Page 38 of Clashing
“Oh.” Her shoulders relaxed, and a smile played on her lips. “Thanks. My anatomy’s a little rusty. I’m not as good as Cath Riley, but,” she shrugged, “I try.”
“I have no idea who that is.”
“She’s my favorite artist.” Scarlett lunged for her phone, tapped the screen, then turned it toward me. “She does super realistic drawings. The reason I got into art in the first place. She’s my idol. It’s my dream to go to one of her shows.”
Her screen showcased a photo of a hand gripping a thigh. Except it said it was a charcoal drawing, not a photo.Impressive.Though I disagreed with her.
I returned the phone. “I think you’re just as good, sugar.”
“Sure you do.”
“Ido.”
“Do you know anything about art?”
Like I said, goddamn pain in my ass.
I dragged my tongue over my teeth. “You wanna take this argument upstairs?”
A smirk formed at her parted lips and dilated eyes. I leaned over the table, and her gaze darted to my mouth. My ringing phone interrupted our moment, and when I retrieved it, Dustin’s name flashed across the screen.
“Is Danny around?” I asked, standing.
“I’m supposed to have dinner with him.”
“And after dinner?”
“After dinner,” she gazed up at me with those bedroom eyes that annihilated my self-control, “I guess I’d like dessert, but not with him.”
“Jesus Christ.” She too easily got me where she wanted me. “I’ll get you dessert, baby.” I hooked my finger on her shirt collar and tugged. “I gotta take this.” I held up my phone, then trudged outside so she wouldn’t hear.
I accepted the call, and during the small talk greeting with Dustin, I watched through the dusty windows as Scarlett picked up her pencil and brought it to paper. Pushing her hair out of her face, she left a streak of black across her cheek.
“Everything okay, Ryker?” Dustin asked.
“Fine.” Try as I might, I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Scarlett. There was no way in hell that fucker was getting his hands on her again. “I need you to do something for me. You got a pen to write down this name?”
Chapter twelve
Rougher
Scarlett
EatingdinnerwithDanwas one of the most chill parts of my day. He had a way of making things easy. Except he noticed something up with me, and that part made my palms sweat.
“Meet anyone with potential to be a friend?” Dan asked as I picked up our dinner plates and carried them to the sink. They were the same mismatched plates he’d had since I met him. In fact, aside from the slight difference in orientation, this kitchen resembled the one he had in New Mexico. Same round table. Same wooden chairs. Same lack of curtains on the window over the sink.
“I don’t know.” I snatched a towel to dry the dishes while he washed them. “I haven’t been out much. Tammy’s nice.”
“I thought you were joining some group.”
“I was going to but I—shit!”
Dan’s knees buckled and he crumpled, barely catching himself on the counter.
I slipped my arm under his and helped him to the closest chair. “What happened?”
“Damn thing gave out on me again.” He rubbed his right knee and winced.
