“Jarrod,” I warned.

“What?” Jarrod grimaced at me. “He’s being a dick.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to lower yourself to his level.”

Jack’s chair thudded to the ground. “You calling me a dick, Miss?”

I gave him a lengthy stare in answer. Jarrod relaxed, chuckling in triumph at Jack.

Jack flushed, but fortunately the bell rang before I could receive his sure-to-be-disrespectful retort.

As the kids got up to leave, I called Jarrod over to my desk, something that seemed to be becoming a regular occurrence. He swaggered over to me with his cocky assuredness, grinning at me. “If you’re going to give me a row, don’t bother.”

I raised my eyebrows at him. “Don’t bother because you know you were in the wrong?”

He shrugged. “I just said what you wanted to say.”

That was so terribly true it took everything in me not to give that fact away. “Jarrod, the point is that you’re a bright kid, and a good kid, and you need to learn to stop retaliating against idiots who aren’t worth it. Keep your lips sealed and walk away.”

“From who? Ryan and Mr. Rutherford?” he sneered.

I shrugged this time, and Jarrod smiled as if he knew I agreed with him. I wanted him to rein in that temper of his so guys like Jack Ryan and Rutherford didn’t get the best of him. I said this to him and he stared at the floor thoughtfully.

A few seconds of contemplation passed, and since I didn’t want him to feel like I was coming down on him all the time, I pushed another topic. “Did you look at my notes on your personal essay?”

He nodded.

“Making any progress?”

“I suppose so.”

“As good as it is, I just feel it would have more impact if the reader had insight into your parents and their influence on your relationship with your brother.”

Jarrod’s eyes hardened. “Well, it’s just Mum, me, and the wee man. Dad bolted just after my brother was born.”

Feeling instantly uncomfortable and knowing I couldn’t really say anything helpful since I fortunately didn’t have personal insight into parents who abandoned their children, I offered a lame “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He shrugged with fake nonchalance.

“It does. Try writing it in. It might help.”

He rolled his eyes, giving me a sad smile. “See, why did you have to go spoil a perfectly nice moment with the personal essay crap, Miss Nichols?”

Giving him a look that told him I didn’t buy his pretense at cool, I opened my mouth to dismiss him just as a loud knock on my open classroom doorway drew our gazes.

I sucked in my breath, my body freezing in shock.

Filling the entire doorway was Marco. He was wearing a dark fleece hoodie and dark jeans tucked into construction boots. My eyes flew back up to his face, and I felt that painful wince in my chest at his handsomeness.

What the hell was he doing here?

Jarrod sensed the sudden tension. “You okay, Miss Nichols?” His eyes swung to Marco and instantly narrowed in suspicion.

My heart racing, I turned to my student and attempted to sound calm as I replied, “I’m fine. I’ll see you next class, Jarrod.”

“I can stay,” he said stubbornly.

I smiled at his protectiveness but shook my head. “I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t seem convinced or too happy about leaving me with the large, brooding man in the doorway, but he gave me a chin lift in good-bye and strode across the room, his eyes holding Marco’s in warning despite Marco’s size.

Marco watched him leave, his gaze following him out of the classroom. When Jarrod was out of sight, he turned back to me with an amused look in his gorgeous eyes. “You’ve got a loyal one there.”

No, no. There would be no pleasantries in this ambush. “What are you doing here?”

At my question, determination swept across his face and he walked into the room, somehow managing to fill the entire space with his more powerful than ever presence. I watched warily as he came to a stop a few feet from me. “Nish left my name with Reception so I could get in. My foreman let me cut out of work early. I was guessing that my only chance to see you would be in school.”

My pulse was literally throbbing, probably visibly in my neck, so I was glad I was wearing my hair loose. As dogged as he was in his attempts to talk, I was equally determined to prove he didn’t affect me. I stuck my chin out stubbornly. “Why? I told you I’m not interested in anything you have to say.”

He shrugged, jamming his hands in his jeans. “I think your attitude suggests otherwise.”

I glowered. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

If that was a lip twitch of amusement I was going to kill him. He waved two fingers in the direction of my forehead and its frown lines. “That does.”

Time to change tactics. “Why the hell do you want to talk? You hate talking.”

Marco chuckled. “I’m not that guy anymore, Hannah. I just want a chance to explain that. But also to explain the past. And apologize for it.”

There was a part of me that was desperate to give in, like I would have done when I was a kid, eager for his respect and affection. But I wasn’t her anymore. He’d helped see to that. I leaned back against my desk and crossed my arms over my chest. “You’re sorry?”

His eyes glittered with obvious remorse. “Of course.”

“And you once did genuinely care about me?”

Something else entered his eyes, something more intense. His voice was deeper as he answered, “Yes.”