Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 198(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 198(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
I rest my palm over his scar. If the kid had aimed his gun any higher, Jonah might not be here today.
“Backup arrived in time to catch the crackhead but the damage had been done. Eighteen months, three surgeries, and over a hundred hours of physical therapy later, I decided it was time to retire.”
I can tell it still hurts him to talk about what happened. I’m sure it was even more devastating to go through. As heartbreaking as it must’ve been to give up his job, I can’t help but feel grateful that Jonah survived the whole ordeal.
He shakes his head like he’s shaking off a ghost. “Enough about my past life. Tell me everything about you.”
Everything? I spear some food onto my fork. “There’s not much to know.”
“Now I know that’s not true, angel.” He watches me chew and swallow, then wipes my lower lip clean with his thumb. “What do you do for fun?”
I shrug, though I know the answer. Talking about my art isn’t something I do with most people, unless they want me to design a tat. Then again, Jonah isn’t most people, and eating a delicious homemade breakfast, made by a gorgeous man, in an equally gorgeous kitchen, isn’t something I do either, yet here I sit.
“I like to draw,” I tell him.
“What do you like to draw?”
I’m hit with the urge to show him my sketchbook, which is crazy because I’ve never shown it to anyone. If I’m sketching a tattoo, I’ll do it on printer paper. My sketchbook is like a diary, for my eyes only. But Jonah’s been so open and honest about his past, I want to return the favor. Still, if I show him my drawings, and he thinks they’re stupid, it’ll kill me—like, literally stop my heart dead.
He takes my hand in his big bearpaw. “Your art is important to you.”
There he goes again, reading me like an open book. I nod my head.
“If it’s important to you, angel, then it’s important to me.” He squeezes my hand, his evergreen gaze warming my face like sunshine.
“I’m afraid you’ll think they’re stupid.”
“Nothing you have to show me could ever be stupid. I’d love to see your work.”
My work. He’s already taking my drawings seriously, and he hasn’t even seen them. Brushing aside my fear, I run upstairs and fish my sketchbook out of my backpack. When I come back down, I can’t help but feel a little anxious as I hand it off to him.
Jonah flips through the pages, turning the sketchbook this way and that, to get a different perspective on things. His phone vibrates on the kitchen table, but he ignores it. I chew my bottom lip. Somehow, I feel more naked and exposed now than I did in his bed.
“These are awesome, Teagan,” he finally says.
My pulse skips. “You think so?”
“Hell yeah, I think so.” He points out the ones he likes best, and I can’t help the smile that pulls at my lips. Jonah likes my work. The thought sends a rush of warm tingles into my belly...and other places.
“I sometimes draw tattoos for people. I’ve made pretty good money off them. Not as much as I made stocking cans of beans and frozen lasagnas at Trader Joe’s, but it feels good to be paid for my art.” Speaking of my old job... “Mary said if things worked out, I could look for a job and start paying rent.”
Jonah shakes his head. “My little girl’s not paying for anything. If you really want a summer job, you can work for me. I can always use someone with an eye for detail.”
“You mean, like, working on houses?”
“That, or office work. If you’re hoping for something creative, parents are constantly asking my painters for murals on their kids’ walls.” He lingers on a page containing five versions of the same blackbird opening its wings. “Was this a tattoo design for someone?”
“It was supposed to be for me.”
He eyes it with renewed interest. “Why a blackbird?”
“You’re going to think it’s cliché.”
He frowns and gives me a look like I should know better. I sigh.
“It’s from the Beatles song,” I tell him. “Blackbird sings at night, learns to fly and all that. I went to a shop last month and tried to get it done, but they said I was too young.”
“You’re not too young anymore, angel.” Heat flares in his eyes, and my clit pulses at the memory of the very grown-up things we did last night. I gasp as his hand finds my thigh and then glides higher, underneath my tee shirt. “I know you’re not used to people taking an interest in you with no ulterior motive, but you can relax and be yourself now, angel. Daddy just wants to know you.”
Just hearing Jonah call himself Daddy is enough to calm me down and light me up in equal measure. He cups my pussy, and I push against him, wincing a little at the ache.