Page 37 of Ghosted By Texas

Austin

Crap, and Louise had read the damn thing. A nice chat with Austin about not delivering messages like that to my work was in order.

Thanks to the flowers that mocked me every time I looked at my desk, the day dragged on at a snail’s pace. Every kind of paint, paste, and marker you could think of ended up on my clothes or hands by the end of the day. It was like the kids were feeding off my impatience and thwarted my every effort to get out of the school in a timely manner and to be able to go home and get ready quickly. The stupid card didn’t give a time that he would be picking me up, just that he would.

~*~

Once I got home, the shower was my first destination. There was no way I’d go anywhere, with anyone, while covered in paint, glue, and other questionably sticky things. Damn fifth graders were worse than the Kindergarteners, especially since they made most of their messes on purpose.

The flower arrangement sat on my dresser, so every time I passed by to grab clothes, get dressed, or just double-check in the mirror that I looked okay for the 432nd time since getting home from work, I would smile at the damn thing.

They weren’t your conventional “I love you” bouquet of red roses. It was a wild mix, full of color, that I totally appreciated, especially since I was an art teacher. Calling myself an artist had ended abruptly after I received my degree from college and realized that selling art was extremely hit or miss and boiled down to luck or who you knew in the business that could give you a leg up. The most successful seemed to have a healthy dose of both.

It probably didn’t help that I didn’t have a focus in any one medium. I enjoyed them all. Sketching was something to clear my mind, painting was for when I was in the mood to really pay attention to detail, and clay was when I needed the therapy of making something with my hands that required that I got messy and just let go.

No one seemed to appreciate that I actually used all the mediums for some of my projects, since I would sketch them out, then form them out of clay, and paint in the end. My apartment wasn’t conducive to having a pottery wheel, kiln, or anything else on site either. So, that killed my abilities a bit as I was relegated to doing that kind of work on school premises and only if I thought I wouldn’t get caught.

The knock on my door made me pack my financial woes away, since that was really what kept me from being able to produce the art I wanted. When I opened the door, it was to Austin, standing there looking absolutely amazing. He wore dark wash jeans that hung down over black boots, a navy-blue button up shirt with a black t-shirt underneath it. His facial hair was trimmed close but had definitely become a full beard overnight instead of the usual well-groomed sexy stubble. His eyes flashed with interest as he gave me the same once-over that I had just given him.

“Hey Trouble,” he greeted me as his eyes wandered around the underwhelming space of my apartment. “Did you get my flowers?”

“Obviously, or I’d be dressed in my old roommate’s sweats while trying to figure out what to do for dinner before I crash tonight.”

Austin grinned. “It’s a good thing I rescued you from your mundane existence then, huh?”

My eyes rolled of their own accord. I swear, they had a mind of their own. “They’re in my bedroom,” I finally answered his unasked question about where the arrangement he sent might be. The man didn’t even hesitate as he sauntered through my apartment and went to see them for himself.

“Better than the picture,” he said to himself as I finally caught up.

“Help yourself,” I muttered.

He turned a gorgeous grin on me that would have made me agree to skip dinner altogether, if only he’d asked. Instead, he pulled me in for a steamy kiss with his arms wrapped around my waist before he quickly took a step back.

“Just wanted to make sure that you got what I wanted you to have. Sometimes, they show you a picture and what they deliver is entirely different.”

“Send a lot of flowers to women, do ya?” It was meant as a joke, but he stopped me cold.

“Not unless they’re my mom or sisters.”

“Oh,” I murmured.

“Yeah, well, we should probably get going. I’m sure you’re starved after dealing with those kids all day. How many classes did you have to pause to take a field trip to the bathroom?”

I laughed at his, most accurate, assessment of my job. “My assistant showed up today, so thankfully, I didn’t have to take the field trips of yesterday.”

“That’s good. Do you normally have an assistant?”

“I’d say about fifty percent of the time. She’s supposed to be dedicated to my class, but if one of the others doesn’t show, they’ll pull her to cover for a ‘real’ class over mine. You know, since the kids aren’t missing anything important if my whole classroom has to take a field trip to the bathrooms.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“That’s arts in the schools.”

“Well, it sucks.”

“Preaching to the choir, Austin,” I informed him as he helped me into my coat and then led me out of my apartment. I turned to lock up, but the man grabbed my keys and did the job for me. After making sure the door was firmly locked, he escorted me out to his truck with the palm of his hand rested firmly on my lower back. My brain was in sensory overload because he smelled deliciously dark again and his warmth bled through my clothing, or maybe that was my imagination. Either way, it felt good to be beside Austin, on our way to another date. Hope filled my chest that this time would be different. My heart fluttered at the prospect of finally being able to have the man of my dreams all to myself. Well, to myself as much as any adult couple gets one another to themselves. I wasn’t completely delusional. Yet.

“I have a confession to make,” Austin said as he tucked me into his truck and then moved around to get in on the driver’s side.

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