See Me After Class(99)

“How is everything?” Janet asks. She’s been respectful of giving us space and attention equally. They’re going to be tipped exceptionally well tonight.

The night has been absolutely perfect.

“These crab legs are spectacular,” Greer says. “I can’t get over how much meat is in them.”

“I’m happy to hear that. Would you like some damp towels to wipe your hands with?”

“Shortly, that would be great,” I say, as we still have a few crab legs to eat.

“Of course, and the music, is it too loud?”

“Perfect,” I answer. “Thank you.”

“Very well. Please let us know if you need anything.”

She leaves me alone with Greer. The lanterns cast a warm glow around us, adding a beautiful, intimate atmosphere. The instrumental music is quiet enough to make conversation easy, but also soft enough where we can still hear the lapping of the water against the boat.

“This is so amazing, Arlo, seriously. I feel so spoiled.”

I smile. “Get used to it.”

“Was your childhood like this? Lavish?”

“Depends. Dinners were silent and served to us by my grandparents’ staff, so maybe others would call it lavish, but I’d call it cold and uncomfortable. We weren’t to talk, just eat.”

“Really? That’s so sad.”

“Yeah, I only realized that wasn’t the way families shared dinner when I went to my friends’ houses, and I became resentful. I was resentful about a lot of shit, still am, but trying to work through all of that. What about you? What were your family dinners like?”

“Obnoxious.” Greer smirks. “Mom cooked, my brother and I set the table, Dad said the prayer at the head of the table, and then . . . well, we’d talk about the most obnoxious things, like different ways you can say the word fart.”

“What?” I laugh out loud.

“Yup, it was a thesaurus battle. We’d pick one word for the night and go for it. Dad always won, of course, but there was this one night where Mom made porkchops and applesauce, Dad’s favorite. He was in heaven, and I think that distracted him, because Mom dominated and took the win.”

“What was the word?”

She smiles and, fuck, she’s so damn beautiful it hurts. “Penis.”

A laugh bubbles out of me and I ask, “How old were you?”

“High school. The words didn’t get dirty until we were in high school, and my parents thought it was appropriate to expand our vocabulary so when we were in college, we had new and different ways to not only refer to genitals but to have a colorful bank of insults, as well.”

“Give me an example.”

“Oh, you know, classic insults like dunderhead, fussbudget, and gollumpus.”

“Gollumpus.” I chuckle. “Hell, I think that’s what I might start calling every single one of my students until they prove themselves otherwise.”

“I’d love to see that.”

“Don’t tempt me.” I wiggle my brows. “Your family dinners sound like the ones I craved growing up.”

“Well, if you’re lucky, maybe I’ll invite you to one some time.”

“And where would that be? I have no idea where you’re from, which strikes me as odd. I feel like I should know that.”

“Well, if you weren’t such a bastard at first, maybe you’d have known.” She chuckles.

“True. Well, I’m here to learn now. Where are you from?”

“Nebraska. My parents own a farm. They used to sell corn until they realized they could earn big money by having wind turbines on their property and selling renewable energy.”

“Smart,” I say, rather impressed.

“Yup. They’re retired now and living the good life of not having to do very much.”

“Good for them. And your brother?”

“Marine. He went straight into the service from high school. He’s always had a passion to be a part of something bigger than himself. And let me tell you, the insults we learned at those family dinners come in handy now when he’s yelling at his peons.”

“I can imagine, that gollumpus said in a scary tone could be toe-curlingly terrifying.”

“You have no idea.” She chuckles and picks up her glass of wine. Head tilted, she says, “I’m having a really great time, Arlo.”

“So am I.”

“Thank you for stepping out of your comfort zone and trying something new for me.”

“No need to thank me.”

“Does this mean you’ll try my teaching techniques?”

“I want nothing more than to be the man who holds your hand, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to try your teaching techniques.”

“And why not? Too rudimentary for you?”

“Too ostentatious.”

“Oh my God, no, they’re not.”

I lift a brow in her direction. “Just last week, did you or did you not perform a one-woman dance routine to help show the timeline of Pride and Prejudice?”

“Uh, I didn’t. I wasn’t showing a timeline; I was showing the class the dance moves from that time period. A little encouragement for homecoming. Clearly no one took my advice.”