Twice the Hero by Lori Foster

Author:Lori Foster
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2019-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

October

“So who can tell me the answer to problem fourteen?” Pike asked the half-empty classroom. He had twenty-nine enrolled in this section, but he’d already determined weeks ago that he was lucky if two-thirds of the class showed.

Also, he already knew from marking off homework that most of those in the room didn’t have the work, but hope sprang eternal and all that junk. Hell, it was the same impulse that kept him going with Zack. In the weeks since their hallway encounter, Pike’s hope sensors were on overload thanks to a steady diet of shared meals and increasingly cuddly orgasms.

But hope wasn’t doing a damn thing to help him in the classroom. Predictably, Suzanne’s hand shot up, same as it had on the past dozen problems. She took beginning stats seriously—showing up early each class, color-coded binder at the ready, calculator out, pencils sharpened.

Too bad she was the only one.

“Anyone?” Pike ignored Suzanne’s hand. “How about…” He scanned the list of names, trying to find another awake student. Damn. He shouldn’t have to look at the list this deep into the semester. He should have all the names memorized, except he didn’t. “Jose?”

“What problem again? Five?” Jose blinked, then stretched, arm tats rippling. Hell. Had he been asleep too?

“Fourteen,” Pike said wearily. Damn, how did other professors manage this? Pike struggled to remember if his any of his classes at Berkeley and then later Caltech had been this unresponsive. And even as a teaching assistant, Pike couldn’t remember this many confused and sleeping students. Maybe it was this stupid book. Small print. Terrible explanations, but that was the one he’d been given to teach out of since he’d been hired after the textbook selection deadline, along with the drier-than-high-fiber-cereal syllabus template from one of the permanent faculty members.

“Ah. Fifty-two.” Jose smiled sheepishly, as if he already knew the answer was wrong.

“It’s actually ninety-seven. Let’s talk about how the book got that answer.” Pike went to the white board, grabbing a black marker. What he really wanted was some colorful ones, but he hadn’t figured out yet who to talk to about supplies in the classrooms.

Click. Click. Click. Pike whirled around to discover the source of the strange noise. Damn it. Suzanne’s seatmate, whose name escaped Pike, was knitting. Again. Some sort of socklike thing and it was distracting as all hell, just as much as the guy in the back row with earbuds in, faint sounds of music drifting Pike’s way every so often. Or the kid using his open laptop to stage a silent War Elf battle. Pike could give him some pointers on what he was doing wrong, but even talking to the kid after class hadn’t managed to dissuade him from gaming in class.

“Hey, it’s four thirty!” called a younger guy at the back of the room with three eyebrow rings.

Hell. Only of course Pike couldn’t say that. “See you all on Friday. Don’t forget to do the homework! And Monday there’s a quiz!” That I haven’t written yet.

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