“Hi, Sara. I figured you were either a mom or in healthcare. Thanks for being concerned. No ribs broken. I know what that feels like,” Max said lightly.
“I bet you do,” Sara said. “And you’re right on both guesses. I have two rambunctious boys—five and seven. Don’t miss picking up a syllabus. She passed those out before you got here.”
“Thanks. I’ll do that when I turn in my work,” Max said.
One by one, he met the rest of the class. Max hadn’t planned to break the ice by getting buck-naked on campus, but it had worked. As everyone cleared out, Max picked up his sketch and walked to the instructor standing at the desk.
“My apologies for arriving late. It won’t happen again, whether or not the door is locked. I’m Max Zion.” He offered her his hand.
She hesitated a moment before setting her slender fingers on his. “Saylor Andrews. I’ll hold you to that.” Saylor withdrew the touch quickly.
“Yes, ma’am. I will let you know that I’m on active duty. If my team is deployed suddenly, I may miss class.”
“Do you have time to alert me?”
“Sometimes. I can try to email or call if I have service and clearance. Can I pick up a syllabus? I bet you’ve included your contact information there.”
“I’d appreciate knowing. Who’s your commander?”
“Jerico Adams is my team leader and Caden McDonald is my team chief. I can provide their contact information if you would like that,” Max replied easily, noting she must have family in the military or military experience.
“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.” Saylor held out her hand for his artwork. “Team? You’re special forces?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Max didn’t give any details. Protecting his team took precedence over impressing anyone. Not that he ever gave a fuck what anyone thought.
“I was interested that you chose to draw while modeling. Many will not choose to do that.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“Ah, achieving the objective,” she said, showing insight into a military mindset.
“Yes, ma’am.” He extended his drawing with a nervousness that surprised him. Her opinion mattered to him.
Max saw her eyes widen as she looked at her own portrait. “I thought I was your target. I wondered if you were sketching me as retaliation for asking you to pose first. This is flattering, not the angry characterization of someone unpleasant.”
“Someone had to go first. It made perfect sense to choose the jerk that came late.”
“Perhaps with a reason,” she suggested. “This shows talent. I’ll look forward to seeing more of your work.”
“Thank you. You interest me.” Max saw her face harden and kicked himself mentally. “As an image to capture. Good angles, expression, and all that.”
“Oh, gotcha. What are you looking for out of this class?”
“I destroy a lot of things all the time. Having the chance to create something is important to me. Thank you for teaching the class.” Max looked at the empty classroom around them and asked, “Can I walk you to your car? This is a safe area, but my mother always taught me to be a gentleman.”
The shadows hovering in her eyes darkened with concern. He could tell she wanted to say no, but something made her debate internally. Was she in trouble somehow?
“Thank you. Your mother raised you right. I’ll take you up on that if you’ll give me a couple minutes to gather my things.”
“No rush, Professor.” Max moved slightly away to lounge against the wall.
“Saylor. I don’t stand on titles.”
He nodded. She was a puzzle. Max had gotten a glimpse of her sketch. She was talented. He glanced over the syllabus as he waited and checked for her contact information. Saylor. That wasn’t how he expected her name to be spelled. The uniqueness suited her.
Max turned his attention to the coursework. The different class titles intrigued him. He would learn a lot from her this semester. Hopefully, the team would remain based at home for a few months.
“I’m ready, Max. I’m parked in the lot behind the building.”
