Getting Schooled (Craving #9)

by Anthology

  “Maybe if you said nicer things, you’d get a little farther.” The sound of a male’s voice with a lazy drawl filled the air behind her.

  “I’ve whispered plenty of sweet nothings, but it’s useless. Thanks for the advice, though.” Sylvie turned, a scowl prepared for the know-it-all approaching. Was he here to help, murder, or just ridicule?

  Her narrowed eyes widened, and she instinctively sat up straighter as the man approached. No, not man. Cowboy. Adonis. Beautiful, handsome cowboy Adonis. That seemed like a much more fitting description. From the tips of his scuffed brown boots to the tip of his dusty tan cowboy hat, this man personified walking sex. A blue plaid shirt rolled up to his elbows showed off tan forearms, strong from a hard day’s work. Not like her college boyfriends who bulked up in a gym. No, this guy was different. She could instantly tell.

  “Maybe I can give it a try. I’ve changed a tire or two in my day.” He jabbed a thumb behind him at his old truck.

  “Well, I appreciate the help. I’ve never changed a tire.” The confession seemed extremely weak as it left her lips, and she instantly regretted the words. She hated playing the part of the damsel in distress.

  The cowboy stared at her silently. Was she actually drooling? She lifted a finger to scratch the corner of her mouth. Nope. Dry.

  “You’re Professor Donnoly,” he said. A statement, not a question.

  “I am.” Sylvie nodded. Wyoming West Community College had needed someone to take over the English classes after their tenured professor suffered a heart attack. Sure, there were only three weeks left in the Summer semester. And sure, she’d never taught before. And sure, she lived in Southern California. But she needed a job. She’d either been deemed too qualified or not qualified enough for every other job she’d applied for. The community college was in a bind with their limited summer staff, so each took a chance on the other.

  “I’m in your English 1A class.”

  She’d only taught one class so far, hadn’t gotten to know her students yet. But how could she have missed this man in her class? Most of the students were kids straight out of high school, if even that old. Young. Fresh. Clear eyed. But this fine specimen of man towering above her looked like he’d seen some things. Fine lines creased the corners of his eyes. His jaw hard. Set. A few grays dotted his hair not covered by the large hat he wore.

  “I didn’t notice you.” Let the cowboy decide if she was being coy or just plain honest.

  The hot gravel burned her thighs. Shifting her legs, she began to rise when he stuck his hand out to help her. She gently placed her hand in his rough palm. His hot fingers closed around hers, and he pulled her up with an easy tug. Her hand seemed so small in his.

  A slow smile spread across his lip. A chuckle sounded from deep in his chest. “That’s just my natural charm with all the ladies.”

  “Not being seen?” she countered.

  “Exactly.”

  Sylvie could both believe and not believe that. She couldn’t imagine a scenario where she’d see this man and not instantly be attracted to him. But she had a good ten years on most of her students. The girls in class probably thought of him as an old man. Youth attracts youth. Her own college days had been spent going to endless parties in dingy houses. Places she wouldn’t be able to step foot in now without sanitizing every inch of her body after. The guys she hung out with were barely able to grow peach fuzz, not a ruggedly handsome grown-up like him.

  Of course, there had been the young college professor that all the girls had swooned over, the guy who’d introduced himself on the first day of class as Mike, not Professor Bryant. The guy who sat on the corner of his desk during office hours, so close his thigh rubbed yours, but he didn’t notice, you didn’t even notice, because the philosophy conversation was so engaging. He’d been an untouchable kind of sexy, where he smiled and flirted but spoke about his wife and children so lovingly that every girl wanted him even more. But never got him. This guy probably had a gorgeous woman waiting for him at home.

  “Well, I’m a better teacher than I am mechanic, apparently. I can’t figure this thing out.”

  “Have you ever changed a tire?” he asked as he crouched down by the tire, picking up the tire iron.

  “Nope.”

  “What were you going to do?” His gray-blue eyes reached hers from under the brim of his hat.

  “I don’t really know. Wing it?” Sylvie shrugged in a noncommittal kind of way.

  He answered with a grunt as he pushed down on the tire iron. A fine sheen of sweat appeared on his brow. The fact that he seemed to be struggling made her feel better about her own failed attempts.

  He pushed down again before sitting back on his heels. “Well, not much of a knight in shining armor right now, I guess.”

  “It’s fine. Maybe you could just call me a tow truck when you get reception? That would still be super helpful.”

  “Oh, I’m not giving up after two tries.” He looked up at her and smiled as he stood up and walked toward his truck. His fingers nimbly unbuttoned his shirt. He shed the outer plaid layer, going down to only a white tank undershirt. He threw his shirt into his truck and grabbed a pair of tan leather gloves.

  “Is this the part where you murder me?” Sylvie regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. She’d been obsessed with a popular podcast analyzing murders, but maybe everyone didn’t have the same fascination.

  “Well, I need to pass your class. We’re already one teacher down, so I guess you’re safe. I’m Wade, by the way.” He stuck his hand out again. How odd that she knew the feel of his skin against hers before she even knew his name.

  She gave him a firm, quick shake, trying to minimize contact. Her mind was in treacherous places already. She couldn’t go there with a student. No matter if that student made movie stars look weak and ugly.

  “You can call me Sylvie. Outside of class.” She smiled at him. No lines were crossed just by being on a first name basis with him.

  He raised a finger to the brim of his hat, tipping it. Every inch of him, even down to his inner manners, screamed true cowboy charm.

  “The trick is to jack the car up first,” he informed her as he slid the jack under the car. He clicked the lever in place and easily hoisted the car several inches off the ground.

  “Oh, is that what I was doing wrong?”

  Wade laughed. “Maybe just one of the things.”

  He kneeled back down and picked up the tire iron. His jeans were taut against his thighs. Sylvie couldn’t help that her eyes kept checking out his butt even though she tried really hard to keep her gaze above the waist. Very impressive. Muscles in his shoulders and back flexed as he pushed against the tire iron. A vein pulsed in his neck. Sylvie felt helpless just watching him and tried her best to not enjoy the show so much. This poor good Samaritan didn’t need to be ogled as he saved her.

  Sylvie held her breath. She didn’t know if she felt worse for herself or for him that he’d stopped to help and was being bested by a tire. He grunted as he pushed on the iron. Wade was going to give himself a heart attack. But miraculously, the iron budged a fraction of a millimeter. He smiled up at her and raised his eyebrows before putting his weight back into the next push…and with a whoosh of air, which Sylvie realized was her pent-up breath, the lug nut turned.

  “Just a couple more,” Wade said as he looked up at her again. He wiped the gleam of sweat from his forehead.

  “Oh yeah, that’s all.” If the others were as bad, they’d be here all day. Not that she entirely minded being out here with the handsome cowboy. “I bet you’re sorry you stopped to help! I wouldn’t blame you if you just got back in your car and kept driving. Given that you do call a tow truck for me after all.”

  “I’m not sorry at all.” He grinned again. Had those dimples been there all along? How was she just noticing? Focusing on those deadly dimples seemed like a much safer mindset than untangling the meaning behind his words.

  Luckily the rest of the lug n
uts came off without quite as much effort. Wade breezed through the rest of the process, even putting the useless tire in the trunk for her. By the time he finished, the sun had reached a much lower part of the afternoon sky, but it was still incredibly warm out. He closed her trunk with a soft thud.

  “Can I take you out for a beer as a thank you?” she asked as he leaned against the back of her car.

  “I’m a little too dirty to be in public right now,” he chuckled.

  Sylvie’s eyes ransacked the delicious cowboy: his soiled white tank top, muscular shoulders, lean thighs. She was the one too dirty to be in public. At least, all of her thoughts were. She needed to get home to a cold shower. Fast.

  “Well, it was nice meeting you. I’ll see you in class then.” She stuck her hand out. He reached out with his own. The grease and dirt on his skin made her feel guilty for everything he’d done just because he was a nice guy.

  “I’ll see you in class.” He let go of her hand and turned toward his truck.

  Sylvie opened the door to her car when she stopped.

  “I have cold beer and air conditioning at my place. And it doesn’t matter if your clothes are dirty, especially since it’s my fault.”

  “Well, how can I refuse an invitation like that?”

  Chapter Two

  Wade

  The drive back into town wasn’t a long one. Wade followed Sylvie’s silver car until they stopped at a little white house with a green roof and long gravel driveway. Wade pulled his old truck in behind the car. Sylvie’s car.

  Sylvie.

  Professor Donnoly.

  When he’d begun his day out on his family ranch, he’d never guessed that he’d be spending time with the new professor. He’d been completely struck by her when she walked into their class two days earlier. He hadn’t known what to expect when he’d received an email about the professor having a heart attack and the school bringing in a new teacher, but it certainly hadn’t been the brown-haired, hazel-eyed fox that walked into the classroom, brown satchel in hand. Her eyes had been wide as she stood behind the podium at the front of the room scanning the assembled students. Wade was still having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that the timid professor who seemed about ready to turn and run from the class was the same woman who had shouted curse words that would make a pirate jealous at her flat tire. When Professor Donnoly had started her first lecture, her voice shook. He’d almost felt bad for her. Granted, she became more certain and steady as the class went on. But he noticed her trembling hands. He’d been trained to observe. She guided them through a discussion on Hemingway that made his head spin, especially considering they weren’t studying Hemingway. They were discussing depth of writing when she’d gone into something called the iceberg theory and Hemingway. She intrigued him enough that while the rest of his classmates were grumbling on their way out the door about the pointlessness of the class, he went online and ordered a copy of A Farewell to Arms.

  And now he stood in her driveway. His hot professor. Sylvie.

  She made him feel like a school kid with a crush on teacher. He’d already been eagerly waiting for the next lecture. He hadn’t expected the person on the side of the road to be her. He’d just seen a person who needed help. That was the kind of person his mother raised all of her children to be. His time in the Marine Corps had intensified his ability to help people. When he’d seen who the stranded motorist was, he could barely believe his eyes! Or his luck. Of course, the non-budging tire hurt his pride a bit. He’d die before giving up in front of her. It didn’t help that he’d been distracted by her shapely thighs and the amount of cleavage showing from her tank top. She didn’t dress like that at school, that’s for sure.

  “I like your place,” he said as he approached Sylvie’s car. Why did he feel like an awkward kid on his first date?

  “Oh, thanks. I’m just renting. Had to move here kind of quick, but I love it.” She dug through her large brown leather purse. He heard the rustling, jingling, and clanking from inside the bag, making him wonder what exactly she kept in there. He carried a backpack to school, and it held exactly three pens, one pencil, a notebook, and his laptop. He hadn’t always been so organized. But twelve years in the Marine Corps had taught him to only require the essentials and to keep everything neat and in its place.

  Sylvie led him in through the narrow back door. Wade almost had to turn sideways to fit his shoulders through. The cabin had to be old. Likely from the nineteen twenties. Probably one of the original cabins in the small town. The town had been one of the original outposts in Wyoming for logging. Times were simpler back then…not easier. Just simpler. A doorway was meant to get into a new room, so they cut it just wide enough. A roof had to be tall enough for a man to stand. Nowadays people had doorways a car could drive through and ceilings two or three stories high. Wade figured he could have fit in with the old settlers better than he fit in with the college kids he hung around with now. Was forced to hang around with now. He always made the distinction in his head. College was a means to his next endeavor in life—if he could figure out what that was. Truth be told, he had no clue what he wanted to do next. He’d gotten out of the Marines because he’d seen more in his twelve years than most people would ever see in twelve lifetimes. But he’s known his time serving was coming to an end about halfway into his last enlistment. He needed to move on. He just didn’t know what that meant yet. But he was pretty glad that whatever it was had led him to be standing in the cozy kitchen of his hot professor.

  Man, was she hot! In class she had worn a cobalt blue skirt that skimmed her thighs and fell to her knees and a white silky shirt with a big floppy tie hanging around her neck in a bow. The demur outfit was a distinct contrast to the torn jean shorts and tank top she wore now. He definitely wasn’t complaining. And sure, he’d been showboating a bit when he took his own shirt off. He knew women went crazy for his muscular biceps and well-defined shoulders. They’d told him so often enough. Sylvie’s eyes had traveled to his frame on the side of the road, so he figured she enjoyed the view. Wade didn’t bother putting his shirt back on when they got to her house either.

  “Want a beer?” Sylvie asked as she walked over to the fridge.

  “Sure.” He leaned back against a white-tile counter directly opposite the fridge. He enjoyed the view as she bent over to retrieve two bottles.

  He twisted the cap off after she handed over the bottle. She leaned against the counter perpendicular to him. “Cheers,” she said as she held the bottle out, clinked it against his.

  “Cheers,” he repeated before taking a long pull.

  “So do you often patrol the roads looking for people to save?” Sylvie asked.

  “It’s my favorite thing to do on a hot Saturday afternoon after I’ve been working all day.”

  Sylvie chuckled. “I feel so bad. I think today was the hottest day of the year. Like one thousand degrees or something.”

  “It definitely felt like that. But it’s all good. I’ve been working outside all day.”

  “Doing what?” Was she genuinely interested or just being polite?

  “My parents own a ranch. It’s been in the family for a really long time. This is the time of year we’re busy haying.”

  “So after a day in the hot sun moving around hay bales and whatnot, you then had to struggle with my stubborn tire?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “I think I owe you a second beer.” Sylvie laughed again.

  “I won’t say no to that offer.”

  “Where were you going when you so graciously saved me?”

  “Just to a buddy’s place to hang out.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I should have figured you had plans. You don’t have to hang around here. We can totally raincheck your second beer. Or not. I mean, you don’t have to.”

  Sylvie cast her gaze to her feet. Was she getting shy on him again? If he wanted to be somewhere else, he would be. But he couldn’t imagine that sitting around with a few of his
friends would be more fun than hanging out with the beautiful new professor. His friends were fun. They’d probably play poker, drink some beers, barbecue some burgers. But Sylvie was a whole other level.

  “I’m good here. Unless you want me out of your hair.” Maybe she wanted him to leave but was too polite to ask.

  She looked him square in his eyes. Her hazel eyes burned deep into his. “Not at all.”

  “Do you have a boyfriend or husband I should be concerned about?”

  “Why? You worried someone might beat you up?” Sylvie raised an eyebrow as she raised the bottle to her lips.

  In one fluid motion, Wade pushed off the counter and moved in front of Sylvie, arms braced on either side of her. “Darlin’, I’m never worried about anyone else. I just wanted to know if I should keep one eye open when I kiss you.”

  “Oh, you’re going to kiss me?” Sylvie didn’t break eye contact as she took her lower lip between her teeth. Wade knew she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. His body tensed. What would those teeth feel like grazing over the sensitive parts of his body?

  “You have about five seconds to tell me to hit the bricks before I do.”

  Sylvie didn’t move. He could feel the warmth of her breath as his face hovered a mere inch or two away from hers. Her cherry red lips beckoned to him.

  “Five. Four. Three.” Wade counted slowly. “Two.”

  He didn’t wait to say one. Couldn’t wait to say one. Instead, his lips slowly pressed down against hers. Softly at first. He didn’t want to rush exploring the sweetness of her mouth. She parted her lips, an invitation for him to push further. He bit down on her lower lip. Sylvie pushed her body closer against his in response. Her fingernails raked against his bare shoulders. The beautiful professor had a bit of a naughty side. This was going to be a fun exploration.

  Wade deepened the kiss but kept his hands firmly on the counter. He wanted to explore every inch of her beautiful body, but tormenting Sylvie by making her wait thrilled him more. Her hands traveled down his back. She lifted his white undershirt. The warmth of her skin on his own sent a shiver down his body. She lifted his shirt up further. Wade took the hint and quickly discarded the shirt. Her fingertips trailed up and down his abdomen and chest. Their lips never parted. At that exact moment, he understood the song Hot For Teacher. His body burned for teacher. Yearned for teacher. Ached for teacher.