Page 97 of Molly's Mr. Wrong
“But this will ruin his GPA.” Mrs. Simon sounded horrified.
“I’m sure he has time to fix this, if he chooses to apply himself.” For the first time ever, Molly saw the dean’s usually mild expression go stern. “He’s not, you know. And I’m saying this with Jonas’s best interests at heart. This is community college. If he goes to a four-year school next year with this same work ethic...”
The dean suddenly clammed up, as if realizing he may be screwing up the next campus land donation. He put a hand up to his mouth and gave a slight cough. “Transition is always a challenge and Jonas is young.”
Molly kept her mouth shut, knowing they were looking for something, anything, to jump on, in order to remove the blame for Jonas’s performance from Jonas himself.
“What about that other student?” Mr. Simon demanded. “The one getting the false marks?”
“Federal law prohibits me from discussing that matter with anyone other than the student and the instructors.”
Mrs. Simon gathered her purse. “I suppose you also don’t care that Jonas was threatened yesterday.”
“Threatened? That’s a serious accusation.”
Mr. Simon gave his wife a nudge and Mrs. Simon lifted her chin. “I think we’ve received all the satisfaction we can expect.” She got to her feet. “We will, of course, be discussing the matter with Dr. Womack.”
The dean nodded. “Of course.”
He waited until the door was closed behind the Simons before muttering, “Tell him I said hi.”
Molly waited until Luis Cortez had left before rising to her feet and coming to stand in front of the dean’s desk. “Will this incident affect my professional evaluation?”
“There will be a record, but no.”
Relief made her knees feel a little wobbly. “Thank you.”
“No,” he said softly. “Thank you. Keep fighting the good fight.”
Molly nodded and left his office, carrying with her the uncomfortable feeling that she was getting better at running away than fighting. And that didn’t make her feel very proud.
Molly thanked her lucky stars that the hallway was now empty as she started for the entrance, so she didn’t have to pretend to be unaffected by the meeting.
You wanted to teach.
Her head was throbbing by the time she made her way to her car—one of the few in the nearly empty lot. Most people, with the exception of Luis Cortez and Allie, whom she’d heard in the art studio, and the dean, were eating dinner with their families. Soon she’d be home deep into a bag of potato chips. Unless Georgina was there. Then it would be something healthy, chased by potato chips.
Parked next to her car was a low-slung sports car that had seen better days. A perfect student fixer-upper, not old enough to be classic, but not new enough to be cool. Molly had just noticed the Arizona plates when the door opened and the bane of her existence stepped out onto the pavement. Molly was so stunned that all she could do was think that this was perfect timing on Blake’s part, because she’d just been wondering how her day could get worse.
Blake was still beautiful. Tall, very muscular, chiseled features. Pretty damned close to perfect. Even the strands of premature gray that threaded through his dark hair made him look hotter.
Molly was so very done with hot. Hot dulled her protective instincts.
“Good to see you, Blake. Did you bring the check for the house?”
He smiled at her and he was watching her closely, as he did when he was about to work things. “Not yet.”
“How’s Butte?” Other than too damned close.
“Not what I expected. There’s, like, a copper mine in the middle of town.”
“It’s a pit, I believe.” Molly closed her mouth then and waited—waited for Blake to explain why he was here in person, upsetting her life yet again. It was amazing how the guy who had once been the center of her world now made her feel so angry—more at herself than at him. Not that she wasn’t still plenty pissed at him. It was as if he were the incarnation of all the mistakes she’d made after leaving home.
No—that was exactly what he was. Mistakes she would not repeat.
“I have to admit to being mystified as to why you’re here. Why you sent me flowers.”
“So you got the message?”
