And here we were, in the back of the art studio, with no time at all, and I was getting fucked in both holes. Bliss.
“Oh God,” I moaned, clenching him as hard as I thought possible.
“Come for me, Jules.”
“Yes,” I said. “Yes. God, yes.”
My release crashed through me like a tidal wave. I saw red as I shook from head to toe. My orgasm was so tight that I felt Austin follow in the wake of my tsunami.
I banged my head forward on the table when I finally was able to relax. Austin bent over me and kissed my neck twice before pulling out of me. I stayed there a few seconds longer before righting my jeans. Austin was hastily throwing his clothes back on just as Nina knocked on the back door.
“Everything okay back there?”
Austin and I looked at each other.
Oh, yes. Things were a hell of a lot better than okay.
Once clothes were straight, we profusely thanked Nina for allowing me to join the class. She gave us both knowing looks but chose to ignore whatever indiscretion had happened in the back.
“It’s my pleasure. Thank you for volunteering to sit for us. I’ve been looking for someone for weeks,” Nina said.
“It wasn’t as bad as I’d thought,” Austin said.
“Well, good. I’ll see you both next week.”
“Bye,” I said.
Austin slung an arm around my shoulders as we walked out of the studio together. I could feel that euphoria of a new relationship settling back over us. That feeling of rightness returning. It wasn’t a hundred percent better. Things like that didn’t get better overnight. But, for the first time in a long, long time, I thought that maybe, just maybe, love could conquer all.
“Where’s your car?” Austin asked as we approached his Alfa Romeo across the street.
I pointed to the parking lot next to the studio. Then, I took a second glance. And a third.
“Wait…where the fuck is the Tahoe?”
I jogged across the street in frustration and circled the place I knew the SUV should have been parked. But the parking lot was completely empty. There had only been two other cars parked by me. They’d probably left with the class, but where was my car?
“Must have been towed,” Austin said.
“Fuck!”
“It’s fine. Call the company on the sign and see if it’s there. I can drive you over.”
“I fucking hate tow companies,” I growled.
But I did as he’d said. The guy who answered confirmed that my SUV had been impounded in the last hour, and I needed to come by and pay the fine to get it.
“Thanks,” I muttered sarcastically before hanging up on the guy. “Just my luck.”
Austin pulled me into a kiss. “Don’t let this ruin our date. It happens to everyone at some point. It’ll be fine.”
“You’re right. I know. But ugh!”
We hopped into his car and drove over to the towing company. There she was. My black Tahoe, sitting all pretty. I walked up to the station where the guy I’d called was working. I handed over my ID and a debit card to pay the fucking one-hundred-and-eighty-dollar fee.
“I’m here for the Tahoe.”
“Sure thing,” he said. He handed me a paper to fill out and ran my card.
“I can’t believe you guys even towed that parking lot. People park there all the time.”
He shrugged. “The company that owns it called it in. Bad luck.”
I rolled my eyes. Of course the company had called it in on the day I was there. Between this and the break-in, I was totally running out of luck.
“You’re all good to go,” the guy said, handing me a receipt and a copy of the paperwork I’d filled out.
“Thanks.”
I snatched the stuff out of his hand and flagged down Austin. “All good to go. The company called in the cars there for the art studio.”
“Assholes.”
“Right?”
“At least we got it all settled.”
“Yeah,” I said, dragging his lips against mine again. “Come over?”
“Absolutely.”
“See you there.”
He nodded and then headed back to his car. I jumped in the Tahoe, and before I drove away, I took a deep breath and let it out. Just bad luck. This shit happened to everyone. It didn’t mean anything. Not a thing.
Twenty
Julia
“Why the hell am I awake this early?” I asked, squinting blearily into the hot West Texas sun.
It was only eight o’clock, and already, it was ninety-five degrees outside. The weather was hot and dry and dusty. I could already see the characteristic red haze on the horizon that meant this Fourth of July weekend was doomed.
“Maverick is in the marathon,” Sutton said next to me. Her son, Jason, was passed out on a blanket on the parade line, and I seriously considered joining him. “I had to be here before seven. Be glad you got to miss the opening and all that. I barely got a kiss before he took off.”