Page 83 of Pucking Good Girl

The only alternative that comes to mind is to call his bluff and see if he’s willing to give me a failing grade. And a part of me is convinced that he wouldn’t. That adding tampering with a test to his already questionable behavior would feel too risky even for a creep like him.

Deep down, though, I know he’ll go through with his threat. If anything, because Genevieve will make sure he does.

So I really have no other choice but to put my fate in the hands of our professor.

A warm, large hand lands on the small of my back. “Go on, pretty girl. Knock. We’re here by your side.”

Turning to look at Becks, Macklin, Tucker, and Vaughn, I mutter. “That’s part of why I’m so nervous. Professor Cantucci has something against student-athletes. Rumor has it that hockey players are at the top of her shit list. Maybe turning up here with four of the Cove Knights’ star players isn’t such a great idea.”

Macklin’s hand joins his brother’s, skimming the base of my tailbone. “We’ve been over this, baby. You can go in by yourself as long as Victor isn’t in there. If he is, we’re coming in with you.”

“If he isn’t,” Tucker backs his team captain. “We’ll guard the door to make sure he doesn’t decide to join the professor’s office hours.”

I turn to look at my brother over my shoulder. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. We agreed on no violence. You all promised. Even you, Vaughn.”

“And we always keep our promises.” Vaughn looks downright angelic when he reassures me. “Don’t you believe our scouts’ honor promises?”

“Were you ever a Boy Scout?” I ask.

Vaughn has the decency to squirm under my probing gaze. “No, but⁠—”

“Neither was Tucker. And I’m willing to bet that the same can be said for Macklin and Becks.”

I know I’m right when Macklin’s sheepish smile doesn’t reach his eyes and when Becks turns redder than a ripe tomato.

“That’s what I thought.” I sigh, resigned to my destiny. “Let’s hope my lucky star is shining on us today so we don’t have to call our parents to bail us out of jail.”

Before any of the guys can utter any more promises, I know they don’t intend to keep, I knock on the office door.

Here we go. Alea iacta est (the die has been cast).

“Come on in,” Professor Cantucci’s voice calls out.

I exhale a shuddering breath. Ok, at least she’s in there. That’s a start. Hopefully, she’s alone.

“Talia,” the professor smiles as soon as I open the door. “What a pleasure to see you.”

Professor Cantucci rises from the chair behind her desk, coming to meet me at the door.

She’s a very attractive woman with long blonde, wavy hair, warm brown eyes and a thin physique that would be the envy of any supermodel. Today she’s in a slim fit charcoal gray cashmere blouse with a scoop neck and a long, dark red skirt in a silky fabric. The floral pattern on the skirt is the perfect flirty counterpoint to the serious note of the blouse. Her tiny waist is cinched by a thick brown belt, and matching high-heeled boots add inches to her short stature. The professional and yet youthful look is completed by large, thin gold hoops on her ears, a myriad of thin gold bangles on one of her wrists, and her trademark cat eye.

Placing Professor Cantucci’s age is hard, as her mannerisms are also that of a relatively young woman. I assume her to be at least in her forties, though, simply because of the mile-long list of her academic achievements and the many notable archeological expeditions she’s been a part of.

“Take a seat. How can I help you, Talia?” The professor smiles, revealing a tiny diamond in one of her upper teeth.

As she’s about to close the door behind herself, one large foot gets in the doorjamb, and it’s followed by Macklin’s tall frame.

The professor rears back, visibly surprised as each of my self-appointed bodyguards files into the office.

The smile Professor Cantucci just greeted me with evaporates like a popsicle left out in the sun. “I see you aren’t alone,” her brown eyes go around her office. The room suddenly looks much smaller with so many large men inside it. “If this is about your group project, I’m afraid there’s very little I can do at this point. Like I warned you when I assigned the project, there aren’t going to be any changes to the team members you drew in the raffle. And at this stage, with only a couple of days until your presentation is due, there aren’t going to be any extensions either. If you aren’t ready for your presentation in three days, the entire group will receive an incomplete.”

“No, this isn’t about our group project,” I offer, noticing how the professor’s demeanor changed as soon as she saw the guys. “Our garum is fermenting as we speak. Hopefully, it’ll be somewhat edible. It should be interesting, that’s for sure.”

Professor Cantucci smiles, but this time it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m glad to hear that. Then, if it isn’t about the group project, what brings you all here?”

There’s a painful lump in my throat, but I swallow it, aware that what I’m about to say might change my future. It all depends on getting Professor Cantucci to believe me.

“There is no easy way to say this,” I begin cautiously. “So I’ll just explain what happened.”