Not this guy. Harry just shoved half a scone into his mouth, chewed twice, and then swallowed. What was he, a German shepherd? Did the guy not appreciate the amazing flavors in his mouth?

"Thanks, but I'm not rushing."

"Dude. You're totally joining Sigma Phi."

"Sorry. Can't afford it."

"I'll sponsor you, man. You're joining."

Sponsor him? "No, thanks." He turned away to enjoy his damn scone.

"Dude, you're a freshman. You don't know. Come by tonight, you'll get it."

"What's he going to get?" Sydney, the homeowner, came in and eyed the baking sheets.

"Scone?" Nicole said.

Sydney looked tormented. "I wish."

"It's not like you'll get fat from eating one scone. You can eat breakfast, you know. One scone and a glass of juice won't make you fat. Besides, these scones are like the five food groups in one tasty morsel."

Dylan snickered. Morsel. She cracked him up. But she was wrong-the sugar from the juice and the scone? Not good for the metabolism.

Once the calorie discussion got underway, he leaned against the wall and took that first bite. His teeth broke through the crunchy outer layer and sank into the crumbly, wildly flavorful, goodness. Holy mother of God. What did she put into these things? Yeah, he tasted apple and spices, but there was something more-a tang-no, a twist. Something lemon. Shit, it was like standing in the middle of an orchard on a hot summer day.

"Good?"

He opened his eyes to find Nicole gazing up at him with those warm hazel eyes. No make-up, straight, shiny hair falling around her beautiful face. The scone tasted unbelievably good, but then to wrap her voice around the flavors-desire burned through his dick, and he got a semi right there in the kitchen.

"It's all right." He shrugged, giving her a half-smile.

She beamed, and he loved that he could do that to her.

"I gotta jet." Harry insinuated himself in their conversation as if there were no place on earth he wasn't welcome. "We'll head over tonight around nine. Cool?"

Dylan had had enough. He wanted two minutes alone with his scone and Nicole. He wouldn't see her again for the rest of his day, and the last thing he wanted to talk about was joining some club that put him in the same room with Garrett and Caroline. "Seriously, man. I'm not interested in joining a frat."

"Well, we're interested in you. You're like hot chick bait. But, seriously, man, what's not to be interested in? You'll love it. You'll see."

"Look, my dad isn't friends with Trump, I don't summer in the Hamptons, and I don't drive last year's model Ferrari that my dad got tired of. Sorry, but I'm just not your kind of people."

The buzz of activity in the kitchen died. He turned to find all eyes on him. Some looked embarrassed, while others looked enthralled, like they were watching reality TV.

Harry took off his diamond-encrusted platinum watch and handed it to him. "Here. Now you fit in. See? No one gives a shit. We're in college, man. We're here to have fun. You just gotta relax." He shrugged. "Besides, you gotta think about the future. These're the guys that're gonna hook you up with jobs when you graduate. It's a lifetime of connections you get to score right now. Get it?"

Dylan had to concede the point. Couldn't deny the value of connections. "I'll think about it."

"Cool. See you at nine." Harry grabbed another scone, shoved most of it in his mouth, and headed off.

Too many eyes on him, too many people knowing his shit. He had to get out.

A hand fell on his shoulder, and he whipped around to find another of his housemates, Tatiana. "I'm a Theta, and I'm telling you, you're going to love Sigma Phi. You'll be very popular, if you know what I mean."

He shot a look to Nicole, wondering if this conversation made her uncomfortable.

And then Sydney flashed her pure white smile and said, "Seriously, Dylan, it doesn't matter if you come from money. You're super-hot and, if you wind up making lots of money one day, no one will care where you came from."

A loud clatter drew his attention. Nicole tore off her oven mitts and tossed them onto the counter. "What is the matter with you people?" She snatched a baggie out of a box in a drawer, stuffed some scones in it, and shoved it at him. "You are so much better than this, you know." She stomped out of the room.

Wait, she was mad at him?

The Magnusson School of Business stood on north campus. The artsy types hung out on the south side, which meant he and Nicole wouldn't cross paths during the day. So it came as a surprise, as he headed out of his statistics class into the bright sunshine of a September day, to see Nicole in her floaty yellow and tangerine shirt wandering off the walkway and ducking into the woods.

He had an hour until his next class, and while he usually used this time to check in with his mom, he couldn't resist seeing where she was headed. Plus, he wanted to know what he'd done to piss her off that morning.

Following that blast of color through the green foliage, he was surprised when the thick brush gave way to a structured garden. A meandering stone walkway curved around patches of mowed green grass. Sprinkled throughout the park stood large, steel sculptures. She ducked off the path, disappearing. That's when he began to notice hidden enclaves tucked into the woods-small, enclosed spaces, each with a curving cement bench.

Nicole sat down on one of them, completely unseen from the path. She dropped her backpack, drew her legs up and crossed them, plunking a brown paper bag in her lap. Out came a sandwich in a plastic baggie. She tilted her head back, closing her eyes against the sun, and took a bite.

He watched her for a moment. She was so fucking beautiful. "Hey."

She jerked. "Oh, my God. You scared me. What're you doing here?"

"I followed you. What is this place?"

"The Sculpture Gardens."

"Makes sense." He sat beside her. The cement was cool under his ass. "How's your lab going?" She'd mentioned having a hard time in it, which seemed odd, since she loved cooking so much.

Her shoulders slumped. "Oh." She let out a breath. "I blew it."

"What'd you do?"

"I made some crack about the syllabus. Everyone was talking, so I didn't think he could hear me from the back row. Only, he wasn't in the back row. He was right next to me."

"What'd you say?"

"Well, you know how a lab is supposed to be a hands-on experience about whatever you're learning in class?"

He nodded, aware of how much he enjoyed just sitting with her.

"So, I assumed it'd be about food science. I get the lab's about cooking, and that's why we have Chef Henri, but it's about sustainability, so I figured we'd have to put together a whole meal using twenty dollars or using only locally grown products. But on the syllabus all I could see were sections on meat, fish, poultry, venison. I mean, what's that? It did say something about sensory evaluations of food products, and that's food science, for sure. But, God, everything else was just..." She actually shuddered. "Animal flesh."

Dylan smiled, eyeing her sandwich. Thick slabs of whole grain bread, tomatoes, cucumber, avocado, and alfalfa sprouts. It sure looked good. "So, what'd you say?"

Without even thinking, she gave him half. "I said, Wonderful, a carnivore's holding me captive. I was joking."

"What'd he say?" Dylan waved away the sandwich, but she thrust it at him.

"Try it. It's good."

"It's your lunch."

"I get half your bed, you get half my sandwich."

His body heated at the mention of sharing his bed. It made him think of her body pressed up to his, the brush of her silky hair on his arms, and the painful morning wood he woke up with every single day.

But she'd get her furniture soon and move into her own room, and that would be that. So, he'd take what he could while he had her.

In the only way he could have her.

"Thanks." He reached for the sandwich. One bite and his mouth went giddy with excitement. "What do you put in here?"

"It's the dressing. It's got lemon and sage in it."

He tipped the sandwich towards her. "So, what'd he say that makes you think he doesn't like you?"

"He said, 'Mademoiselle, no one is in this lab against her will.' And then he pointed to the door."

"You're overreacting. Damn, this is good." The bread had a crunch to it. Sunflower seeds, maybe?

"Dylan." She tipped her head back, staring up at the sky.

"He doesn't hate you for saying that. He knows it was a joke."

"He's looking for any reason to cut us. And there are plenty of other labs to choose from. The only students in his want to be accepted into the Culinary minor."

"You're usually such an optimist."

"I'm not giving up." She frowned. "It's just...I'm good at baking, just...not so interested in most of the other things he's got on there. But I really want to be in this program. How can I make sure everyone has access to healthy food if I don't know how to make and provide it? Plus, I'll be a better baker if I understand the chemistry of food."

"So, you'll do what it takes."

"I will. Oh, and guess what? I made some calls and the nearest bakery's all the way across the lake. Our business is good to go."

To be honest, he couldn't imagine making bank off selling a few cupcakes. But he had nothing to lose. He'd roll with it for a while, see if it turned into anything.

"And...I want to call it Sweet Treats. Before you make fun of me, I know it's not the most unique name, but I really like it."

He honestly couldn't care less about the name of the business. "Not gonna make fun of you. You want to take some pictures of your cupcakes and I can start building a website?"

She blasted him a smile that cut through to the heart of him. "You're really in."

He shrugged. "Sure." A tomato slice hung from the bottom of his sandwich, and he pushed it back in. "Why were you pissed this morning?"

"I wasn't pissed."

"You stormed out of the kitchen." He watched her carefully. He liked to read her expression. It revealed everything.

"I just hate that you think you're so different from the rest of us."

He scowled. "I am."

"No, you're not. Maybe you think you're different because of your mom's scene on the front lawn, but what exactly do you think goes on behind closed doors in everyone else's homes? Do you think because Caroline is from a wealthy family that her parents are like Disney characters? She didn't become a raging bitch because she was just so doggone pretty and rich and popular. Maybe Caroline's parents have no time for her. Maybe they cheat on each other, and Caroline's grown up seeing it. Maybe she was raised by a revolving door of nannies."

"I don't care what her issue is. She was right to kick me out of the house."

She reeled back. "No, she wasn't."

"My mom stole Garrett's credit card."

"That's right. Your mom did. God, Dylan. You're not your mom."

"But I'm associated with her. And if you think that's not true, you didn't see how they looked at me. In their eyes, I was my mom." And no one could pretend otherwise because even in his small town where the McCaffreys were respected, everyone had painted him with the same brush as Lorraine.

"But you're not. So stop defining yourself that way."

"Define myself what way? As my mother's son? As the kid who grew up in trailer parks? That's who I am. That's not a judgment. It's a fact."

Taking in a sharp breath, she looked appalled. "But you're not." She leaned forward, getting all worked up. "You're not poor, you're not working class, you're not middle class, you're not anything. Your parents might be, but you're just a college kid. Just like the rest of us."

"Right. Harry's white trash like me."

"Stop it. You're not white trash. And Harry's not rich. He didn't buy that ugly watch with money he earned. His dad gave it to him. His dad gave him that ridiculous car he drives. His dad is rich. Harry's just like you. Every single one of us is in the exact same place-the starting point. And you get to build from here. You get to decide what and who you become. This is the one time in your life when you can finally break free of all the labels. Dylan, you can be whatever you want. Starting now."

He'd had enough of her nave bullshit, so he shoved what was left of the sandwich back at her and stood up. "Do you think this is somehow new to me? That so far I've lived and gone to school only inside the trailer park? Jesus, Nicole. My whole fucking life I've been defined by where I live and my mother's latest bullshit. So don't tell me it doesn't matter because it does. It means I can't play football because I have to work after school. It means the nice, clean kids can't play with me, and the good girls won't go out with me. It's how my world works, and I'm okay with it. In fact, I don't give a shit. I do my thing, and I don't get involved because I understand that no one wants to get near the ugliness of my world."

She'd watched him the whole time, unfazed. Which pissed him off because he liked when he could scare people away.

But she just set her lunch bag aside and got up, facing him. "I don't know what your life was back home, any more than you know what my life has been like. But I do know you get a fresh start here. So why are you slashing White Trash all over it in red Sharpee? You can be anything you want to be."

"Really? That's great to know. Because I want to be the guy who makes enough money so my mom never has to worry again about a roof over her head. That's it." Like she could begin to understand. It just pissed him off that she thought everyone had the same opportunities as her. "You don't know shit about my life, Nicole. Don't pretend you do."

CHAPTER FIVE.

Lying on her back, the sky glittering with stars, Nicole couldn't stop worrying about Dylan. Of course he was right-she really didn't know anything about his life. She should keep her mouth shut. It was just...God, she hated the way he labeled himself. The lack of options he saw. But, he was right, it was none of her business.

"I don't see anything." James patted the blanket, found her hand, and then squeezed. "Why are we here again?"

"It's what people who don't party do for fun."