Page 11 of Falling for the Quarterback

When it’s finally his turn, his lips twitch in what we British term a cheeky grin.

“Good morning,ProfessorButler,” he drawls, drawing out my name. “I’m Joel Henderson, but everyone calls me Hendy.”

Someone interrupts from behind with a, “Go, Hendy!” and my brows shoot up as I follow the sound with my gaze. When they return to Hendy…I mean…Joel…I mean,ugh…

Joel, er, Hendy laughs, glancing over his shoulder with a wave.

“Sorry, Professor. We have a lot of football fans on campus. I’m originally from Rivers Crossing, just twenty miles from here. I’m in this class because it’s part of my graduate program.” That crooked, sexy smile of his peeks out and my knees nearly buckle. “Lucky me, I hear you’re the master on the topic.”

I try not to blush as a few “oohs” fly around the room, which only makes my cheeks heat even hotter in this already warm room.

I force myself to nod and offer my brief response.

“Thank you, Joel. Next…”

My gaze shifts to the student next to him, who gives me her name, but to be honest, I still couldn’t tell you what it was even if I were bound and tortured because I’m not listening.

The hungry perusal of my body by Hendy’s eyes robs me of thought and common sense. I want to escape the scrutiny of his knowing glances, but I have to keep my composure and not let my knickers get in a twist.

When the last student finishes with their introduction, I return to my well-rehearsed lecture and work to keep my eyes off of Hendy.

By the end of the hour-long class, I’m feeling a bit more relaxed and my confidence has made a comeback.

The students file out of the classroom with their assignments for the next class and I return to the podium to turn off the projector and unplug my laptop, clearing my convoluted thoughts of the strange randomness that has occurred with the reemergence of my onetime lover. Poppy is going to have a heyday with this one.

No sooner have I finished packing up when I feel the very heat of him next to me. I know it’s him because I recognize his cedar and ocean scent before I even look up.

Slowly, I lift my gaze to the otherwise empty room, then turn to stare into familiar blue eyes.

“Fancy meeting you here,Lottie.” He doesn’t even try to hide his smirk. “I mean, Professor Butler.”

I give him a pointed look. “Mr. Henderson, I think you and I should have a chat in my office. Immediately.”

He presses his lips together and nods. “Absolutely. Lead the way. I’m all yours.”

This time, I inhale deeply to indulge in the scent of his cologne thanks to his close proximity.

A proximity that I suspect will not change anytime in the near future because he’ll be in my classroom.

Fuck. My. Life.

How do I get myself out of this clusterfuck of a mess?

ChapterFour

Hendy

Very few things or people in my life can catch me off guard and make me fumble, mostly because of my time playing football.

Over the years, beginning back in my peewee football league time, I’ve learned to employ my natural skills of reading people and their potential next moves. I’ve learned how to anticipate plays by judging the field positions so I could dodge and outrun, pivot, or dish the ball with a speed and grace few quarterbacks can muster.

My ability to adapt and remain flexible both on and off the field and in life is what makes me such a fucking great QB.

Or made me one. Past tense since I no longer play.

Butthisplay wasn’t listed in any of my playbooks or experiences with women.

There are no offensive plays or tricks to outmaneuver the quarterback sack I was just hit with when I walked in and saw that Lottie is my new professor.

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