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“Hey, Mr. Wyatt,” Jake says.
“Mr. Forney, how was your basketball game?”
“We won.” His simple answer says a lot. This is a championship school. I don’t know how they manage to do it. Every sport, every activity really is a state champion, even the chess club. It’s a very over-achieving school.
“Of course they did,” Hannah chimes in fron her place next to him.
“Well that’s good. I trust you’ve all read the assigned pages in The Great Gatsby?”
I get a good mix of yes as well as groans. This is a once a week program. They had plenty of time to read the sixty pages I assigned last week.
“Let’s discuss. What do you think the significance of the billboard described by the narrator signifies in chapter two?” I ask, no one looks interested, but it’s three o’clock on a Friday afternoon. I’m almost not interested myself. Not when I’ve got Jinny to look forward too.
“The neglect of the neighboorhood,” Hannah says.
“I agree with that to an extent. I also feel there are some religious overtones there. What do you think?”
We go back and forth on that for a while before moving on. At the end of the class, I rush out like it’s last day of school before summer starts. She’s already waiting on me. I love that. She look so damn pretty in the late afternoon sunlight, though it’s a bit chilly. The wind pick up a little bit and her blonde hair ripples. I just want to reach out and touch it, just to see if it’s as soft as it looks.
“I thought you forgot about me,” she says smiling at me. Fuck, that smile.
“I could never forget about you,” I assure her.
We chat as we walk down the street to Margo’s coffee shop. She appears to be nervous as we sit down after ordering. She fidgets and looks around the room like we’re about to be caught robbing a bank. When I reach over and place my hands on hers her eyes pop up to mine. They are wide and gorgeous. She drives me crazy, in the best way. Fuck, touching her feel so right, I never want to stop.
CHAPTER7
JINNY
I am not doing this.I am not here right now. What am I thinking? Apparently not the right thing because none of that stopped me from agreeing to join him for coffee. Now, I am sitting in this cafe with my Professor and oh God. He is going to be in so much trouble. My mind won’t quiet down and my nerves are on one hundred. Kind of like how I was the night I stayed up late putting up my tree last month and had five eggnogs. Yep. I was like Dasher. Practically doing human zoomies. “Stop fidgeting.” His warm hand touches mine and I damn near fall backwards. And what is with that bossy voice? Why is it making my lady bits feel so… throbby?
I look down at where our hands are touching and realize why he said it. I have basically pulled all the threads from my scarf. Darn it. And this was my favorite one. It was hand knitted by a sweet little old lady who used to live next to me last Christamas. She gave it to me as a gift and a thank you for finding her cat. She died that new year.
“Can I get you anything else?” The girl who works here comes to clear the table. “No, thank you,” I tell her, smiling.
“I want to know where your mind went, all of a sudden.” My cheeks begin to burn before I look up at him. God look at his lips. Are men supposed to have lips that… luscious? “Jinny. Focus.” His growly words do nothing for the naughty thoughts going through my mind and all of it involves ginger snaps and hot cocoa. Naked. Holy moly. Get a grip, Jinny. “Jesus, you are so fucking readable.” He wipes his hands down his face and now I feel like I have done something wrong. Of course I have. That’s what I do. Make mistakes and disappoint people.
Clearing my throat, I try to straighten up and be more ‘focused’. “I am sorry. I was thinking I didn't want someone to come in here and think you were being inappropriate, if they recognized us. That’s it. I apologize for not being more… I don’t know. Whatever a girl my age should be. I won’t waste anymore of your time.” Trying to stop the tears before they fall in front of him, I scramble from my chair, knock it over as I get up, and basically trip all over myself. Geesh, Jinny. You can’t even leave right. I hear what I think is a curse behind me, but I don’t turn back to check.
I make it to the corner of the building before I lean against it and give myself a second to cry. I don’t know why I am so upset. It is not like this was anything other than him being polite. Not to mention I am used to people seeing me as nothing but a nuisance. So why does it hurt so much more coming from him? “Please tell me you are not crying.” Stiffly my back straightens as his warm, cognac and eggnog voice caresses me. “Turn around and look at me,” he commands, standing so close to me, I can feel his body heat through the cold. Helpless to do anything but what his bossy voice says, I turn and he gasps, immediately turning his head from my face. “Please wipe those offensive tears from your face, precious. I might lose my mind if I think you're hurting because of me.” What the heck is happening here? And wait, did he call me precious? My fuzzy gloves slide across my cheeks as I wipe the wetness and look at him. “Thank fuck.” His hands come to my face and he looks me in the eyes, not saying anything.
“Uh, professor?”
“Call me Noah outside of the classroom, precious.” He said it like I am going to be seeing him more than that.
“Okay. Noah. What is happening?”
“I have no fucking idea.” He says it and then like a bit of Christmas magic, his mouth touches mine slightly. Not enough to be indecent, but enough for the feeling to linger once he pulls back. “I knew you would be sweet.” Blushing, I bite my lip and try to keep a level head.
“It’s just the hot chocolate I had.” His thumbs rub along my cheeks and his head moves back and forth.
“No, precious. It’s you. You are so sweet and innocent and I am a grumpy asshole. But, I never meant to make you cry. I was not criticizing you, precious girl. I am just pissed because you are out here in the world all alone and vulnerable. Your face is readable and that makes you easy prey for some jackass to come and take advantage and fucking hell, I want to be able to have a claim on you so that doesn’t happen.” My mouth moves up and down as I try to think of some to say to that, but I'm still running his words through my head. Did he just admit to wanting me?
“I-I can’t… don’t know what to say.” He chuckles and kisses me chastely once more before pulling back.
“You don’t have to say anything, precious. It’s done. The day you walked in late, face disheveled and clearly upset, every protective instinct I had boiled over. The sexist woman I have ever seen is my student. It pissed me off. I couldn’t walk you to my office, mark you, and then seat you in front of me so I could keep an eye on you.” Well, okay then.
“Why not?” As soon as it comes out of my mouth, I cover it with my hand, shocked I was brave enough to give voice to the naughty little Santa’s in my head. He chuckles and shakes his head.
