Painted Memories Read Online Free

to retirement.
    In single file, I led the kids down the hall. I could hear the whispered giggles and shuffling of feet, along with the clicking of my heels. Three halls over, on the other side of the school, I ushered the kids through the door and entered the room once I had everyone inside. Glancing at the teacher’s desk, Mr. McGregor, or so I assumed, was leaning over it with his back to me. It certainly wasn't the backside of a seventy-year-old man, not in those jeans. They were loose fitting down the legs, but snug in all the right places. It was a nice view from my vantage point... very nice. I knew I hadn't seen this guy before. There weren't any young guys that worked here. Most were women, and the men were old enough to be my father or grandfather. Please don't be old, please don't be old, I thought as I waited for him to turn around. If I found out I was checking out an old guy’s butt, I might throw up.
    “Ms. Morgan, Ms. Morgan,” I heard beside me. I gave Mathew the sweetest smile I could muster while he tapped me on my arm.
    “Yes, Mathew? What is it?”
    “Will we get to paint this time? You promised we could for weeks now.”
    He was right. I was deliberately putting it off. Since the art teacher left unexpectedly not long after school started, everyone in the faculty had to take turns and improvise when it came to the art activity of the week. I always discouraged painting. I wasn't sure I could handle twenty-eight kids, with their fingers covered in paint—despite being told to use brushes, by myself. It might become my breaking point. Not to mention something that would have made my father say, “I told you so.” So, I avoided it altogether.
    “Well, I don't know what Mr. McGregor has planned for you today—”
    “Of course, we're painting!”
    I heard his enthusiastic voice behind me and I smiled at Mathew. “See? You get to paint! Now you can finally get to paint your mom a pretty picture.” I stood and smiled while turning towards Mr. McGregor. “They've been trying to convin—”
    M y hand flew to my mouth to stifle a gasp. I couldn't say a single word, and all he could do was stare at me. His eyes roamed my face and body before returning to my eyes again. A slow grin illuminated his face and seeing a dimple in each of his cheeks fascinated me.
    “So,” he said. “This is how you look dry.” Drew leaned in closer as he whispered in my ear. “And without a soaking, wet shirt on.”
    My hand covered my chest as if he could see the bra underneath my yellow dress. Something told me when I woke up this morning, with my legs still sore from using the treadmill, I should have called in sick. Damn it! I should start listening to my gut more often. I didn't have to look in the mirror to know my pale face was bright red with embarrassment. I could feel the heat burning through my cheeks. Not only did I have to see this guy at least once every week now, but his first impression of me was the crazy woman he pulled from the pond... Great, freaking great!
    “I have to go... grade some papers. This is their last class and they can take the bus or get in the car line from here.” I said it all so fast, I wasn't sure he understood anything. I backed away from him a few steps as his bright green eyes watched me. His brows were slightly arched and I could have sworn he was trying very hard to suppress a laugh. But I didn't wait for his laugh to escape; I turned on my heels and hightailed it out of there.
    “It was nice to see you again, Lilly,” he said as I hurried down the hall. In that moment, two things occurred to me. One: he remembered my name. Two: his front side looked just as good as his backside.
     
     
    I walked through the sliding glass door of Body Fit gym, and was shocked to see the emptiness of the place at only two-thirty in the afternoon. Soon, lots of people would start streaming in after their workdays came to a close, filling the place with heavy breathing and sweat-glistened