Page 9 of Eight Years Gone

“Great.” Like always, he walked in, big, broad, and hot, bringing his freshly showered scent with him as he pulled out the chair she’d left at the side of her desk for him.

His dark-blond hair was damp, and he wore one of the sweatpants and muscle shirt combinations he typically changed into once he got home.

She sent him a friendly smile, pretending that she didn’t notice the hints of five o’clock stubble along his strong jaw or the way his shirt accentuated his excellent biceps and shoulders. “How was practice?”

He nodded. “Good. We’re ready for Friday night.”

“Good.” She focused on the next quadratic equation she needed to solve. Mr. Wright had said there would be several on tomorrow’s exam.

Jagger sighed as he opened his laptop, then tipped back in his chair, locking his hands behind his head. “You wouldn’t happen to want to write a four-page English paper, would you?”

She began assigning her values to the quadratic formula. “I already wrote a four-page English paper, so I don’t know why I would want to write another one. Plus, we’ve already established that I’m not doing your homework.”

He shrugged. “If you never ask, the answer’s always no.”

“Well, in this case, you shouldn’t bother because it’s never going to happen.”

He sent her another one of his yummy grins.

She held his dark-blue gaze, forever trying to figure him out. He never had a whole lot to say. And he always played it cool—like he didn’t give a crap about much of anything.

But over the last nine weeks, she’d caught on to the fact that he was smarter than he let on. Today she’d gotten proof when she snuck a peek at the letter she’d found crumpled in the kitchen trash.

It had been a two-page explanation of the results of the standardized test he’d taken at the public school he attended his freshman year. He’d scored off the charts—in the nation’s top one percent. Pennsylvania’s governor had sent a personalized letter of congratulations to keep up the great work.

Looking down at her notebook, she got back to work, clenching her jaw when she realized she’d solved the problem wrong. Again. “Damn it.” She tossed her pencil down. “Why can’t I get this one right?”

Jagger dropped his chair back to the carpet, leaning closer. “What’s up?”

“I don’t know. This is the third time I’ve solved this one wrong. I get a different answer every time.”

He frowned as he studied her work. “You’re forgetting to solve for zero first.” He pointed out her error on the page. “You’ve assigned your values for A, B, and C, but you need to make this a negative seven before you do anything else.”

It was her turn to frown as she worked the problem out the way he’d explained. And she got the right answer.

“See? There you go. Solve for zero first. It’s a game changer.”

She stared at him. “You nodded off during the entire class. I watched your chin hit your chest several times.”

“Mr. Wright’s boring.”

Her frown returned. “You’re smart. Why do you spend so much time pretending you’re not?”

He jerked his shoulders, tipping back in his chair again. “Because then people start expecting stuff.”

She swallowed her annoyance as she stood, heading for the door. Over the last few weeks, he’d shown her little glimpses of a different version of himself—the guy whose eyes lit up whenever he talked about taekwondo or cracked an excellently witty joke.

That Jagger was irresistible and distracting. That Jagger made her want to forget about her camera for a while and get lost in him—something that had never happened before. But this guy wasn’t worth her time. “I’m done for now.”

His chair rested on all four legs again. “Where are you going?”

She didn’t bother sparing him a look. “I need a break.”

“Grace, come back.”

She kept walking.

“Gracie.”

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