Page 27 of Evergreen

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. But Professor Paulson just gave me the stank eye before turning back to Linden. “Thank you for that, Linden. I brought some from my personal stock as well. Maybe the pair of you can start work on the glass today so we can begin the replanting efforts.”

I watched as Linden nodded respectfully, his expression perfectly professional. If I hadn’t just had my tongue in his mouth two minutes ago, I would’ve believed the act completely.

“That’s generous of you, Professor,” he said. “We’ll get started on the glass right away.”

Professor Paulson set the box down carefully beside one of the larger planters. “See that you do. I want the western section cleared and ready for replanting by the end of the week.” She paused, her sharp gaze flicking between us one more time before settling back on Linden. “And try to keep your... assistant focused on the work, would you?”

Heat crept up the back of my neck. She’d definitely noticed something was off. I just wasn’t sure how much she’d seen.

“Of course,” Linden said, completely unfazed. “Cass is very dedicated to making things right.”

After Professor Paulson left, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. My cock had finally softened enough that it wasn’t obscenely obvious in my jeans, which was a relief.

“That was close,” I muttered.

“A little bit,” Linden agreed, but he was smiling slightly. “I think she suspects something.”

“She definitely suspects something,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “She looked at me like she wanted to bury me in here.”

“She’s protective of the greenhouse,” Linden said, moving toward the western section where the damaged glass panels were stacked. “And of me, I think. She’s been my professor for nearly four years. She cares.”

I followed him, my mind still half-focused on the feeling of his lips on mine and half on the very real possibility of getting caught making out on school grounds. “So what, we just... don’t do that again until after hours?”

“I don’t know,” Linden admitted, examining one of the few remaining glass panels. It was warped from the heat of the fire, the edges blackened. “I’m not very experienced with this sort of thing.”

I almost laughed. “Wait, are you telling me you’ve never snuck around with someone before?”

“Not really, no,” he said, shooting me a look that was half embarrassed, half defensive. “I’ve been pretty focused on school and the grove. Dating wasn’t really a priority.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to do something about that,” I said, surprising myself with the conviction in my voice. “Because I’m going to make sure you get the full college experience before you graduate.”

Linden looked at me for a long moment, and I could see something shift in his expression. Something softer. More open. “You’ve been talking to Nerion, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Mostly because he never shuts up.”

“That is definitely true,” he grinned before leaning in and kissing me once more on the cheek. “Let’s get to work, Sparks.”

Chapter 12

Linden

Fixing the glass on the conservatory was going to be grueling work and Cass was gonna have to do it all by himself. My dryad magic was great at growing trees, removing pollution, or healing wounds. However, I had absolutely zero talent when it came to the manipulation of silica at extremely high temperatures. Fire just wasn’t in my wheelhouse.

“Okay, so here’s the incantation,” I said, laying out the spellbook on the table between Cass and I. “We’re going to have to draw some magic circles on your palms since there’s so much to do. It’ll be easier than trying to construct one everywhere we go. And you’ll need a wand. A thick one.”

He raised an eyebrow. “A thick wand? Is that supposed to be code for something?”

I cocked my head to the side. “No. Painting molten glass into place is heavy work. A thin wand will snap.”

“Never mind,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll learn this spell if you can find me my chode wand.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Of course Cass would turn even wand selection into something suggestive. It was becoming increasingly clear that his constant jokes or grumpiness was his way of deflecting when he was nervous about something new. And learning glasswork was definitely new territory for him.

“Come on,” I said, leading him over to the storage cabinet where Professor Paulson kept the teaching supplies. “I think we have some decent options in here.”

I pulled open one of the drawers and found several wands of varying thickness and material. Most were made from wood, though a few were crafted from bone or crystal. I selected one made from thick oak, the kind that wouldn’t flex or bend under pressure.

“This should work,” I said, handing it to him.