Page 28 of Find Me

“I’m just… thinking about some things,” I respond, picking another piece of ice out of my now-empty glass, sucking on it until it melts in my mouth.

“Well, that makes two of us.”

He flags down the bartender, and with no other customers to serve, he hurries towards us. Jax orders a whiskey neat for himself, and another of what I’m drinking.

“And a glass of ice on the side,” he mentions before the server returns to the bar, the sound of bottles clinking and ice pouring immediately reaching my ears as he prepares our drinks.

“How did you find me here?” I ask looking at him.

“It’s a little hard to miss a beautiful girl sitting alone in a bar, especially when she’s digging ice out of her glass and chomping on it like a starved chipmunk,” he says, smiling calmly as I feel my face redden with embarrassment.

“Plus, I followed you from Poison Ivy.” He chips in.

“You did what?!” I exclaim, unsure of whether to be embarrassed by the ice or outraged by the intrusion of privacy.

“If you didn’t decide to go on a jaunt at three in the morning… in the dark… by yourself… I wouldn’t have had to follow you.”

“I wasn’t on a jaunt. I was trying to clear my head,” I say by way of explanation.

“Maybe try something less dangerous next time, hmm?” he suggests, no hint of teasing or malice in his voice.

I roll my eyes at him as I cross my arms. “We just met and you’re already telling me what I can and can’t do?” I say, stealing glances at him as we wait for the bartender to return with our drinks.

“Some girls like that, or so I’m told,” he says with a mischievous grin.

“Go bother them, then,” I say dismissively, unable to stop the smile that finds its way to my own lips.

He laughs and I find myself thinking how I could get used to the sound, watching his eyes dance and a lightness take over his body, letting me have a glimpse of who he is underneath his tough exterior.

“I’d much rather be here,” he says with a smile, and I shake my head, unsure of why that could be. He looks at me before continuing, “What would you usually be doing right now if you weren’t here?”

His question catches me off guard, and I find myself playing with my nails as I try to think.

“I don’t really know,” I say looking at him, not wanting to tell him that I spend most nights nowadays either out drinking with Rhett or at home underneath him. I think about earlier this year, before I started seeing Rhett and working at Poison Ivy. “I used to spend all of my free time painting.”

“You’re an artist?” he asks as he leans forward, seemingly genuinely interested in my response.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” I say with a laugh, “but I’ve been painting since I can remember… it’s always been something I love to do.”

“Interesting… what do you like to paint?”

“Anything. Everything,” I say as I relax into my chair, the conversation making me feel at ease in his presence. “I used to paint places and animals when I was younger, you know, typical stuff. But as I got older, I started painting everything I experienced and the emotions that came with it. Anything I felt, I tried to put it on the canvas, and somehow when I finished a painting, everything I was feeling just made sense.” I look up at him and see him smiling. “Sorry, I know you’re probably thinking that sounds crazy.” And I look down at my hands, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“Actually,” he muses, “I was thinking that makes perfect sense.”

I look up at him and see understanding behind his eyes, and not for the first time I find myself wanting to know more about him.

My thoughts are interrupted a moment later as the bartender places our drinks in front of us, and I can’t help but smile at the glass of ice as I pull it towards me, slowly moving it across the sticky table.

My eyes follow the bartender as he walks back to the bar, where he begins polishing another glass as he watches the front door, perhaps hoping for another customer to serve.

Jax clears his throat, and I look only to find him staring at me intently, his green eyes alight.

“What?”

“You’re breathtakingly beautiful, love.” He all but whispers, and I feel the heat rising in my face.

“And I want to know what you’re so torn up about that you chose to come here and drink instead of go home and paint.”

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