Page 67 of Taming His Teacher

“Cookies?”

“Yeah, just don’t tell Mom, okay?”

His face breaks out in a huge grin. “No problem. What kind of cookies?”

Just like that, the night is saved. Erin wipes her eyes and heads over to pick up a couple of plates piled high with her day’s work. “I made chocolate chip, pumpkin, and sugar cookies. I didn’t know what kind you’d like.”

Caleb’s eyes have gone the size of softballs at the sight of the feast before him. “Do you have any milk?”

“Of course.” She sets down the plates on the table and goes back to pour three glasses of milk. When she gets back, Caleb’s already thrown himself into a chair and is stuffing a sugar cookie into his mouth with one hand and picking up a chocolate chip with the other.

“God, Caleb. At least wait for a plate.”

But Erin’s not appalled by his terrible table manners. She looks delighted as she hands out plates for us to devour our dinner over.

* * *

Erin

It’s a good thing I made so many cookies. Caleb ate half of them. No wonder—he’s too skinny. One of my goals is to fatten him up while he’s here, even if I have to do it with takeout. I’m never going to cook anything again.

When I’m confident Caleb’s wolfed down enough cookies to feed a small village and they’ve told me about their trip, I excuse myself because along with forgetting to set a timer for the meatloaf, I also forgot to use the bathroom.

When I’m coming back, I hear them chatting from the hall. I shouldn’t, but I can’t help but slow down and listen to them. Their voices are so similar, but Shep’s is deeper, slower, tinged with knowing while Caleb’s is bright and fast, the not-quite-broken of a thirteen-year-old’s.

“I like her.”

“Good. Me, too.”

“I could tell.”

“Yeah? You an expert?”

“No. But I’m not clueless.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You told me she smelled like flowers.”

My heart melts at his insulted insistence. Shep’s told him about me? That I smelled like flowers?

“She does.”

“Yeah, but she smells like cookies, too. Cookiesandflowers. You’re a lucky man.”

I clap my hands over my mouth to keep from laughing. It’s the same urge I get when any of the boys say something that adult that earnestly.

“I am.”

I can’t take any more; I’m going to die of happiness listening to them so I finish my trip down the hall, making my feet fall louder than I usually would. “Could I interest you boys in some Wii bowling?”

The rest of the week is a similar mix of disaster and wonderfulness. In all honesty, when Shep had told me Caleb was coming for the first week of spring break, I’d been peeved. That was supposed to be our week of decadence and debauchery before he had to leave for Florida, and his brother would definitely put the kibosh on all that.

But getting to know Caleb and seeing how happy he is to get some attention and affection, not to mention endless food, is something I’m more than willing to trade a week of frustration for. He horks it down like a kid who’s never quite had enough to eat. It occurs to me one night while he’s on thirds of over-cooked spaghetti, sauce from a jar, and meatballs from the freezer, that maybe he hasn’t. I knew Shep’s family didn’t have a lot of money, but maybe it was direr than I thought.

* * *

Shep

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