Austentatious

Likely the fact that he’d paired a black “Keep Austin Weird” tee with his knee-skimming plaid had something to do with it. Or it simply could have been that he was heart-stoppingly gorgeous even in a skirt.

After fibbing on the phone to my boss’s voice mail, I’d called Sean and laid out my first request. Not surprisingly, he hadn’t balked.

The kilt had been nonnegotiable, and the fact that I’d planned that aspect of the day didn’t make the reality of seeing Sean in a kilt any less of an adventure. Besides, I had no idea what he might be wearing underneath. And that had adventure written all over it.

With that single exception, I’d taken the advice. Weird, yes. But today, by its very nature, was deviant from the norm—a Wednesday without work, a day of surprises with a sexy Scotsman ... Why not do the opposite? It had worked for Costanza. I do admit to balking slightly when faced with the latest quote-of-the-moment: “ ‘It was, perhaps, one of those cases in which advice is good or bad only as the event decides.’ Persuasion,” but I tried to let it roll off me. So while I was about to eat breakfast tacos with a man in a kilt, beyond that, I had no plans.

A nervous shiver crawled up my spine, and I suddenly felt very Rain Man. No plans ... not good ... not good ... not good at all. But then Sean leaned in, laid his warm hand against my shoulder, and kissed me on the top edge of my cheekbone, and I felt instantly calm. Well, calm-er.

“I’m glad to see you’ve gotten into the spirit of the day, but fair is fair. You chose my clothes, so I’ve chosen yours.”

My eyes flashed wide, swung up to meet his, then dropped to zero in on the package he was holding out to me, wrapped in purple paper and tied with black ribbon. I reached for it slowly, simultaneously desperate and afraid to open it. I had, after all, agreed to all of this.

As Austin’s breakfast crowd streamed into the restaurant around us, anxious for their first cup of coffee and the aroma of homemade flour tortillas, I tore into the paper, finding more purple beneath, in the form of a T-shirt. Holding the edges, I let it drop down before me, a spike of shock zooming straight to my stomach. I glanced at Sean to see a smug smile lingering on his lips.

He’d bought me the shirt I hadn’t had the nerve to buy myself: “Keep Austin Weird.” I’d never mentioned it to him, and yet, after nearly a week-long trial by fire, on the day I imagined I might deserve it most, he had it wrapped and ready. At this moment, I could almost believe that Sean knew a bit of magic himself. Biting my lip, I glanced down at my pale pink T-shirt and charcoal gray hoodie and vowed to change at the first possible opportunity.

As I stepped closer to wrap Sean in an impulsive hug, he shifted slightly—I suspect deliberately—setting our lips on a collision course. I kicked the unexpected PDA up a notch, clinging to him with a strange urgency for the day ahead.

“Like T-shirts, do you? Good to know,” he said, grabbing my hand, tossing the paper, and pulling me into the restaurant.

Seconds after we ordered I was dragging off my hoodie, draping it over the back of my chair, and heading for the bathroom to change. By the time I got back our breakfast was already on the table and Sean’s coffee cup was being refilled. Evidently the time I’d spent admiring myself in my Weird shirt had flown by, and now I was eager to dig in to my huevos rancheros. The shirt, it seemed, had taken the edge off my squeamishness.

“Let’s have a look at your list for the day,” Sean suggested, dousing his taco with hot sauce.

I sat up a little straighter before revealing, “I didn’t make a list.”

“Sorry?” Sean looked up from his plate, turning his head slightly, bringing his ear around.

“I decided to go a little crazy today. The kilt is the whole plan.”

A great big watermelon smile spread across Sean’s face. “It is, is it? Were you hoping the lack of pants might somehow thwart the success of my plan for the day? Or is it just that little thing you have for me rearing its lusty head?”

Despite the blush creeping up my neck, I managed to answer coherently. “Will the lack of pants trip you up?” Curious minds wanted to know.

“Does it matter?”

“It depends on what you have planned.” And whether or not I’m chicken to go through with it.

“Shall I tell you?” The man was a flirting fiend.

“Please do.” My heart had started to beat a little faster in nervous anticipation.

Sean wiped his mouth with a napkin and settled his hand loosely around his coffee cup. “I thought we could stop off at Central Market, put together a picnic lunch, then drive up to Mount Bonnell. When we’ve squeezed all the romance out of that, I imagined us strolling through Zilker Park, possibly dipping our toes into Barton Springs, and then renting a canoe to row out on the lake to watch the evening exodus of bats. All very tame. But there is, naturally, another list.”

My blood pressure suddenly spiked, and I forced myself to ask, “Why is there another list?”

“Well, I see no reason to trek all over the city separately. Gas is ludicrously expensive, and the two-car- length separation puts me at a distinct disadvantage.” He paused, his lips curving into a rueful twist, but I didn’t rise to the bait, instead waiting for the big bang. “Sooo, I had this brilliant idea: You could clap on the spare helmet, and we could ride together. On the bike.”

I opened my mouth to object, trying to get the words out around the pulse pounding in my throat, but Sean was quicker. And clearly not hampered by frenzied nervousness.

“You can, of course, veto the motorcycle, but you only have the one veto, luv. And I am determined to inject a little daring into your day.”

I tapped the tines of my fork against the edge of my plate in a bit of a temper. “You’re stooping to blackmail ... really? What about my half of the day?” I demanded. I might not have had a plan, but if nothing else occurred to me, I could always stall.

“Don’t think of it as blackmail—more as a call to adventure. And as the only one with a plan, I thought we’d run through that first and leave the evening—post-bats—to you.”

Post-bats. Twilight and after. I was in charge of the after-dark activities. Damn Fairy Jane! When was it ever a good idea not to have a plan! So it was going to be left to me to either plan a seduction or circumvent one. Not only that, but I quickly needed to decide whether or not I wanted to risk vetoing the motorcycle and having Sean come up with the threatened alternative.

Sean waited patiently as I glared. He’d done this on purpose. Crowding my mind with two separate and distinctly worrying topics, he’d hijacked my thought processes and sent me into a tizzy of uncertainty. As deviousness went, it was very clever—I was impressed, and I wasn’t.

I lapsed into a silent pro / con debate as I worked through the rest of my breakfast. Sean, wisely, did not attempt to sway my decision.

Con: It’s a motorcycle! No seat belts, no doors, just open air and pavement.

Con: This is Texas Hill Country—everywhere you look are roller coaster roads!

Pro: It’s an excuse to wrap my arms around Sean and hang on tight.

I flicked my gaze up to make sure he wasn’t watching me, watching a new wave of flush ride up my neck.

Pro: Only one of us is wearing a skirt, and skirts tend to whip about in the wind... .

Whew! I could feel the blush crest at my cheeks and then flood onto my forehead, but I had the salsa as an alibi. I reached for my water glass and took a long, cool sip. My eyes shifted to look at Sean, and the white words on his shirt seemed to be shouting at me. It might not be weird to trek around Austin on the back of a motorcycle, but it was weird to do it with a man in a kilt, it was weird for me, and it was definitely weird to have to assemble a pro/con list about it. Seeing as I’d dedicated the day to the business of getting weird, how could I say no?

“Okay, fine. We can drop my car back by my house.”

“Brilliant! You’ll love the bike.”

Judging by the worrying view in my rearview mirror on the drive back home, I rather doubted it. To take my mind off my upcoming “adventure,” I decided to call Beck for a little pep talk. Seeing as I was shortly going to be pressed up against Sean, holding on for dear life on the back of a motorcycle, it was looking like there might not be another opportunity.

“Mmmph. ’lo?” Obviously she wasn’t awake yet.