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“May I help you?” She moved out from behind Lincoln.
The man shook the paper. “You gave my son a fuckingF.”
Grace’s shoulders stiffened. “You must be Todd Oliver’s father.”
“Damn right.” He crushed the paper into a ball and threw it at her feet. “Todd is the starting quarterback on the football team. He’s a goddamn star. Do you know how close he is to academic probation?”
“Yes, I do, Mr. Oliver. That’s the reason I’ve been trying to contact you and your wife all year.” Grace slanted her gaze to Lincoln. “Would you mind leaving us alone, please?”
Lincoln’s fists curled. Yes, he would mind a whole fucking lot. No way would he leave her alone with this asshole who looked as if he were about to burst a blood vessel.
“My kid is doing fine in all his other classes.” Oliver glowered at Grace. “So what the fuck is wrong with you that you can’t teach him?”
“Don’t swear at her,” Lincoln said evenly.
“I’ll swear at whomever the fuck I want to.” Oliver turned to Lincoln. “And who the hell are you?”
“Excuseme.” Grace stepped between them before Lincoln could respond. “This is my classroom. Mr. Oliver, please sit down so we can have a civil conversation about this. IwantTodd to pass my class.”
“Well, his grades and my wife speak differently,” Oliver snapped. “You can’t give him an F on a paper you asked him to write.”
“The problem is that he didn’t write it. He copied it from a website.”
“That’s a damned lie.” Oliver spread his arms out and stepped close to her in physical intimidation. “You want to spread more lies about my kid?”
Lincoln edged between them again and looked Oliver in the eye. The other man was shorter, but wider in the torso, with fleshy arms and big shoulders. He’d put up a fight, but Lincoln could take him, if it came to that.
“Miss Berry asked you to sit down,” he said.
“Miss Berrycan go to hell,” Oliver spat.
“You both need to stop right now.” Grace closed her hand around Lincoln’s arm again. “Mr. Atwood, I asked you to leave. This is a private conversation.”
“I’m not leaving.” He yanked his arm from her grip. His anger flared hot and swift, surprising him on some level. He’d never been the quick-tempered one.
Oliver sneered at him. “You got a kid in her class? Do you know about the sex poems she’s making them study? That shit ain’t right. And flunking a top-level athlete like Todd? The recruiters have been eyeing him for months. He could get a D1 scholarship if she doesn’t mess things up.”
He thrust his finger at Grace. “We’re taking this to the superintendent if his grade doesn’t improve.”
“Threatening me will not help Todd’s grade. Mr. Atwood, pleasego.”
He backed up half a step, but stayed close enough to Oliver to warn him to keep his distance.
“Mr. Oliver, I tried speaking with Todd again today, but we didn’t get anywhere.” Though Grace’s tone was even, tension lined her jaw. “Last week, I gave him the opportunity to rewrite the paper and turn it in today. He didn’t do so. I’ve also asked him to stay after school so I can give him extra help, but—”
“He’s not spending a crapload of extra time writing about stupid poetry.” Oliver pointed at her again, his beard quivering with rage. “He has more important things to do. So you get your priorities straight, lady, and you give my kid the grade he needs. Or I swear to God, you’ll regret it.”
He stalked to the door, banging his fist against the doorframe as he left.
Lincoln turned to Grace. Her expression was hard, her breathing fast.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” she replied tightly. “I asked you to leave.”
“I wasn’t leaving you alone with him.”
“It was not your decision to make.” She strode behind her desk and began stuffing folders and papers into her book bag. “I do not appreciate being countermanded in front of a parent.”
