The restaurant looked like something out of a magazine. The red tablecloths. The formal place settings. The crystal chandelier. I looked around, trying to take it all in and suddenly realized I probably looked a tourist. Austin was used to dining at restaurants like this. I’ve never been to anything fancier than the Olive Garden.
The waiter seated us and began rattling off a list of this and that, half of which I didn’t hear because I was in awe of my surroundings, the other half I either didn’t understand or didn’t know what it was. I picked up the drink menu and scanned it, quickly glancing up at Austin.
Austin gently pulled the menu from my fingers and placing it with his, handed them to the waiter. “We’ll have two glasses of Pink Moscato, two ice waters, and bring us the appetizer sampler platter please.” The waiter nodded and walked away.
“Thank you,” I said. “It’s all a bit overwhelming.” I felt a knot in my stomach. I wasn’t sure if it was from excitement, nerves, or embarrassment.
“I get that.” He reached out and touched my hand. “If you trust me, I can just order for both of us.” I nodded. “They have a great steak, a really good burger, and the salmon is delicious.
“I love salmon,” I said. “And burgers.” I paused. “Hey, wait a minute.” Confused, I furrowed my brow, tilted my head slightly, and smirked. “A place like this has burgers?”
Austin let out a small chuckle. “Well, it’s Wagyu beef. So, it’s not just a regular burger.” Wagyu beef. I had heard about Wagyu beef and knew what it was. But I had never eaten it myself. At over a hundred dollars a pound it wasn’t exactly on my weekly grocery list. “How about this,” Austin said, smiling. He must have seen the concern in my eyes. I really need to get a better poker face. “I’ll get the burger, you get the salmon, and we can share.” The corners of my mouth slowly turned up until a smile overtook me. There was no hiding how much I liked his suggestion.
“Sure,” I said. “That sounds fun.” As I placed my free hand on top of his, two young boys slowly walked up to our table, each holding a pen and a piece of paper. I pulled my hands away and sat back in my chair.
“Excuse me,” the taller boy said. “I hate to interrupt your dinner, but you’re Austin Mathey, aren’t you?”
Austin looked at me, smiling. “Is this okay?” he whispered. I raised my eyebrows, smiled and nodded enthusiastically. I knew what the boys were feeling. There was no way I was going to come between them and talking to a real football hero. He was Austin Mathey after all. Austin turned in his chair to face the boys. “Yes, I am,” he said. “And who might you be?”
“I’m Kevin,” the taller boy replied, putting his finger to his chest. “And this is my brother Kyle.” He pointed to the shorter boy standing beside him. “We’re big fans and wondered if maybe we could get an autograph?” Both boys held out their paper and pens Austin.
“Of course!” He took the paper from the younger boy first. “It’s Kyle, right?” The boy nodded. “Do you play football, Kyle?” The boy nodded again. Austin scribbled on the piece of paper and then handed it back to Kyle. “What position do you play?”
“Wide receiver,” Kyle said. His voice was squeaky and high pitched. I tried not to giggle. Kyle stared down the paper in his hand. His eyes widened, and he smiled so big his eyes nearly disappeared into his cheeks. Austin took the paper and pen from Kevin and began scribbling again.
“Do you play football, too, Kevin?” Kevin nodded.
“I’m a quarterback,” Kevin said, standing tall. “My Dad was a quarterback too. He played in high school and was an all-state quarterback. I want to be like him and then play for the Ohio State University and then the Green Bay Packers. I want to be like Brett Favre and Aaron Rodgers.”
“Really? That’s great!” He handed the paper and pen back to Kevin. “Well, when you get to Ohio State, be sure to send me a couple tickets so we can come watch you play.” Did he just say we? Was he referring to me? As in us? Me and him? I felt my hands shake and tucked them under my thighs.
“Really?” Kevin said, the excitement poured from his voice. Austin smiled and nodded at the boy. “Yeah, okay. Sure!” Austin held out his hand to the boys.
“It’s been great meeting you two,” Austin said. “Thank you for stopping over and talking to me. It’s always great to know I still have fans.”
The boys each shook Austin’s hand and then scurried back to their table. Austin watched until they sat down with the adults at the table. The man nodded to Austin and he nodded back before turning back in his seat.
The waiter returned. He placed a glass of water and wine in front of each of us, and gently positioned a small tray of appetizers in the center of the table. It smelled delicious. I pulled my napkin from the plate in front of me and placed it on my lap. The waiter served the first of the appetizers to each of us and went on his way again. For such a fancy restaurant, I was pleasantly surprised to see things I recognized on the platter. Mushrooms. Shrimp. Calamari. Onion rings. Bruschetta.
“That was sweet of you,” I said. I took a sip of my water. “You know you made their day, probably their month.” Not to mention mine. You said “we.”
“It’s just as fun for me as it is for them,” he smiled, reached out and finished serving the appetizers, placing one of each on my plate and then on his. “I’ve loved football since I was little boy. I know how excited I would have been to meet one of the athletes I looked up to. I just want those boys to be able to say that they enjoyed talking to me.”
“I didn’t meet him,” I said. I shifted in my chair a bit, a little nervous about sharing personal things with Austin. But I wanted to. I wanted to open-up to him. I wanted to be closer to him. “But my grandfather took me to hear Jim Brown speak once.”
“Jim Brown?” Austin’s eyes widened. “Wow. That must have been amazing. He’s a legend.” He took a bite of an onion ring. “Wait.” He pointed his half-eaten appetizer at me. “So, does that mean you’re a Cleveland Browns fan?”
“Yes.” I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest, feeling a bit defensive, as I did whenever someone found out I was a Browns fan. “And before you say anything or go trashing the Browns, you need to know that it’s not just about the team for me. It’s about the heritage, the history, the happy memories I have around the game.”
“I wasn’t going to say –”
“Yes, you were.” I interrupted, chuckling. I leaned forward and grabbed a mushroom, popping it into my mouth and chewing a bit. “Everyone always does. And I get it. We’ve never won a Super Bowl. Our win-loss record is downright laughable. And management makes some of the worst decisions in the history of the NFL.”
“Well,” Austin finished his onion ring. “I’m not going to argue any of those points. But just remember. You said it, not me.” He smirked. I replied with a glare.
I ate another mushroom. As I stared down at my plate thoughts of my grandfather flooded my mind. “Before my grandfather died,” I started talking but kept my eyes down. “We always watched the Browns games together. Every week. And on their by week, we’d go see a movie.” I paused as the sadness began to fill my heart. “Even when he got sick, he made me promise to make sure he got to watch the games every week. So, I did. Until the day he died.” I reached up and swiped away a tear before it fell. “On the day he died, the Browns beat the Pittsburg Steelers thirty-three to thirteen. He would have loved that game.”
Austin reached across the table and wrapped his fingers around my wrist, running his thumb back and forth over my skin. “He sounds like he was an amazing man; and I can tell you loved him very much.”
“I did,” I said. “I do. And I wouldn’t have become a dancer if it wasn’t for him.” I felt another tear welling up in my eye and dabbed it away with my fingertips. “Everyone else told me it was a pipe dream, that I was kidding myself, that I should just get a real job. But not him. He drove me to lessons. He was at every recital. He never let me give up.”
Austin and I sat in silence for a m
oment. I concentrated on the feel of his fingers on my skin. His touch was magic. I felt calm. I felt warmth. I felt loved. The waiter cleared his throat and I slowly turned my head and looked up at him. He smiled.
“Are we ready to order?” he asked. I turned back to Austin and winked, gently pulling my hand back.
“Yes, we are,” Austin said. While Austin gave our order to the waiter, I looked around the room at the other patrons. There were many beautiful young couples. A few with children – like Kevin and Kyle. Several older couples were scattered among the crowd. And one large party sat near the center of the room. Do I really belong here? Everyone in the room was so glamourous. So beautiful. So elegant. I turned back to Austin. He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. Am I just kidding myself?
“Hey,” Austin said. He flashed me his charming smile. “You okay?” I nodded.
“I’m fine,” I said, trying to sound confident. “So,” I leaned forward, picked up my wine, and rested my arms on the table. “Tell me more about you. Tell me about the real Austin Mathey.”
Chapter Eleven
I learned a lot about Austin during dinner. He loves dogs. He’s never been to the Grand Canyon. His favorite color is red. He wants to learn to make homemade pasta, and he’s even looking into cooking classes. His first girlfriend’s name was Kelly. And he hates white chocolate. I hoped it was just the beginning.
He walked me to the door of my apartment, which is upstairs from the teashop. I invited him in for a cup of tea. I didn’t think or even hope anything physical would happen between us. I just hated for our time together to end.
“This is a great place,” Austin said. Following my lead, he tossed his coat on the chair next to the door. “Have you been here long?”
“I moved in when we bought the teashop,” I said. “About three years.” I kicked off my shoes, snapped my phone onto the charger, hit my ‘home’ playlist, and moved to the kitchen to make the tea. Austin followed close behind.
Pulling two coffee mugs from the cupboard, I placed them on the counter and turned around to see Austin standing in front of me, only a few inches away. I jumped.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay.” Austin extended his arm and lightly touched my hand, like a feather. A chill slithered up my skin, gently contracting each muscle on its way to my neck. My breath hitched.
“I’m sorry,” he said, drawing his hand back.
“No.” I leaned forward, reaching for him. “It’s okay. Really.” He looked at me. “And stop saying you’re sorry.” I met his gaze and there, in his eyes, I saw it. The mesmerizing, captivating, hypnotizing sparkle. I didn’t want to look away. I didn’t ever want to look away. I didn’t want him to ever stop looking at me the way he was at that very moment.
“I don’t know what it is about you,” he said. “I am so taken with you. What have you done to me?”
I chuckled, almost nervously. “What do you mean? I didn’t do anything.”
“I don’t mean it like that. I mean that you’ve enchanted me. You have me wanting to see you, to talk to you, to be with you all the time.”
“Really?” I didn’t mean to sound so surprised at his statement, but I was. The only people who’d ever wanted to spend time with me were Jesi and my Granddad.
“Why do you sound so surprised?” Why? Because, you’re Austin Mathey, and I’m a broken dancer with anxiety and OCD.
“I don’t know.” I lied. I hated to lie to him, but I had to. “Maybe because you’re a famous football player?” Flashing him a smile, I did my best to downplay my fear of not being good enough for him. “My teahouse is awesome, but it’s not famous – at least not yet.”
One song faded and another began. The tinging of the piano keys. The distinct voice. The instantly recognizable tune. Your Song by Elton John. “I love this song.” We spoke and then laughed at the same time.
I grabbed his hand and pulled him to the middle of the kitchen floor. “Dance with me,” I said. I put my hands on his chest and looked up at him.
“Oh, that’s sweet,” he said. “But I don’t dance. I don’t do anything like that since my injury.”
“I had an injury, too,” I said. I grabbed his hands and held them in mine. “Remember?” He nodded. I lowered his hands so that he placed them on back as I stood in front of him. I leaned in and rested my forehead on his chest, reaching up to touch his chin. “Aren’t you the one who told me that I shouldn’t stop dancing?” He scoffed and nodded again. I hummed and swayed with the music a bit. He moved with me. I put my hand on the side of his face, looked up, and pulled him to me, gently kissing his lips.
Our bodies were pressed tightly together, his arms wrapped around me, pulling me close. I leaned one way then the other, he followed my movements. He ran his hand through my hair, kissing me deeper, swaying his hips with mine.
“Austin,” I pulled my lips back slightly, trying not to smile.
“Yes,” he said, kissing me again.
“Guess what?” I loved the feeling of his lips on mine. His hands on my body. His body against me.
“What?” he said. Our bodies continued to sway as our lips and tongues teased.
“We’re dancing,” I whispered. Austin held his lips in place, still pressed against mine. As our bodies continued to sway, I felt the corners of his lips turn up. I pulled back to see him smiling.
“You’re good,” he said. “You are really, really, good.” We continued to dance, touch, kiss until the song was over. By that time, I knew I had to choose. Show him to my bedroom or show him to the door. I wanted him, but I didn’t want him to think that I was just another ‘whoo hoo' swoon girl.
“Austin,” I put the palms of my hands on his chest and pushed him back just slightly. “I think you had better go before I let myself take advantage of you.” Austin chuckled.
“Oh, you think I’m that easy?” he said.
“Well, honestly,” I said, taking a step back. “I got you to dance without you realizing it, didn’t I?”
“Good point.” He took my hand and followed me to the living room. I grabbed his coat from the chair and handed it to him. After putting it on, he pulled me close, put on hand on each side of my face and kissed me again. Soft, slow, deep. The muscles in my legs weakened and my panties moistened. He has got to go now or I’m going to end up putting my hand down his pants.
I opened the door and Austin stepped through the threshold. He turned back and looked into my eyes, acting as if he wanted to say something. I waited. He took a breath and smiled. I think he changed his mind or maybe wasn’t sure what he wanted to say.
“Dream about me,” he finally said. I smiled. He hurried down the stairs and down the walk to his car. I closed the door, locked it, and ran to the window to watch him drive away. Once he was out of sight, I danced around the room the music as I turned off the lights. Grabbing my phone from the charging speaker, I moved to my room and fell backwards onto the bed.
It’s a good thing he left. As turned on as I am, I’m afraid I would have hurt that man. Or at least left marks.
Chapter Twelve
I was so excited to see Austin again. This fluttering in my stomach was almost foreign to me. It was a sensation I hadn’t felt in years. I honestly can’t remember the last time I was this nervous. There was a biting chill in the night air as I made my way down the street. I welcomed the cold on my face as my nerves had caused my body temperature to climb.
Pulling the door open, I caught sight of Austin standing at the end of the bar. He was fiddling with a pen, and slightly bobbing his head to the music being piped through the speakers. A young man walked up to him, tapped him on the shoulder, and pointed to me. Austin looked up from the papers strewn across the bar, caught sight of me and dropped his pen. Within seconds, the man that had filled my every thought from the moment I had opened my eyes this morning stood in front of me.
“Peyton.” My name sounded like music as it rolled of
f his tongue. I hadn’t heard my name spoken in such a way before. I stared at his lips, hoping, wishing, wanting him to say it again. Please say it again. Say my name again. “Peyton.” There it was. I felt my lip quiver. “What an awesome surprise. What are you doing here?”
“I had some free time, and, I well ...” The words had escaped me. What the hell was I doing here? I know I had a reason. What was it? Oh, yes. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in coming to dinner tonight. At my place. I’ll make you something special.”
“I would love to,” Austin said. He placed his hand on the side of my face and brushed the hair back behind my ear. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” I inhaled, the air moving into my lungs in choppy, short spurts.
“You have?” My body seemed weightless. I felt like I had fallen into one of my dreams. Is this real? Pure joy and fear swirled through my heart, fighting for dominance. I wanted to believe that this was real, that he was real, that what I felt was real. But things like didn’t happen, at least not to me. Men like him don’t end up with women like me.
“Of course.” Austin gave me a soft kiss. “You fill my heart, why wouldn’t you fill my mind?” He kissed my lips again, wrapping his arms around my back. I sank into his large, toned body, resting my chin on his chest. I let out a breath, feeling safe and secure for the first time since my grandfather died.
Austin put his hands on my shoulders, pushing me away. His stance became rigid, and he stood tall, stiff, like a soldier. The look on his face morphed from one of happiness to shock or maybe it was fear.
“Austin,” I said. I attempted to step toward him and placed my hand on his arm. “Austin, are you okay?”
His grip constricted on my shoulders. His eyes opened wide, staring at something behind me. He panned his glance down, locked his eyes on mine, and spoke with an urgency I had never heard. “Whatever happens next,” he said, “please don’t hate me. I will explain everything. I promise.” He released his grip suddenly and slowly back away.
Whispers of Winter: A Limited Edition Collection of Winter Romances Page 148