Page 33 of Under His Sheets
Wow, I’d watched one too many James Bond films. Or maybe episodes ofChuck. Oh, God. Was I Chuck Bartowski in this scenario? The hapless everyman who stumbled across something I shouldn’t have? I had no idea. All I knew was that I’d met a nearly perfect man who actually wanted to spend time with me, and that I was falling hard for him.
“Too much fun indeed,” Sasha said, waving a hand in front of my face.
“Oh, uh, yeah. It was fun. I need to get ready for my next class.” I stood, bussed my tray, and hurried to my classroom asthey laughed at me. Thankfully Monday was all private lessons, because I was so distracted, I was liable to flub up with my students.
When I opened the door with my key, a one-word note slipped out of the doorjamb.
Soon.
I heard the wheels of Alonso’s cart and turned around in time to catch him smile at me and then continue on his way.
Ah. So he was going to be cute about it.
I smiled the rest of the afternoon.
The next day when I returned from lunch with the French Foreign Legion, as I’d started to call them, I discovered a book of poetry in Catalan on my desk. No note, just the book.
I got the hint.
On Thursday I went to the office during lunch for a check-in meeting with Lara.
“Everything is going okay?”
“More than, thank you. I’m so happy this job found me.”
She laughed. “I’ve had nothing but praise from the parents. I only wish we’d had you long enough to prepare something for Three Kings Day. Are you aware of how they celebrate Christmas differently in Spain, and specifically in Catalonia?”
“I’m not, but I’ll look it up.”
“It’s too soon, but perhaps you could put together some sort of short program, a winter concert? End of January?”
“I can definitely do that,” I said to her. I was already mentally cataloguing which kids were close to ready and which pieces could be ready with a bit more work.
Lara beamed. “I’m so glad you are here. See you at Friday Social?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She waved as I left her office. When I reached my room, I paused because the door was open. I always locked my door. Perhaps Alonso was inside? I opened the door and there was a daisy laying on the shelf inside the door, which wasn’t there before. It looked like one of the yellow daisies off the bushes outside the school. I was feeling all kinds ofawwwabout it…until I noticed another surprise.
On a table at the back of the room was a guitar case, the size and shape of an acoustic guitar.
My heart fluttered and my cheeks warmed. What a sweet gesture.
Then it hit me.
Would Alonso have taken such a chance? He could have hidden a flower, but anyone might have seen him go into my room with a guitar. Should I touch it? Should I?—
My next student arrived, and I had no more time to investigate. For the next three hours, I entertained child after child with stories of my early years as a musician and asked them to tell me what they loved and loathed about playing. I didn’t want music lessons to be something they hated. So many kids were turned off by them in their early years, so I made it a point to give kids several entry points to falling in love with the art.
At the end of the day, I was still wondering about the guitar when I heard the wheels of Alonso’s cart outside. Would he come in, or was he going to avoid me at every opportunity?
He came in and paused when he saw me.
“Hi.”
Totally normal way to greet the custodian at my workplace that I definitely only had contact with at work.
He nodded, glanced behind him to see if anyone was in the hall, and he pulled the door semi closed.
