Page 75 of Exposed Ink

Taylor’s face lights up, and I pray Jamie doesn’t fuck this trip up because I’ll be the one dealing with a brokenhearted daughter while she’s off jet-setting to her next location.

“NYU has opened their college tour dates,” she continues, “and one of them is during my spring break, so I was wondering if you could meet us in New York. Mom said she’s planning to fly out of JFK anyway, so it would save her the drive back to Brookside, and we could spend a few days in the city, exploring NYU and doing their tour. They said applications will be opening in August, and that’s only, like, five months away. Plus, this will mean I won’t miss any school.”

Her eyes go dramatically wide, and I stifle a laugh that I know she won’t appreciate.

“Oh!” she exclaims, glancing at Kinsley, her eyes softening. “The reason why I’m glad you’re here is, you have to come. Dad hates the city. He avoids it at all costs. But you said you used to live there, right? And you went to NYU. So, I need you there to show me everything.”

“Taylor …” I start, knowing the wordnoisn’t in Kinsley’s vocabulary when it comes to my daughter.

“I’d love to,” Kinsley says before I can finish. “I haven’t been there in forever, but, yeah, I know the city like the back of my hand. I can show you all the great hangouts and places to eat and study. And there are so many cute bookshops. Who knows? Maybe we can make a lover out of your dad.” She bumps me playfully, and I shake my head.

“Yes!” Taylor squeals. “That would be awesome! Can we, Dad? Please?”

She flutters her lashes at me, and I chuckle.

“Yeah, let me know the dates you’re going with your mom and the date of the college tour, and we’ll plan it out.”

“Yay!” Taylor throws herself across Kinsley’s lap so she can hug me. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

She clambers off the couch, her phone in her hand. “I’m going to text Mom and let her know. I have to get to work. Thank you! Love you!”

And like the tornado she is, she’s out the door as quick as she came.

“Wow,” Kinsley says with a light laugh. “She’s …”

“A lot?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “Passionate. I love that. She’s outgoing and smart and so … adult. You’ve done such a good job with her,” she says, snuggling into my side. “I know you think she might be affected by her mom being gone, but because of you, she’s thriving.”

I wrap my arm around her and grab the remote to turn the movie we were watching back on. “You spending the night?” I ask.

“Actually, I think I’m going to go home.” She glances up at me apologetically. “I have no clothes, and we both work in the morning.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her she should just move in here, and then the problem would be solved, but she’d probably freak out and run. So, instead, I throw the remote to the side and flip her onto her back so I’m hovering above her.

“Then, I’d better make the most of the time I have with you.”

* * *

Me

What are you wearing?

I hitSend on the text and chuckle, knowing this text is going to go one of two ways—Kinsley will either go along with it or tell me to go fuck myself. Either way, it’ll be worth whatever response she gives me because I finally have her number.

Well, technically, I’ve had her damn number for quite some time. But now, I know I have it and can text or call her anytime I want. I’ve actually known that I’ve had it for a couple of days, but since she’s been with me, this is my first time using it.

The bubbles appear and then disappear, and for a moment, I second-guess myself because what if she thinks I’m being serious and questions the man she’s been spending time with?

Shit. I really didn’t think this through.

I click on the text box, ready to backtrack, when the most breathtaking image comes through of Kinsley. She’s lying in what looks like her bed, based on her position. Her face looks freshly washed and moisturized—the way it does when she’s done using her skin care stuff when she’s at my place. She’s smiling, and her shiny lips look plump and kissable. I can’t see too far down since it’s a selfie, but she’s sporting a tank top that shows off the swells of her breasts, making my mouth water.

Fuck, I hate being away from this woman. If she were with me, I wouldn’t have to settle for a picture of her. I could hold her and touch her and kiss her all I wanted.

My text was initially meant to be flirty, but when I click to respond, my tone has changed.

Me

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