Chapter 2

(River)

Instant attraction, complete connection

Walking into Pints n’ Pool was always an experience, and tonight, I put a little extra sway in my step as I crossed the room towards the end of the bar. The guy who’d walked into the smoke shop splattered in yellow paint had been in gray slacks and one of those soft long-sleeved shirts that hung loosely, giving off the whole business casual vibe. He'd had the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, revealing hands and forearms dotted with more than just yellow.

Curiosity meant I’d asked around and discovered that Lux Sinclair was the new art teacher at the high school, and holy shit, he dirtied up nice. I took my time looking my fill as he approached, surveying him from the tips of his leather boots to the Henley and flannel that clung to his upper body. Wide shoulders tapered to a narrow waist, and his jeans looked butter soft from being worn.

I knew I looked good in my favorite black skinny jeans, the pink rhinestones on the back spelling Fabulous. I had the ass to pull it off too and enough of an hourglass figure that I still drew wolf whistles from some of the guys I’d gone to school with before they realized it was me.

The timing couldn’t have been more perfect and if Keith Sutton wasn’t such an asshole, I’d have thanked him for letting out a loud one just as I was approaching Lux, who turned, face splitting into a grin when he saw me.

“Hello, someone knows how to make an entrance,” he said as he gestured to the high-backed bar stool beside him.

I caught a brief glimpse of Keith’s blushing face right before he shot me the bird, and I grinned and stuck my tongue out at him like we were back in grade school.

Lux raised an eyebrow at me, having clearly caught the whole thing.

Shrugging, I tried to feign innocence, which blatantly failed when he grinned and shook his head at me.

“What can I say, I’ve got a thing for pushing assholes’ buttons,” I said, refusing to feel bad about giving shit to people who’d made my school years hell.

“Clearly.”

“So…” I said as I settled in, “you’re the new art teacher and I am a former student who’d have loved to have had you for my teacher.”

“And why is that?”

“The eye candy.”

Lux snorted, then doubled over, laughing as I mentally congratulated myself for vaulting us past those first awkward first date moments.

“Alright, how about we skip the part where we play twenty questions over beers and jump right into all those amazing pieces I saw in your shop yesterday. “

“If you say they are A-plus work, I am going to officially call a timeout on this date and insist you go back and leave your gradebook at home.”

“Quiet you. I was attempting to pay you a complement,” he grumbled, giving me a wink.

“What makes you think I made them?”

“That little smudge of clay beneath your ear and the smear of it along the edge of your chin.”

Dammit!

Okay, so maybe I had sat a little too long at the wheel, then rushed to jump in the shower after three alarms and my emergency backup reminder, in the form of my brother Haven.

I could feel my cheeks heat up as I dabbed a napkin in my ice water to try and rub the spots away.

“Leave them,” Lux said, his chuckles a low, rolling rumble that made me shiver. “It makes up for me having to have a whole conversation with you splattered in paint.”

Now it was my turn to laugh and wad up the napkin, ‘cause he was right, who cared, we’d obviously connected and that’s what truly mattered.

“So now that we’ve established you as the artist behind those amazing bits of clay and resin, are you going to seriously stand there and claim the public education system was responsible for all your talents?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that as an image of my fifth-grade art teacher, Mrs. Snyder, popped into my head, along with her exasperated voice.

For the last time, River, please try to do the assignment I’ve given the class.

In all fairness, he had tried, but it was hard when all he ever wanted to do was follow along to see where his imagination took him. Wasn’t that what art class was supposed to be about? Exploring one’s creativity?

“My mother taught me to work a wheel,” River explained. “I love the way clay feels beneath my fingers. Resin is fun and I love mixing the colors and sprinkling in glitter and shells, but there is a disconnect to it sometimes, I think it’s the molds. It’s not the same as being able to change the shape of something just by exerting a bit of pressure in the right spot.”

“Sometimes the wrong spot can lead to an interesting shape too.”

“True,” I said as I traced my fingertip through some of the water my napkin had dripped onto the polished surface of the bar. “I guess that’s why I’ve always enjoyed creating, even the accidents can lead you to someplace amazing.”

“Exactly. I hope that’s the discovery all my students make when they are in my classroom,” he explained. “I want them to know that even though the masters studied the ones who came before them, they distinguished themselves by developing a style, techniques, and ideas that were all their own.”

“Learn the rules, then break the rules,” I said and held my Cherry Bomb up in salute, clanking it against his beer.

“I’m curious to see how you break on a table,” Lux said, his grin both challenging and flirty. “But I’m also a little reluctant to head over there where it’ll be harder to hold a conversation, and your attention.”

“Decisions, decisions,” River said. “I’m always up for a conversation with a fellow artist. Please don’t try to say you’re not one either. I doubt you’d be teaching art if you didn’t at least dabble in some medium or another.”

At least he didn’t try to protest, though I fell silent and gave him the opening he’d need if he wanted to. Humming, I swirled the swizzle stick around in my drink while I cast a glance over at the table, curious about how good he was and if it would be a challenge to play him.”

“But I’m also really damned curious to see how those jeans hug your ass when you’re bent over taking a shot.” I added, still struggling to make up my mind.

His smirk promised sinfully wicked things if he decided he liked where these first few minutes of flirting were headed. “I was thinking the exact same thing about yours, so it looks like we have no choice but to play until we’ve stared our fill at one another and picked up something to eat on our quest for a quiet spot to get to know one another better.”

“Actually, I know the perfect place for a picnic, as long as you don’t suffer from any motion sickness.” I declared, loving the way his smile just grew at hearing that.

He leaned closer too, making it clear that I had his full and undivided attention.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “And where is that?”

Shrugging, I played coy and swirled my drink around in the glass before taking another sip. “If I tell you, it spoils the surprise.”

“So, I’m just supposed to answer the question about motion sickness and see where the evening takes us?”

In response, I wiggled my eyebrows at him. “Pretty much.”

“You know what, I can work with that,” Lux said before kicking back the last of his beer.

As much as I appreciated his eagerness, if I downed the rest of my Cherry Bomb that fast my pool playing would be a comedy of errors there would be no coming back from.

“Want me to grab the table?” He asked when the two men who had been playing finally walked away at the end of their game.

“Please.”

The best part of him heading over there was getting to stare at his ass, and lock eyes with him when he turned to look over his shoulder and caught me doing it.

Winking, I shot him a flirty grin, then sipped that Cherry Bomb as fast as I dared before I joined him.

He’d racked, so I broke, and yeah, I did the whole stretch out the full length of the pool table, one leg bent, foot off the ground, glance back to make sure his eyes were on my ass before I smacked that cue ball the way I’d been taught and sent the mass of balls scattering.

“Nice break,” Lux murmured as the four dropped in the corner pocket, securing the solid balls as mine.

“Really, how can you be sure when your eyes aren’t on the table?” I asked as I stepped past him, licking my lips as I gazed up into his eyes.

The heated look he shot me made my jeans feel even tighter, but I loved this little dance we’d slipped into. We were so blatantly flirting that it had partially shifted from teasing to foreplay,

I sank two more balls before clipping the six a little too hard and sending it bouncing off the rail instead of into the pocket.

Now he got to preen and I got to stare and damn, he was almost a foot taller than me. He had a strong, compact build that reminded me of my favorite modern dance performers too, which left me practically vibrating with the desire to feel his arms wrapped around me as we swayed to a beat. Not at a club though. Not among the crush and grabby hands of so many others.

“So, you know my preferred mediums, but you still haven’t told me yours,” I said as he stepped behind me and deliberately brushed his fingertips down my spine. I shivered and nearly melted into a chair while Lux, that devious bastard, winked and sent the nine into the corner so fast it echoed when he sunk it.

“Does moving things back to the Q and A portion of our night mean you’ve had your fill of looking at me?” He asked as he lined up the thirteen, clipped it a little too hard, and sent my ten in the side pocket right alongside his ball.

“Thanks for the assist, but I really don’t need you to throw the game just to get me somewhere you can be alone with me,” I insisted. “Just say the word and I’ll wrap things up so we can be on our way.”

“Really?” He muttered, his look turning from flirty to quizzical. I could see both curiosity and competitiveness warring in his eyes and waited to see which direction he’d take things. “You think you can run the rest of the table?”

“I know I can.”

He chuckled at that and reached for his wallet. “Okay, let’s put your money where your mouth is.”

“Fine by me, I love being able to buy myself gifts.”

“Really, and what do you like to buy yourself?”

“Besides art supplies?” I asked, because I did spend a big chunk of my disposable income on the materials I used to craft not only the items I sold in the smoke shop, but the pieces that decorated my loft, and the ones that were carried in the artisan shop on Main Street.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure those are a given,” Lux said as he pulled a twenty from his wallet and set the chalk on top of it to hold it in place.

I was truly intrigued and motivated by the need to prove to him that I could do exactly what I’d claimed.

“That’s yours if you sink the final four,” Lux declared. “Miss and all you get is the chance to flirt with me a little longer.”

Well, that wasn’t fair, but it was a no brainer too. I sunk three, smirked, and deliberately scratched on the eight. Watching Lux’s jaw drop was more than worth the loss.

“And then there is option number three,” I offered when he’d opened and then snapped his mouth shut without any sound coming out.

“Bu-but I didn’t get to see if you could actually finish running the table on me,” Lux complained.

“Nope, and you won’t, until next time, when I get to flirt with you some more, and even dust off a few of my flashier moves.”

I know I was being cheeky and maybe even a bit presumptuous, but I didn’t want this little date night to be a one and done kind of thing. I wanted many more opportunities to study him while he studied the table, because in my head, there was already a series of sketches coming together.

“And in the meantime, we get to go pick up some picnic food, and you get to tell me about your favorite medium,” I offered, loving the way he’d started pouting, just a little.

“I believe you owe me a question too,” Lux pointed out as he quickly rebounded, his pout morphing into a shrewd look. “I want to know what you treat yourself with and how you decide that you’ve earned a reward?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” I replied, going for a mix of cheekiness and smartassery that I hoped wouldn’t lead to me coming off like some sort of psycho. “Not strangling the clientele when they come in being douchebags always earns me at least a grab bag, but if we’re talking splurge, then old school vinyl records. That’s my soul right there. I’m a snob though. I’m only after the trippy stuff and old blues. No disco, no big band, and absolutely no sad, depressing, everyone died, and the fields dried up, country music.”

Lux laughed at that and returned our cues to the rack and the twenty to his pocket.

“I’m with you there,” Lux said. “Though I can’t say that I’ve ever even heard an album played on a record player and you’ve gotta be about a decade younger than me, so how’d you ever fall in love with it?”

“Much like my love of pottery, I have my mom to thank for that. I inherited her collection when I was fourteen, then grew it and shaped it into one of my own. I think she’d be proud of it. It’s eclectic, but every album has got a mellow kind of vibe.”

“I love music. I can’t create if I don’t have something playing in the background,” Lux admitted. “I learned a long time ago that I could influence the mood of my piece by carefully selecting the music I put on.”

“Same,” I replied, inhaling the night air as we stepped outside. They kept saying a cold snap was coming, but so far the nights had been cool, but not so crisp that my plan for where to hold our picnic would need to be reconsidered.

“How do steak tips, sliders and potato wedges sound,” I asked, fingers poised over the screen of my phone to put in the order.

“Amazing.”

“Done,” I said as I tapped it in. “And the best part is that the Blue Star Diner is on our way to the picnic spot.”

“One of the perks of living in a small town, huh?”

“One of the few, but yeah, it does make it easy when you can walk everywhere and not have to worry about hopping in a car just to pick up a few things from the grocery store,” I said, loving the convenience of small town life, even if there were times when I longed to see more than what Foggy Basin had to offer. “Every time I think I’d be better off in the city where it would be far easier to blend in, I’m reminded of how much I love the stillness and the ability to get lost in my music without horns, sirens and arguing neighbors to break up the flow.”

“I was never happier to pack up and move as when I got the call about the job here,” Lux said. “The pair that lived next door to me would go at it like someone was being murdered, then get drunk and make out on the lawn like a bunch of teenagers. I can’t tell you how many times the guy across the street called the cops on them for being halfway to buck naked for the world to see.”

“Damn,” I said, unable to imagine anything like that happening here. “I guess they didn’t mind having an audience.”

“With how full their recycle bin was each week, I think they were too pickled to notice.”

“At least they recycled.”

“True,” Lux said. “As for the question you asked me before, it’s pencils and cartooning pens. I love creating comic strips and have several long-standing ones on my website. As for traditional mediums, I’ve got a love for watercolors. I love the dreamy, surreal effect after everything has been painstakingly blended with gentle brushes of water.”

“Little illusions,” I said, because that was always what they reminded me of. “So much blur and fading it’s easier to picture what might be than worry about the preciseness of the details.”

“Yes. It’s like staring at the clouds and seeing all the things they resemble, like those two there. Doesn’t the wisp connecting them look like the neck of a swan?” He said as he pointed out the formation lightly backlit by the moon.

Now that he said it, I did see it, even with the darkness of the sky where the glow couldn’t reach.

“You’ll have to come over sometime and listen to some vinyl with me,” I offered as we reached the Blue Star and squeezed into the lobby with others also waiting to pick up orders. “And introduce me to your comics. I love illustrations, especially funny ones.”

“How does tomorrow afternoon sound, unless you’re a massive football fan and have no desire to do anything but watch the games all day?”

“I’m a casual viewer,” I admitted. “Hockey is more my thing. We’re only open for a few hours tomorrow, so I’d welcome the company. I live over the dispensary, in case you were wondering, just come around the back way and I’ll let you in.”

“How about I pick us up a pizza on my way,” Lux offered. “Pan or thin crust?”

“Thin and crispy for the win,” I replied, giggling because for some reason it sounded far funnier in my head. Oh well, he was chuckling right along with me, so I guess he found it amusing too.

“Any toppings you don’t want on your pizza?”

“I love that you asked that instead of trying to get me to list all the things I do like on one.”

“Anybody who gets that excited about crust clearly has an affinity for pizza.”

“Because it is all the food groups, and I’ll fight anybody who tries to tell me otherwise,” I declared, doing my best to look fierce and clearly failing when he started snickering at me as little.

I could see him think of an argument too, then his face scrunching up as he really took the time to think about what I’d said.

“Thank you!” I said when he could think of nothing to refute my statement. “And anything is fine as long as it’s not olives or fish bits.”

“Eww,” he moaned, grimacing, his nose and mouth puckering up as he scrunched up his face. “Why would anyone put either on a pizza?”

“I wish I knew,” I grumbled, glad he agreed with me about the awfulness of those particular toppings. “But I hate burning my fingertips trying to pick them off.”

“You and me both.”