Page 112 of Again, In Autumn

He clears his throat, studiously focusing on the literature in his hand. “It was this or a hunting magazine. I’d rather learn about the latest wedding trends than look at the pleading eyes of a dead deer.”

“So, I can cross serial killer off my list of your possible hobbies?”

“You know what my hobbies are,” he answers.

I wait, knowing from his tone that some quippy, suggestive joke will soon follow. True to form, his voice drops, and he says, “Watching you right now just became my favorite past time.”

“Adam.” I half smile in spite of myself, it just encourages him, and rifle through my bag with one hand. I stop and he knows why.

“You can go ahead and pull your underwear out right in front of me. Don’t be shy.”

I goad, “Why are you watching me?”

“Because it’s fun.” He laughs lightly, his stomach muscles rippling.

Don’t look at it. I’ll never get out of this room alive if he sees me looking at his tan, half naked body and those dark eyes staring at the edges of my towel.

“You know what?” I pick up my bag, “I’m just gonna take the whole thing in there.”

“Spoilsport.”

Chapter Thirty-One

I dress in the bathroom and dry my hair at the vanity in the room while Adam showers. He hums and sings to himself in there.

It’s not as chilly today, so I’ve opened the French doors and let some cool air in, since we’re both warm from the shower and I’m warm from the wine. Happy voices laugh and chat in the garden. Everything feels rosy and romantic. I can’t even hear Alice’s inevitable tantrum in the room beside us.

Adam opens the bathroom door while he’s shaving and I’m applying makeup. I’m not above discreetly gawking at the muscles of his bare chest.

“What do you like about your job?” He asks, pulling his upper lip taut.

My mouth falls open while I apply mascara. “The kids.”

“That’s the part I couldn’t handle.”

“I love how they’re funny and innocent and want to know everything.”

“Do they have pee pee accidents?”

I laugh. “I would love to say no, but…”

He shudders and questions, “What do you hate about your job?”

“Ugh. How much time do you have?” I move to the other eye.

He swirls his razor in the sink. “For you, I have all the time in the world.”

I expect a cheeky grin to meet me in the mirror, but Adam’s serious, focused on his task and waiting for me to answer.

“Feeling like I’m always underwater,” I answer.

“How so?”

“There’s never enough time in the day,” I groan. “The curriculum is a mess, but I’m always expected to both follow it implicitly and add my own lessons, so the kids actually learn something, and the school board can pretend it’s because of their sparkling curriculum.”

I listen to the scraping blade on the side of his cheek. He says, “My step-mom was a middle school teacher.”

“I didn’t know that.”

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