Molly's Mr. Wrong. Jeannie Watt
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it best to start slow.”
“Definitely. Especially after...uh...” Dylan gave a discreet cough and Finn filled in the blank for him.
“I did crappy in high school?”
“Yeah. Something like that.”
“I had no reason to do well. Now I do.” And his grades hadn’t been that bad. He’d graduated with a high-C average. He’d actually excelled in math, the only class he’d truly enjoyed. The rest had been more a chore than anything, but again, now that he had a reason to learn, he’d do better.
“I think this is a good idea, Finn.”
That was what Finn had been waiting to hear. Dylan knew school. He knew academics. He knew Finn.
“Maybe I’ll tell Mike, then. I can take math and English in the evening and still work full-time. After that, then we’ll have to work something out.”
“After that, Jolie and I will be back and she can take over your job.” Just the words Finn had hoped to hear.
They talked for a few more minutes about life in Colorado, then Finn hung up feeling a lot more certain about his course of action.
Hell, he was actually kind of excited.
* * *
“I KNOW THIS is a full schedule,” Mary Jean Flannigan, the curriculum director, passed a printout of Molly’s new classes across the desk to her, “but with funding cuts, we’ve all had to pull extra duty.”
“I’m okay with it.” As a new instructor to this school, she’d be stupid not to be okay with it, but the truth of the matter was that she didn’t mind being overloaded, and this schedule didn’t seem that bad. The only addition to the mock-up she’d received the week before was an evening basics class and a composition class run in conjunction with the local high school, which gave the high school participants college credit. Molly was well familiar with the program. She’d had nine college credits by the time she’d graduated from high school, but had never dreamed she’d one day be teaching in the program.
“Let’s see...” Mary Jean flipped through some papers on her desk, then squinted up at the computer screen. “Looks like you’re set. You’ll share an office with Kelsey Cunningham and you have a key to that, so...any questions?”
“Class lists?”
“Will be loaded by the end of the day.”
Molly smiled. “I’m set.”
She walked out of the director’s office and started down the hall to her office, only to slow her steps as she caught sight of a guy walking ahead of her who looked an awful lot like Finn Culver from the back.
Finn was a student?
He certainly hadn’t been one in high school. Rumor had it that the only reason he made grades was because the coaches needed him to be eligible to play.
It couldn’t be him.
But when the man turned down another hallway, Molly caught his profile and her stomach twisted a little. Yep. Finn.
She put her head down and continued to her office at a brisk pace. So what? He was probably there for the diesel mechanics course. Or maybe welding. Even if he was in one of her courses—so what? What had happened between them was history—and more importantly, it truly felt like history now that she had gotten her chance to address the matter with him. That had been satisfying, even if she hadn’t gotten her drain fixed for free.
Mousy.
Pfft.
The one thing she was never going to be again was mousy.
* * *
FINN HAD NO IDEA what to expect his first night of class. His schedule was simple—an hour-long English class on Monday and Wednesday and an hour-long math class on Tuesday and Thursday. Classes started midweek due to Labor Day, so he only had one of each that week. And thankfully, the classes started late enough that they didn’t interfere with work, meaning he didn’t have to tell his grandfather what he was doing just yet. He preferred to test the waters before making any big announcements and now, as he was getting out of his car in front of the community college, he was glad he’d kept his plans to himself.
Registering for the courses had felt surreal, but now that he was in the building, looking for his classroom, well, surrealism was replaced by good old-fashioned nerves.
Which was stupid. He’d seen action in the Middle East; he shouldn’t be intimidated by an English class. But his gut twisted as he recognized his room number. The two middle-aged women walking ahead of him went into the room. Cool. They didn’t look at all intimidating. They looked like normal people. Like him.
Drawing in a breath, he walked into the room, automatically searching for a chair in the back.
“I’d like all the students to sit in the first two rows, please.”
Finn froze at the oddly familiar voice, then slowly turned his head to meet Molly whatever-her-last-name-was’s rather grim gaze. Then he looked down at the schedule he still held in his hand as if it were a ticket to get into the room. M. Adamson.
Adamson. Her last name was Adamson. Bringing his eyes back up to hers, he tried to decide if the night could get any worse. Maybe if his car caught fire or something. Forcing a smile, he made his way to the second row and sat one desk away from one of the women he’d followed into the room. She smiled at him in a motherly way and he smiled back as he checked out Molly from the corner of his eye. She was welcoming another student, guiding her to the front of the room.
Son of a bitch. What were the chances?
He drew in a breath. He could do this. A woman he’d humiliated twelve years ago was now his teacher, but surely she’d treat the situation professionally and not find small ways to torture him. Because if she was going to do that...
What?
He was going to quit?
He didn’t think so. He centered his notepad on his desk, pulled a pencil out of his pocket and readied himself for battle. From the look Molly gave him before she turned to write something on the whiteboard, she was doing the same.
Let the game begin.
* * *
MOLLY HAD LEARNED that Finn was one of her students early that morning when the class lists finally posted—late because of a computer error. So she’d been ready for this moment. He hadn’t had a clue that she was his instructor, and she had to admit to feeling a certain satisfaction at the flash of the deer-in-the-headlights look he’d given her when he’d realized who his instructor was. Yes. That had been one small bright spot in what was no doubt going to be a series of long, self-conscious evenings.
Even now he was sitting with his feet stretched out in front of him, a half smile playing on his lips, looking way too sexy and comfortable. Making her feel less than comfortable. It was almost as if the air was snapping with small sparks now that he was in the room.
She started to speak, but had to stop and clear her throat. “Welcome to English Basic Comp. I’m Molly Adamson...”
She explained her grading procedures, her class expectations and what her objectives were for the course. She handed out the syllabus, gave a brief overview, then leaned back against her desk and asked if anyone had questions before they began the night’s work. Several hands went up, but Molly was expecting that. She’d taught classes specifically for older adults at college in Arizona while she’d worked on her degree and knew that nontraditional students liked to ask questions. They wanted some bang for their buck.
Finn had no questions and when she chanced a look straight at him, instead of letting her gaze skim past him as she’d been doing, she saw that his expression had shifted from cavalier to something bordering on serious.
She swallowed and called on the lady next to him—Debra—who had a lot of