Page 75 of Taming His Teacher

“Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be sure?” He smiles and I purse my lips, nudging his foot under the table. If Shep is anything, it’s confident. Of course he’s sure. But has he really thought this through?

“Because I would kind of be your boss.”

“You wouldn’t kind of be my boss, Erin. You’dbemy boss.”

I flush and something flutters in my chest. “You don’t have a problem with that?”

“What we do behind closed doors has no bearing on our professional lives. You can assign me four sections of calculus and I won’t blink as long as when we get home I can tie you up and paddle your ass until it’s bright red because you didn’t follow protocol before we left the apartment. And then fuck you until you beg for mercy, of course.”

“Of course,” I mutter, turning precisely the shade of red he’s talking about, I’m sure.

“You getting a job you deserve shouldn’t impact anything we do. If it does, we’ll figure it out. You’d be a great Chair.”

I toy with the napkin on my lap, twisting it between my fingers. “You don’t think it’s too…ambitious? I haven’t been here for long, and I don’t want—”

“There’s nothing wrong with ambition. If Headmaster Wilson doesn’t think you’re ready, he won’t give it to you. Simple. Do you want this?”

“I do.”

“But you’re afraid?”

I nod and he reaches across the table, palm up, waiting for me to slip my hand into his.

“I know, love. But I think you should do it. You do, too. You just need a nudge. So will you promise me you’ll apply?”

I roll my lips between my teeth and bite down. If I make a promise and don’t follow through, there will be consequences. But maybe that’s what I need. I haven’t gone after too many things I wanted because I spent too much time talking myself out of them and no one ever bothered to talk me into them.

“I promise.”

“Good.” His satisfied smile makes me glow inside and wish for the millionth time we didn’t both live in the dorms. But then we wouldn’t be on the Hill and then we wouldn’t be together. That fit of pique loses its steam very quickly.

That aside, what I do wish is for Shep to make me his forever. He’s young and for that matter so am I, but I want to come home to him every night, curl up in the same bed as a matter of course and not just on special occasions when the boys are away. I want to wear his ring on my finger and have everyone know I belong to him. It’s possible I’ve had to shred more than one piece of notebook paper on which I’d writtenMr. and Mrs. Zachary Shepherd,Zach and Erin Shepherd,Erin Elizabeth Shepherdand pretty much any other variation you can think of.

I hadn’t taken Will’s last name when we got married, but I never felt like I belonged to him. Shep and I? We belong together.

When we’ve finished dinner, we take a walk down to a little gallery that opened a few weeks ago on Main Street. It’s not much to look at, just a couple of white-washed rooms with some track-lighting aimed at local artists’ work hung on the walls, but it’s fun. We hold hands as we move from piece to piece and I ask him to tell me about them. It’s hot when he talks art.

After he’s explained chiaroscuro to me, I nudge his side. “You should see if they’d put some of your drawings on display.”

Shep shakes his head. “I’m not an artist, Erin. I’m a math teacher.”

“And you’re a lacrosse coach. And a hockey coach. And a soccer coach. You don’t have to be just one thing. Your work is just as good as theirs. Maybe better.”

My gaze darts involuntarily to a sizable watercolor featuring frogs that I hope was done by a local kid but the little placard underneath hadn’t indicated anything of the sort. I catch Shep eyeing the same painting and we laugh.

“I appreciate your vote of confidence but I don’t think so. Even if I wanted to it’s not like I have time to put anything decent together.”

That’s fair. He doesn’t have a ton of leisure time to sit around with his paints and brushes or even his pencils and paper. He hasn’t given it up entirely, though. I’ve seen his supplies on a shelf in his bedroom even if I haven’t seen him use them. I still think he should do it but I’ll let it drop for now. Maybe over the summer when he’ll only be working at the lacrosse camp Hawthorn hosts, and not teaching, too. There’s no way he’d do something if he can’t give it his all, and I love that about him.

“Fine.” I tow him over to a picture that’s been drawing me in since we got here, probably because it reminds me of Shep’s work. It’s a kitchen still life and the artist did a really wonderful job showing all the different textures and materials: brass pots hanging from a wrought iron ceiling rack, wood cutting boards resting on a stone countertop and a window you can practically feel the sun pouring through. “Then tell me how they made this look like glass.”

* * *

Shep

Good. Erin’s going to apply for the Chair. I’ve mentioned it a few times, hoping she would. She’d be great and there isn’t anyone better suited. She’s young and relatively new, and if the department weren’t so small she’d have a rough go of it, even if she is the best fit for the job. But as things are, there’s no way she won’t get it.

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