Hissy Fit (Southern Gentleman 1)

I nodded.

“And, just to give you an update on the grievance filed against you, we’ve deemed that it was irrelevant, and if you want your class back, you can have it. However, that being said, I’d suggest letting Coach McDuff finish it for you. If you still want the class next year, it’s yours.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

I wasn’t sure that I wanted it so much as I wanted to finish what I’d started.

“Can I let you know by the end of the day?” I asked hopefully.

She nodded, then stood. “Coach McDuff informed me that you and he are seeing each other.”

I bit my lip, then nodded.

“There’s no policy on dating between teachers, just make sure that you use discretion.” She gave me a wink. “And congrats. I always had a feeling that you and him were going to end up with each other.”

My mouth fell open. “You did?”

She nodded. “It didn’t escape my notice—or anybody’s really—that you had a thing for him. Not in high school, and not now. It’s only escaped his notice, I think.”

I snorted. “Yeah, I agree. Sometimes I want to smack him for how little he noticed me in high school. It’s like this Ezra and that Ezra—the one that he was before he actually ‘saw’ me—are two totally different people.”

She grinned. “Sometimes it happens like that, darling. Now, get to class before you’re late.”

I did get to class, hurrying down the hall to get to my room before the tardy bell rang.

I would’ve made it, too, had I not stopped and stared at the way Coach Casper and Ezra were carrying on in the middle of the hallway outside the gym entrance.

I’d stopped and stared, and then growled when I saw Coach Casper put her hand on Ezra’s arm, smoothing it up and down as if she wanted to do more than just touch.

I suddenly saw red.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I waited for him to notice me.

I don’t know how long it was—possibly an entire minute—before he noticed me, but by the time he did, I was already on plan five of plotting his possible demise.

He suddenly jerked his head up, saw me standing there, and grinned.

Coach Casper turned around to see what he was looking at and scowled.

I would’ve flipped her off had I not just had the discussion with Mrs. Sherpa about my possible behavior.

Instead, I turned on my heels after offering him a solid ‘I’ll kill you’ glare, and then sped off to my class.

I was almost there, pulling the door closed behind me when my belt loop was caught from behind.

I turned and glared over my shoulder.

I knew exactly who it would be, but my heart still gave a little flip at seeing those beautiful eyes and that smug freakin’ bearded face so close to my own.

“What do you want?” I hissed at him.

He grinned. “I wanted to say hi.”

I didn’t believe him.

Not for one second.

“Hey, Coach Duff,” one of the junior varsity players in my class called out. “Is it true that you’re seeing Ms. Crusie?”

Coach ‘Duff’s’ hand went around my waist and he pulled me back against him. “Yep.”

He popped the ‘p’ loudly, exaggerating the syllable loud enough that the students started to snicker.

“I heard you were seeing Coach Casper. How can you be with Coach Casper and Ms. Crusie at the same time?” another student, Rebecca, called out.

That was when I felt my stomach sour.

“Sorry, Becky. I’m not seeing anybody else but this hellion in my arms. Could y’all give us two seconds?” Ezra asked as he started to tug me out of the classroom.

“We guess so, Coach Duff!” another student called.

That one I couldn’t pinpoint who it was, but I had a feeling it was another one of his junior varsity players. The students that didn’t have him as an actual coach called him ‘McDuff’ while his players called him ‘Duff.’ It’d been something I’d recognized as I’d spent more and more time with the man.

The door closed in my face, and I sighed and turned, plastering my back against it. “Yes?”

I was still kind of pissed, but I was losing my ire rather quickly since he’d followed me, left Coach Casper, and then declared himself in front of my first period class.

By noon that’d be all over, that was for sure. Once lunchtime hit, there wouldn’t be a student in the entire school that didn’t know.

“Can I help you?” I asked, trying to hide my non-irritation when he only continued to stare at me with those all too knowing eyes. “I do have a class to teach.”

“Summer is almost here, woman.” He laughed. “You don’t have to teach shit.”

He did have a point. The only thing I really had to do with my class was go over the study guide I’d handed out yesterday, and make sure that they didn’t have any questions. Which, they likely wouldn’t. This was my smart bunch. My all A class that rarely ever needed anything from me other than to run their tests through the automatic scanner.