Page 7 of Wild Skies

Would it be such a terrible idea?

“Professor Carter,” a group of my students call, whooping and climbing all over each other. “You have to get in here!”

Maren doesn’t call out to me. After my careful avoidance of her over the last three days, she barely even looks at me. She’s facing the opposite bank, sunk down to her shoulders in the water, floating calmly while the others roughhouse.

One of the guys brushes past her again, tugging playfully on her braid, and when Maren glances up at him… she’s blushing.

My hands move without instruction from my brain, flicking the top few buttons of my shirt open. Whoops echo from the river, but I barely hear them. There’s too much static fuzzing up my brain; too much blood rushing in my ears.

Does Maren like that guy? Tommy, I think his name is. Is she into him?

My shirt drops in a messy pile on the bank, next to a heap of my students’ clothes. A cool spring breeze washes over my bare chest, so welcome in the hot sunshine. My boots are next, kicked off unceremoniously as I keep staring unblinking at the river.

Tommy splashes her again, flicking a few droplets right at Maren’s nose. She laughs and waves him away, but he’s inching closer, hunkered down in the water.

You know, I felt like an idiot when I dressed in swim trunks instead of underwear this morning, but now I’m glad I hedged my bets. My belt buckle clinks, and my pants drop, and then I’m striding across the spongy grass to the water’s edge.

“Cannonball!” Rex yells, but I ignore him, slipping into the river with barely a ripple, my teeth gritting at the sudden shock of icy cold.

Goosebumps pebble across my bare skin, and my toes are already prickling and going numb. It’s freezing in this river, and it slaps me awake—stops me from prowling over to Maren and Tommy like some territorial animal and tearing them apart.

Instead, gut clenched, I splash river water on my face and try to calm my racing pulse. It doesn’t really work, but it’s enough to keep me rooted in place, far from Maren and Tommy.

“Heads up,” someone calls, then the ball spirals in my direction again. It slams into my hands, spraying droplets everywhere, and I don’t know who threw it this time but I’m so fucking grateful for the distraction. Maren and Tommy arestillswimming near each other, and I can’t tell whether she wants him closer or wants him gone.

Christ, I hope she wants him gone. If she makes even the tiniest noise of unhappiness, I’ll be over there so fast their heads will spin.

Muscles flexing, I toss the ball into the crowd of students.

On and on we play, throwing the ball back and forth, all of the students so eager for my attention that it would be sweet if I weren’t losing my sanity. All I can focus on is Maren. She’s still facing the opposite bank, still floating peacefully while Tommy tries to coax her into playing, and I’m not sure that she even knows that I’m in the water.

Would Maren care? Would she swim over? Or is she done with me after being ignored for three days?

I only did that to protect her from my own shitty self control—but it’s hard to remember why that mattered so much right now, with my heartbeat booming in my ears.

Every instinct in my brain, every cell in my body, is in full agreement right now: Maren Olsen ismine.And Tommy is too close, too bold, too boyishly handsome for me to stand. My teeth grind together as I catch the ball again, and I’m burning up so much in my agitation that soon I’m gonna heat this whole river into a warm bath.

Finally, after what feels like a geological age, Maren glances back over her shoulder. When she sees me bare-chested in the water, her blue eyes go wide.

And—thatis a blush. Hell yes. She’s not the faint pink color she went when Tommy tugged her braid, not when she looks at me. Now, my girl is bright crimson red, and it’s so fucking cute that I want to slam my head against the rocky river bank.

Maren spins fully to face me. Tommy’s still trying to talk to her, but she’s not even listening.

Poor guy. I’d feel sorry for him if the territorial animal inside me weren’t still growling.

“Professor!”

I catch the ball easily and toss it back without looking, then sink down and start swimming toward Maren. Already, there are a few whispers carried on the breeze; a few weird looks making the back of my neck itch.

But right now, with another guy sniffing around Maren, I don’t care.

Self control is overrated anyway.

Five

Maren

Ican’t believe Professor Carter is in the river, looking like a modern day Adonis with that sculpted chest. All the other guys look young and half-cooked next to him—like puppies beside a full grown dog. They’re jostling for his attention, yelling out and splashing each other, but right now, Professor Carter only has eyes forme.

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