“You make that sound like a bad thing.”
Michael snorted. “Will you still have time to work on your thesis?”
“I’ll find the time. It’s soccer, Michael. I’m going to have a blast. It’s not like I can’t use the exercise, former Officer Sexy. Gotta keep the arm candy sweet, right?”
“I know, Sparky. The porn fairy and the predictable Mr. Truax. I wonder if your students realize that their science teacher is such a wild card.”
“I can assure you, they don’t. Hey,” Tristan said, his eyes going serious all of a sudden. “Regrets?”
“Never,” said Michael. He met Tristan’s blue eyes squarely with his own. “Never, Tristan.”
Tristan breathed out, clearly relieved. “Have time for a quickie before I go back to work?”
“Oh, hell, no, Tristan.” Michael laughed. “The things you say.”
Michael watched as Tristan got into his BMW. “All right, then.” Tristan waved. “I’ll be home at about nine-thirty.”
“Okay.” Michael waved. “I’ll be waiting.”
THE END
Z. A. Maxfield
Z. A. Maxfield is a fifth generation native of Los Angeles, although she now lives in the O.C. She started writing in 2006 on a dare from her children and never looked back. Pathologically disorganized, and perennially optimistic, she writes as much as she can, reads as much as she dares, and enjoys her time with family and friends. If anyone asks her how a wife and mother of four manages to find time for a writing career, she’ll answer, “It’s amazing what you can do if you completely give up housework.”
Check out her website at http://www.zamaxfield.com.
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