Painted Memories (3 page)

“You need some help?”

His question brought me out of my trance and I stumbled over my words. “Oh... no... no, thank you. I'd hate for you to get dirty on my account. I'll figure it out. Thank you for asking.” I took a step back and stared at the jack for a minute, trying to figure out how the damn thing worked. Apparently, they all didn't look the same, because this one looked nothing like I remembered. There was the jack itself, and then a metal rod which looked like it went... where? I had no idea.

“Let me see that,” he said with a small laugh.

Who was I kidding? Even he could tell I didn't know what the hell I was doing. I handed it to him and stepped aside. “You really don't have to do this, but I really appreciate it.”

He peered up at me and smiled, “Are you kidding? I can't walk away, knowing you need help. What kind of guy would that make me?”

“Well, I haven't met too many kind-hearted men here.” Not until very recently.

Within a few minutes, he had the flat tire off and the spare
mounted. He started twisting the lug nuts back on the wheel, and I was surprised at how fast he was. With arms like that, he could probably lift the whole damn car off the ground.

“So,” he said, standing up, “do you always stick to the treadmill when you work out?”

He grinned at me, probably because my mouth was hanging open, shocked that he noticed me at all. God. I hoped he didn't see me almost fall off the treadmill. And why was someone like him looking at me in the first place?

“Well, exercising isn't high on my list of things of favorite things to do. I'm trying to add it to the list... the bottom of the list. Usually, I stick with walking outside or something, but considering my bad experiences with that, I thought I'd give the gym a try.” I looked down at the flat, dilapidated tire lying on the ground. “It seems like I have bad luck wherever I go.”

“Oh I don't know about that... you're talking to me. That's never bad.”

I was surprised at his cocky comment, but couldn’t help my grin when he smiled at me. His teeth were bright white, a perfect smile with matching dimples on both sides of his cheeks. Yeah, sure, I could overlook that last comment. Dusting his hands off, he placed the jack and tire iron back in the trunk of my car.

“I'd get a new tire put on as soon as you can. It's never good to ride too long on the spare.”

“Definitely.
Well, thanks so much for your help. You saved me a lot of money not having to call a tow truck. I appreciate it.” I held out my hand to shake his. “I'm Lilly, by the way.”

He took my hand, squeezing it lightly. “It was no problem. I'm glad I was able to help. And my name is Tyler. I'm a personal trainer here, so I'm sure we’ll run into each other again... if I'm lucky.”

I could feel my cheeks heating up. Was he flirting with me? “I'll definitely be back. It's a very appealing gym.”

“Yes, it is,” he said, walking backwards as he talked. “One
thing though... you may want to avoid the treadmill, especially if you’re trying to work on them. They seem a little too dangerous for you.” He winked and turned away.

I remained cemented to the pavement.
Great. Now another guy thinks I'm an idiot. This week just keeps getting better and better.

If I heard my name called one more time, I would crawl up under my desk and pretend that I ceased to exist. Everyone had a question or a complaint today and I wasn't in the mood for any of it. Thankfully, the last hour of class was Art, so I could get one hour of peace and quiet to catch up on paper-grading. Just one less thing to worry about later. 

When I came in this morning, I checked my mailbox at the front office and discovered a note from Principal
LaNore. A new art teacher was starting today! It was a relief to know I didn't have to rack my brain for another art activity this week. Artsy-craftsy I wasn't, and quickly running out of ideas. Now, if the music teacher left, that was one class I would love to teach. My parents spent nearly a fortune on weekly piano lessons for me while growing up. I wouldn't call myself the next Mozart, but I could practically play anything. Who was I kidding? I was rusty and not sure I could even bring myself to sit at a piano anymore. There were too many haunting memories to even attempt it, no matter how much I missed playing.

I stood up and called the class to attention. “All right, everyone, grab your belongings. After Art, it will be time to go home and you will not be returning to class. Line up at the door please.”

Referring to my paper again, I confirmed the art class would still be held in its usual place and the new teacher’s name was Mr. McGregor
.
He was probably just another old guy, already ten years past retirement. I didn't have anything against the elderly, many of whom were at Maplewood Elementary, although they didn't seem too keen on seeing younger teachers take their jobs, or so one lady told me on my first day. Frankly, I would think that after about twenty or thirty years of teaching, anyone would look forward 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 bodies. It didn't sound very appealing when I thought about it that way, so I took off toward the treadmill area, hoping to get my run in before it got too busy. I scanned the floor trying to see, if by chance, Andrea was already here. But it was too early and I knew she was still teaching. Since I had the good fortune to teach elementary school, and we now had a newly named art teacher, I could look forward to free time at least once a week. It would also allow me the opportunity to avoid Mr. McGregor as much as possible. I'd be constantly reminding him of my embarrassing moments. Falling face first in the pond was probably the worst possible scenario, but I didn't want to take any more chances than necessary.

Since Andrea was nowhere in sight, I decided to try out a few weight machines. My floundering like a fish out of water would have a limited audience, since only a few people were using the equipment. I kept it simple. First, I casually watched each person per machine and studied how to make it work; then I took their places when they left. I wanted to avoid looking like a complete idiot should anyone be watching me from somewhere on the floor.

After about thirty minutes of doing various leg and arm curls, I decided to try one last machine before I hit the treadmill for some cardio. Feeling like a pro, I decided to go for a machine that caught my eye earlier, but I still hadn’t seen anyone use it. I sat down on the seat and looked up at the long, black metal bar above me. A soft grip padded each end of the bar, indicating where to place my hands. A cable stretched from the bar, straight up a pole, and back behind me, like an upside-down L. Logic told me to pull down on the bar so the pulleys working the cable would lift the weights up behind me, but when I pulled down, nothing happened. The bar didn't give an inch and I knew there was something missing. I stood up and studied the machine, trying to figure out what I was doing wrong, and feeling dumber than a brick the longer it took. I pulled at this and that before sitting down and trying again... still nothing moved. Determinedly, I went to the back of the machine and looked one more time before giving up altogether. “Oh, forget it,” I huffed out loud, throwing my hands to my sides. When I turned to walk away, my body slammed against something hard. I peered up to find Tyler smiling down at me. I jerked my body away from his chest and stumbled backwards. He grabbed my upper arms and tried to balance me.

“Oh sorry, I... I didn't know you were standing there.” I said, embarrassed.

“My fault,” he said, letting go of my arms. “I should have spoken up. Do you need help?” he asked, glancing from me to the machine.

I eyed the machine, and gave it a dirty look. “No, that's
okay, I've had enough of weight machines today. Besides, I've spent too long trying to figure this one out.”

“Okay. Well, let me show you how to use it for next time. It
is
my job you know,” he said with a grin.

He showed me how to change the weight, my first problem, and blamed it on the last person to use it, who didn't reset it. I was trying to pull one hundred and fifty pounds with my arms. Tyler stood beside me and placed his hand on my lower back. I was almost certain that employees touching customers, like he was touching me, had to be against the rules.

But I'd never tell.

“Okay, now come over and sit on the bench. I'll show you what to do next.”

“Huh?” I was not about to work out in front of him. “I already know what to do. Really, I'll be fine.”

“I only want to show you the proper form. People don't realize how easy it is to injure
themselves lifting weights. Safety is our number one priority here at Body Fit.”

I smirked at the hint of sarcasm in his voice when he used the gym’s tag line. Sitting down on the bench, I scooted back until the bar was directly over my head. “And does this safety lesson include the gym’s parking lot too?” I inquired since he
showed no hesitation when he changed my flat tire the other day.

Tyler grabbed the bar and pulled it down in front of me so I could grasp its ends. “No, that's a one-of-a-kind service.”

He squatted over the bench and sat down on the edge of the seat in front of me. I focused on his dark brown eyes. I didn't dare look down at the small space between our spread legs, or glance at his knee, when it touched mine. I definitely never expected the training lesson he was giving me to be so
personal,
but I straightened my back and pulled my chest up, determined not to let him see how nervous, and surprisingly, turned on I was. What was wrong with me? I didn't act bravely around guys, and I absolutely wasn't the flirty type.