"I don't know how many art classes have been offered for kids. They're usually for adults."
"It's an underserved market then." That would be even better. "Ivy said she's always looking for mommy-and-me classes."
"And you don't have to stop there. You could do a teen class too. I think Hayden is into art."
"I was thinking about having a reset kind of class for teens in high school. It's something I thought of when I had a few teen clients. I enjoyed working with them."
"The possibilities are endless, and I'm confident you'll come up with a ton of cool class ideas that will appeal to a variety of kids."
"You don't think the island is too small to support something like this?"
"Hazel's after-school program has a wait list, and I don't think this is going to help that situation."
"You're sweet."
"I'm confident in your abilities. Once those kids meet you, they're going to love you."
My face heated. "Kids do tend to like me."
"How could they not? You're kind and engaging. You care about them. Nannying isn't just a job to you."
I blew out a breath. "I guess I'm going to do this."
He shifted on the cushion, taking my hands in his. "Was there ever any doubt?"
I laughed. "There was definitely a little panic."
"You've got this. You're going to be amazing." His voice was firm.
I squeezed his hands. "Thanks for supporting me and introducing me to a great group of friends."
He shook his head. "You were already friends with them. Ivy adores you."
I rolled my eyes. "She's my boss."
He arched a brow. "Am I your boss?"
I laughed. "Technically."
"You know you're not supposed to sleep with your boss," he teased, and it was the lightness I needed.
"I just can't help myself," I sassed as I kissed him. My dream was coming true sooner than I ever thought it could. I was teaching an art class at the library. I'd have a guaranteed interest in the program, different from if I'd advertised on my own. This could work.
It was something I was passionate about. Something I loved to do. My heart lifted as he carried me to his room, closing and locking the door.
"I missed you," he said.
His scruff chafed the skin on my jaw as he kissed my neck.
"I missed you too."
"Not as much as I did," he practically growled as he pushed up my shirt and kissed my stomach.
"You're saying I should go out more often?" I teased, my fingers playing with the strands of his hair.
He glanced up at me, his expression serious. "You can go out whenever you want. I just want you to come home to me."
Then he cupped my breasts, the desire shooting through my body, making me forget about our conversation and lose my train of thought.
