Page 11 of Wicked Ends (Hellions of Hade Harbor #4)

Arianna

A knock at the door woke me instead of my phone alarm.

I stumbled out of bed and wrenched open the door in a daze. Earl stood there.

“I’m sorry for waking you. I know you were starting work today, and being that it’s eight-thirty, I thought?—”

“It’s eight-thirty?!” Panic flooded me.

“Sure is.”

“My alarm didn’t go off! I’m late!” I stared at Earl, frozen with fear for a second.

“Well, best get a move on, I reckon,” Earl said. “You can make it if you hustle.”

His words broke through the paralysis gluing me to the floor, and I snapped into action.

After the fastest shower known to man, I threw on the outfit I’d left over my chair the night before, shoving my feet into shoes, and grabbed my purse, throwing things into it like a woman possessed.

Approximately four minutes later, I was in the car and heading to campus.

I’d already figured out the route over the weekend, and now, I went as fast as I dared.

I parked near the staff entrance to the music school.

I had my notes for this class. The topics I was teaching that day were as familiar to me as my own name.

Well, my real one anyway. Music had always been my passion, though I hadn’t always expected to teach it.

Once, I’d dreamed of playing in front of full auditoriums.

A rush of memory hit me as I got out of the car and walked across the gravel lot. I could feel it for a second: burning-hot stage lights, the heavy feeling of makeup on my cheeks, and the expectant silence of hundreds of people watching and waiting for me.

I entered the music school and smiled at the security guard.

“I don’t have a security pass yet,” I explained.

He clicked on his computer. “Name?”

“Anna Moore,” I said, only a little stilted. I’d had months to get used to this name, and it still felt like an obvious lie.

“I’ve got you,” the guard said. “Go and see Mrs. Lewis, the receptionist, when you have time, and she’ll have your ID badge made up.”

“Okay, great, thanks.” I smiled at him and headed along the busy corridor. It felt strange as hell to be in an academic setting again. There was a tinge of nostalgia for the days when I’d been a carefree student. That feeling hadn’t lasted long, however.

More than anything, there were crippling nerves about making this work. Hade Harbor University was a dream job, and sure, I only had the smallest toe in the door, but if I could make this work, it would change everything for me.

Students were everywhere. The music school at Hade Harbor was one of their highly acclaimed programs, second only to sports.

Students from all over the country came here to study music theory, stagecraft, and instruments of their choice.

And now, I was part of it all. It was more than I’d ever thought I’d have.

I carefully pushed through the students clogging the hallway right outside my classroom. I felt small in the crowd. I’d never been tall, but at a school like HHU where there were so many athletes wandering around, I felt positively tiny.

“Excuse me,” I said to someone’s back. I only came up to the bottom of his shoulders, so that was humbling, and the guy made a better wall than anything else.

Trying not to touch anyone, I slid around his back. He turned away from the door, deep in conversation with a girl in a cheerleading uniform.

Finally, I broke free of the crush and entered the classroom. Most of the students for my morning class were settled in their seats. I gave a quick smile and hustled down the middle aisle, put my bag on the desk, then took my first deep breath since I’d woken up late.

I was here. Everything was fine. I had this.

I wiped my sweating palms on my skirt, then dug in my bag for the bottle of water I’d brought.

I went to stand at the lectern and stuffed my nerves down.

I could do this. I was here. I knew the subject, it was my subject, my lifelong passion.

I could do this, and no one could ruin it.

I checked my watch. It was time for the students to sit down and get ready for class to start. The stragglers at the door continued to chat. The big guy and his little cheerleader friend didn’t seem in a hurry to get to class.

When a minute passed and they still hadn’t moved, I decided this was my chance to start out strong. I strode up the aisle, heading for the open door.

“Class is starting. Are you coming or going?” I asked the couple, hand poised on the door, ready to close it in their faces.

“Take it easy, Professor,” a deep voice said.

I froze.

Everything seemed to slow as the big guy in a sleeveless black T-shirt and shorts pivoted, his dark wavy hair flopping wetly over his tanned forehead. His bag had a hockey stick shoved in the back. The guy screamed jock, and his voice was terrifyingly familiar.

Slowly, I brought my eyes up to his face. A fist clenched my heart.

I met Marcus’ eyes.

Marcus. The hot bartender.

A student? No, no, no. Genuine fear laced down my spine.

His gaze landed on me, a similar shock in his eyes, and then it was gone. His head tilted to the side.

“What did you ask me? Am I coming or going?”

His deep voice held a tone of mocking I could only hope no one else noticed.

He stepped past me and leaned down, bringing his mouth to my ear.

“I’m coming, I’m definitely coming .”

I jerked away from him and turned shakily, practically running down the stairs to the sunken lectern.

My face grew hot and itchy. My lungs were cramped, and it was hard to breathe.

I got to the lectern and looked at the class. I felt like everyone could see what I’d done.

Glancing up, I realized that Marcus hadn’t taken his seat yet. He was standing in the middle of the aisle where I’d left him. Once my eyes met his, he sauntered forward. Maybe he’d sit in the back and disappear, and I could forget he was there.

I could forget what I’d done.

Nope. I’d never forget it. I’d slept with a student. My new start at HHU, in this perfect little town, was over before it had begun.

Tears threatened to spill over, but I blinked them away and picked up the roster, a printed piece of paper on the lectern.

With a shaky voice, I called out the names. There were only a few before I came to him.

“Marcus Bailey,” I said in a croak.

Marcus took his time to answer, still sauntering down the steps, oozing confidence, and then he made his way to the open seat right in front of my desk. He sank down and smirked at me.

“Present.”

I tore my eyes from the dark mocking in his gaze and focused on the rest of the class. I had to hold it together, somehow. I had to. I had to get through the class, and I could freak out after.

Yes, good plan.

“Today, we are going to continue where you left off, studying classical forms, specifically sonatas and their transformations in later eras,” I said, my voice still shaking.

Marcus put his hand up.

Damn it.

“Yes?” I asked in his general direction without meeting his eyes.

“Aren’t you going to introduce yourself, Professor? I’m sure everyone is dying to know who our new teacher is.”

His deep drawl sent embarrassment flooding through me. Damn it, he was right. I was so flustered I hadn’t even introduced myself.

I plastered on a professional, pleasant smile and nodded.

“Of course, that was remiss of me. My name is Ms. Moore. Anna Moore.”

“ Ms. Anna Moore. Anna?” Marcus repeated loudly, seeming amused at the change in name.

Crap. I waited to see if he was going to push me on it. He wasn’t finished.

“Is that Miss or Mrs.? Or maybe some new-age way of hiding your marital status?”

I risked a glance at him, my cheeks only burning hotter.

“What are you asking, Mr. Bailey?” I demanded, my gaze immediately fixing to his.

He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “I’m asking if you’re married, Professor.”

A titter of laughter went up around the room. God.

I stood up straighter and took a deep breath. I had to calm the fuck down.

“That isn’t necessary information to take this class. I promise it won’t be on the final exam.” I gave him a swift smile and was rewarded with more laughter. “Any more questions?”

Marcus’ hand shot up again. Fuck me.

“Yes, Mr. Bailey?”

“What are your qualifications to teach this class? I mean, you seem young for a professor,” he drawled.

I took another deep breath and nodded. “I’m reasonably young, but not tenured, so I’m nothing out of the ordinary. I graduated last year with my master’s in music and I have plenty of personal experience with performing…”

Marcus had his damn phone out and tilted his head.

“No socials? Are you a serial killer on the run?”

Chuckles rang out around the room again.

A killer on the run.

A killer on the run.

He had no idea.

I gripped the sides of the lectern and pasted another pleasant smile on my face.

“I don’t think anyone needs to care about the private lives of their teachers. Just know that music has been my entire life for as long as I can remember. Does that qualify me to teach you, Mr. Bailey?”

Marcus grinned. “I guess it depends on the subject. Music, sure. Teach me, Ms. Moore.”

Heat washed through me, followed immediately by shame. The other night and the confident, wisecracking, hockey-stick-wielding bartender were too fresh in my head, warring with this student sitting here and teasing me.

“Thank you.” I tried to summon my best silencing glare.

Marcus only chuckled.

Giving up on getting him to stop heckling me, I launched into the lecture. “Now, sonatas. You’ve already studied Mozart and Beethoven. Today, I want to look at the more modern reworkings. We will start with Prokofiev. Split into groups of three. You will all map a different form section.”

Someone behind Marcus spoke to him, asking him to be in their group, and the loss of his attention felt like a relief. Like a burning spotlight had been turned from my face.

I checked that everyone had gotten into groups and went around, handing out sheets for them to write on.