Page 1 of Ghosted By Texas
As I scanned the party for Clea, who was supposed to meet me there twenty minutes earlier, my eyes landed on the man of my dreams.
It felt as though I could melt right into the rich, warm depths of dark brown that stared right back at me. When his lips kicked up into a lazy half smile, I swear to all that is right in the world, I freaking swooned. My legs threatened to give out, my heart stuttered in my chest, and stupid palms started sweating for no good reason.
He stood at least a good eight inches above my much smaller frame and those broad shoulders that tapered down to his trim waist only made the size difference seem that much more – wow. Yeah, that was the right word for him. He was all kinds of wow. A leggy sorority girl, who was much closer to his height, leaned into his arm and whispered in his ear. All the while, he never took those mesmerizing eyes off mine.
“Austin!” I heard the woman whine as she slipped away from his body and stomped her prissy foot into the ground. She couldn’t be less subtle if she yelled, “Pay attention to me, dammit!”
He did not pay her any mind, and instead, made his way over to me. Our eyes never wavered from one another’s as he moved closer. The jeans he wore clung to his frame in all the right ways, not too tight, but not so baggy that you couldn’t tell his thighs were shaped with sturdy muscles underneath. He had a golden star shaped badge clipped to the black belt that ran through the loops of his jeans. A black t-shirt adorned his torso and boy did I wish it hadn’t. Why couldn’t the man have worn a costume that meant he needed to go shirtless like some of the meatheads running around the party?
Still, happy birthday to me! I’d consider him a present that I had to unwrap, if given the chance.
“You looked like the best kind of trouble from across the room, so I had to come find out for myself.”
Oh shit! As far as pickup lines went, that actually struck a nerve. It was a different approach than the usual, “Hey beautiful” or “Did you fall from heaven?” bullshit that I’d heard at parties during my years at university.
“Is that so?” I asked.
He laughed at my question instead of answering it, and then reached out to push gently on my button.
Oh! I was a fucking idiot.
Clea and I decided to go against the grain and not wear super slutty costumes, like ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the other women on campus. We went with a boardgame theme. She was the Game of Life, and I was Trouble, the boardgame with the big button in the middle that you had to push to make the die inside bounce. The same button that my mystery hunk was playing with.
I laughed along with him. “Honestly, my best friend was supposed to be the Game of Life, but she hasn’t shown up yet. Would you believe that I forgot what costume I was wearing?”
He grinned down at me. “As bulky as this thing is, it’s hard to believe.”
“Well, your sheriff’s costume had me stunned stupid for a minute, so there’s that,” I admitted shyly.
“U.S. Marshall. Sheriffs have to wear uniforms.” He winked at me as he pointed to all the yummy goodness hidden behind his street clothes, not a uniform.
“What would I ever do without you to school me on the differences?”
“Maybe you should stick close, just in case you need help with anyone else’s costumes.”
“I don’t think I noticed anyone else’s.” Holy fucking word vomit. My cheeks flushed with heat. I wasn’t normally a shy person, but I also wasn’t the bold type of woman who outwardly came on to a man so strongly. There was just something about him that tugged at this cord inside me, almost like we were meant to be attached. If he tugged, I moved closer. If I tugged, he would too. I didn’t doubt that for a second.
“I’m Austin.”
“As in Texas?” I asked.
“The very same,” he chuckled as he admitted that, and it felt like there was a story behind Mr. Texas’s name that embarrassed him a little bit.
“I’m Becs,” I told him.
“I think I’ll stick to Trouble for now, and we’ll see where the night takes us.”
Yep, it was a very happy birthday for me, indeed.
Before
Mr. Texas was far from perfect. That didn’t change the fact that he seemed perfectly suited for me.
“Are you sure you don’t want to watch the,” I swear, the man almost gagged while trying to say the word, “romance.”
“I promise, that is the last thing that I want to watch with you right now. It sets women up with unrealistic expectations and bores men to death.” I pushed a fly-away piece of my very expensive, yet slightly grown out, dirty-blond dye job out of my eyes. “Besides, there’s nothing like an adrenaline-fueled, action-packed movie to build up to the exciting part of a date, right?” I asked him, as his tongue all but rolled out of his mouth in cartoon fashion.
“Can we just skip the movie and go get married?” He teased.