All I get is her dark-eyed death stare like nothing could get her to relent, not even Napoleon himself marching into her territory.
Then again, she did say that thing about not being conquered.
I tuck my hands in the back pockets of my jeans and turn up the volume on my swagger by one increment. That’s usually all it takes for a woman to fall into my arms.
Her nostrils flare. Otherwise, she doesn’t move a muscle.
Another moment passes. A stand-stare-off double whammy. We’re both vying for the alpha position to determine who’ll be the pack leader.
“Sit down,” she commands.
“Feisty...” My gaze turns hard and I hold out my hand for her to fetch my phone and give it back to me.
Fearlessly and relentlessly, her eyes remain locked on me, but she ignores my wordless request.
I click my tongue. “I see this has turned into a battle of the wills. Thing is, I never back down. I might circle the wagons and come back later, but in the end, my endurance is unmatched and I always win.”
She draws a deep breath and her shoulders shift back slightly. “Well, Mr. Wolfe, I regret to inform you that this isn’t a game, so there is no winning or losing. It’s my understanding that your time here is the result of a poor decision. I urge you to make a better one, now and for the next thirty days, so you don’t face expulsion from your team. Please take a seat.”
“Touché.” I rake my hand through my long hair.
I rarely have to negotiate with a woman to get what I want. Granted, in this situation, she has a considerable amount of power because she’ll report to Hammer if I’m being disagreeable. Given the coach’s ultimatum about being kicked off the team, I don’t dare ruin anything for the other guys. For now, I’ll play along, because this dark-eyed beauty is mistaken.
This is a game and I will win. No, I’ll conquer.
7
CONNOR
The plan is to toe the line of obeying the rules here at reform school while pushing my teacher to the edge. Thing is, when she falls over, I’ll be the one to catch her.
Our standoff continues until she speaks. “Mr. Wolfe, rule number one. No phone during lessons.” Her voice is low, smoky, and accented.
“What do I have to do to make you give me back my phone?”
“You may have your phone back at the end of our session.”
“And why is that?”
“My classroom, my rules. The phone is a distraction. When you are in here, your focus is on me and our lessons.”
...And she’s angsty.
I like it.
Nor do I mind the idea of focusing on her—at least when she isn’t being a shrew. That makes me seem like a dog. Maybe I am, at least some of the time, but I’m well aware that if I let a woman know I’m a nice guy, then she’ll want more than a good time. Words likerelationshipandcommitmentmake me squirm.
I’m a lone wolf and intend to stay that way.
I kick my feet up on the table again. If I can’t have my phone, I may as well be comfortable.
“Sit up,” she commands.
I rock back and hammock my hands behind my head. “No thanks,” I add, just to play the polite game.
With surprising strength, she sweeps my feet to the floor. Off-balance, I nearly fall out of the chair.
“You are not a wet noodle.”
