Page 66 of Taming His Teacher

“You want to know the secret to winning Caleb’s heart?”

I’d nodded, vigorously.Yes, yes I would.

“You bake that kid a batch of your cookies and he’ll be eating them out of the palm of your hand.”

What? “Cookies?”

“Yup.”

“Cookies is all it takes? Man, you Shepherd boys are easy.”

“You’ll have us both on our knees.”

I’d laughed at the idea of Shep on his knees. He’s done it twice and I hope to see him do it once more. Some day. Otherwise, I much prefer to be the one begging.

“I can do cookies.”

And I have. Half a dozen batches of three different kinds. I needed to do something while I was waiting for them to get back from Shamokin. Shep left crazy early this morning for the six-hour drive. They’ll stay for lunch and then make the six-hour drive back. He’s going to bring Caleb straight to my apartment because I’m cooking dinner. Shep had told me I didn’t have to. “He’ll be just as excited about delivery pizza, Erin, I promise. Maybe more.”

But no. If he’d like cookies, he’s going to love meatloaf. I hope.

I check the clock for the zillionth time. Seven-thirty. They should be here any minute. I pace my hall. Is there anything I forgot? I reserved a bunch of museum passes from the library and I’d been heartbroken to learn Major League Baseball doesn’t start until April. When there’s a knock at my door, I almost expire from nerves. They’re here.

I call “Come in” from halfway down the hall and by the time I’ve reached the door, they’re inside, setting down a familiar duffel bag and an unfamiliar backpack by my door. Shep is his normal delicious self, a little road worn. Standing next to him, skinny and long-haired, is Caleb. They’ve got the same dark blue eyes, but Caleb’s hair is lighter and his features more delicate. Shep claps him on the shoulder. “Caleb, this is my girlfriend, Erin.”

Caleb holds out a hand that’s too big for his body. I should take it, but I can’t help myself. I hug him instead, flinging my arms around his scrawny neck, and I still have to come up on tiptoes. I panic when he goes stiff and unresponsive, but then his arms wrap around my ribs and he gives me a squeeze, quick and awkward. I take it the Shepherds aren’t much for hugs.

I let go and step back. “Hi, Caleb. Sorry, I’ve been waiting for you since your brother said you were coming. I’m glad you’re here.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. I cooked. I hope you like meatloaf.”

Shep ruffles his kid brother’s hair. “She usually makes me peanut butter and jelly, so this is a big deal.”

Did he have to say that? I mean, it’s true, but… Oh, no.

I run to the oven and when I open the door, smoke billows out.No!I open the windows, hoping the smoke alarms won’t go off. Nothing could possibly be more embarrassing. “Well, I tried to make you meatloaf.”

* * *

Shep

Poor Erin. Her sweet, crestfallen face. I bet she forgot all about setting a timer because she’s been so excited about Caleb coming. I told her this was too much but she was determined. Now she’s heartbroken and she might cry. I walk over to where she’s frantically trying to wave the smoke through an open window with a dishtowel.

“Hey.” She’s still flailing the damp cotton flag of defeat and her eyes are welling. I grab her above the elbows and she slumps, giving up. “It’s all right, lamb.”

“It’s not. I wanted to do something nice and now I’ve screwed everything up. Caleb’s going to think I’m an idiot.”

“No, love. He’s going to think you aren’t a very good cook and I’ll have to agree with him.”

She chokes a pathetic laugh and looks up. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I know how to make this all better.”

“You do?”

“Hey, Caleb.” He glances up from where he’s still standing at the door, toeing a too-worn sneaker into the welcome mat, dark eyes under hair that needs a cut. “How do you feel about cookies for dinner?”

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