Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 84(@200wpm)___ 67(@250wpm)___ 56(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 84(@200wpm)___ 67(@250wpm)___ 56(@300wpm)
“What are you doing here?” she finally asks, still staring at me like I have two heads or something.
“I teach an enrichment program for seniors.” I love the program. They don’t know much about literature and it’s a clean slate. I feel like I get to impart wisdom for the first time. Once I got my doctorate, I taught at the master’s level and those students pretty much already know everything there is to know.
“You do?” she asks, smiling at me.
“Yes. I volunteer.”
“Like court-ordered volunteering?”
“No. The good kind,” I say, chuckling.
“Oh, good,” she says as if she was worried that I’d have court-ordered community service.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“I was covering a class for someone.”
“Ah, how nice of you. Would you like to go out for coffee after class?,” I ask, throwing all my doubts out the fucking window. “There’s a shop down the street.”
“I don’t drink coffee.”
“Okay. Come out for Tea, milk, juice, hot cocoa. Any beverage will do,” I say, impulsively reaching for her hand. She gasps and I know she feels whatever this is between us.
“Hot cocoa sounds great,” she says, smiling.
“I’ll meet you out front after class then.”
“See you then.”
I watch her walk away. Shaking my head, I get my shit together and head to my classroom.
“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.
CHAPTER 7
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.