Page 39 of Molly's Mr. Wrong
The thought of once again getting involved with Blake made her feel sick. Never again would she be used by some slick operator who, when push came to shove, put his needs above hers.
Done. Finis.
Late for class.
Molly grabbed a handful of saltines for later and raced out the door. Georgina was studying with a friend, so she hadn’t bothered with dinner, which was just as well, because her stomach was a tight little ball right now.
You are in control. He cannot force his way into your life.
But just the fact that he was giving it a shot was enough to put her in a bad mood. Having to park in the far reaches of the parking lot when she was already late didn’t help matters.
She yanked her purse out of the backseat once she’d found a spot, jumped out of the car and started jogging toward the building, locking the car as she ran. She hated being late and she hated that Blake still had the power to screw up her life.
* * *
MOLLYWASLATEfor class.
Finn leaned back in his chair and fiddled with his pencil, thinking of how this would have been his dream situation in high school—the instructor not showing—but right now he was concerned about the instructor. Molly wasn’t the type to be late.
Know-it-all Denny began wondering aloud how long they needed to wait before the class could be considered canceled. Debra had just said she thought fifteen minutes seemed reasonable when Molly rushed in through the door. She almost skidded to a stop, then lifted her chin and continued on to the front of the room in a more dignified manner.
“I apologize,” she said as she walked briskly to the lectern and set down her purse. When she turned back, she appeared calm and collected, her expression bordering on serene, but Finn saw tension in the way she held her body, the way her smile was just that much too tight. “We can go ten minutes longer tonight if you want.”
A general murmur arose from the class, indicating that once it hit eight o’clock most of her adult students wanted to head home.
“I understand. It won’t happen again.”
Finn wondered what “it” was as Molly started her lesson. Whatever “it” was, it was still on her mind. She was trying too hard to act as if all were well, and Finn was startled by an upwelling of protectiveness.
Really?
Maybe it was because she looked exactly as he felt when he had to pretend everything was fine when it wasn’t. Maybe he didn’t want her going through that.
Molly circulated around the room and Finn had one hell of a time keeping his mind on the reading instead of on her. He repeated the first paragraph about six times before moving on. When she stopped to point something out to Denny, who was already on the written part of the assignment, the guy started to talk about a little-known rule that made him right and Molly wrong. Denny droned on until Molly said that he could do whatever he wanted, but that he’d be graded byThe Chicago Manual of Style.
“What aboutThe Cambridge Handbook?” Denny challenged in a snotty voice.
Almost everyone in the class had stopped writing by this point, but a few people were polite enough to keep their eyes on their papers and pretend to work. Finn was one of them, untilThe Cambridge Handbookcame up, whatever that was. He sat up straight, watching the confrontation through narrowed eyes.
“If we were in Great Britain that would work well.” Molly smiled sweetly. “Unfortunately, we are in Montana.”
“Humph,” Denny said in a tone that indicated he didn’t agree. “What I’m doing is correct.”
“Noted. I will mark you accordingly.”
And then when Denny realized he had nothing else to bitch about, he looked vaguely dissatisfied.
“You got your way. Now can you please be quiet so that the rest of us can work?” Debra asked in a weary voice.
Denny turned to eyeball Debra, but instead met Finn’s deadly gaze from where he sat directly behind her. Finn lifted one eyebrow in silent challenge and Denny started to color, then turned back around. Message received.
Finn went back to work, and a few seconds later, pens started moving again all over the classroom.
Pompous nitwit.Finn gritted his teeth.
After reading the paragraphs, he started making an outline of what he’d just read—Molly had shown them today how to work backward, read and then dissect, in order to see how essays were put together. He was trying his damnedest to do just that, even if it took a while to identify and then translate the main idea of each paragraph into words.
Molly continued to circulate, pausing briefly at Finn’s desk to see what he was doing, then moving on. It was as if she didn’t know him. And that was probably best. Denny was still red around the edge of his collar, but he let Molly pass by unmolested and Molly did herself a favor by barely glancing at the guy’s work. Denny gave a loud sniff as she headed on to the next student.
