I felt like I was sinking into a lonely quagmire. No matter which way I had turned, Brandon had unleashed cruelty in my life, but Penny didn’t see it. A little while back I didn’t have a college place, and now I had a college place but didn’t have a roof or a bed. I was seriously confused and I was beginning to blame myself for everything, even though the tiniest voice inside my head was telling me that this wasn’t my fault. I don’t like self-pity, I never have, so I decided I would pull myself out of it. To do that, I needed some help – I needed to find Cody. I phoned him again, but there was no reply. Second of all, I hung around the library for a few hours until I saw a couple of the hipsters that Cody hung with but never described as his friends.  I saw the beanpole guy with the beard who sometimes drank coffee with Cody at the café.
    “Hey. Have you seen Cody? I’ve been looking for him everywhere.”
    The guy shrugged and spoke in a strange too-deep voice. “No. I heard he went away for a week, so I suppose he must have done.”
    “Is there anyone who might know for sure?”
    “He’s more buddies with the Professors more than anyone else. You tried speaking to Cantor?”
    “Professor Cantor? I’m not sure I want to.”
    The big guy laughed. “Yeah. I know what you mean. But he’s your best bet.”
    The beanpole guy waved and left me to it. Cantor, damn it. That guy was the one who demanded all the tough answers on William Blake. He looked like a cartoon leprechaun brought to life, all tweed and check trousers, and checked shirts with unmatching ties. He looked like be bought his whole wardrobe from a retro-lecturer clothes outlet. Now there was a gap in the market. I sucked a deep breath and walked to the English corridor without much conviction. I paced the narrow document strewn walkway gazing at the small type-faced diaries beside each cubby-hole door, each tiny office belonging to a different Professor. I came to Cantor’s. The corridor was quiet so I decided he wasn’t in, and made to walk away without trying the door, but the creaking floorboards must have given me away. Cantor’s door swept open quickly, and there was the ginger-bearded Professor Cantor, his head sweeping left and right before his wild little eyes landed on me.
    “Ashley Pearson?”
    I was taken aback that he remembered my name and nodded.
    “Yeah…”
    “Are you looking for anyone in particular or do you enjoy skulking around in corridors as some sort of hobby?”
    “I have other hobbies. Professor, can I speak with you… just a moment?”
    “I have a smidgen of time. Come in.”
    He opened the door into his musty old academic room which was more an unkempt and uncared for office in-tray than a seminar room. “Sit down.” He said gesturing to one of the paper strewn soft chairs with wooden arms. I picked up the papers from my seat and laid them aside.  The Professor, a man maybe in his mid-sixties, took up station at his desk.
    “Now, what can I do for you, Ashley?”
    He looked at me and pressed a pen to his mouth.
    “Cody Barnes, Professor. He’s a good friend of mine, but we’ve had a little disagreement. I need to know where he is because I want to explain something to him… I want to make amends.”
    “Ah,” said the Professor with a knowing smile. “Normally, I really wouldn’t divulge the whereabouts of one student to another, but I happen to know that Mr Barnes is something of a fan of yours, Miss Pearson,” said the Professor in his Irish lilt.
    “Really? Why do you say that?” I asked.
    “I just happen to know, that’s all. I don’t just read books, Miss Pearson. I can read people too.”
    He started writing down a note on a jotter pad then he tore it off and handed it to me.
    “You do know that Mr Barnes is an outstanding writer, don’t you, Miss Pearson.”
    “I do.”
    “He speaks highly of you.