Page 44 of Rock Out Together
“You said something about food?” I say with great restraint.
“I’ve been warming the grill. Do you like steak? Or I have roasted vegetables if meat isn’t your thing.”
Oh, the innuendo. My voice is deeper when I respond. “Steak is fine.”
“Great.” He pushes off the wall and heads to the outdoor kitchen.
It’s impressive as hell. I take a seat on the comfortable sofa close to him. He offers beer or wine. I take the wine, smiling at the memory of him hating champagne at Franny’s wedding as he grabs a beer.
We talk as he cooks, about how things are going with the new album and Caden taking over vocals. It’s clear how much he loves Velvet Echo. When he isn’t busy cooking, he’s tapping on surfaces with his fingertips, or the utensils. I wonder if he knows he does it.
One thing he doesn’t mention is Christopher. Even though I’m dying to ask, it’s a painful topic. Marissa told me before the photoshoot he was not to be discussed.
“Tell me about your tattoo?”
“Huh?” I look up from his hands, which I’d been staring at.
“Your tattoo.” He lifts a brow.
“Oh, that.”
“Why does it sound like there is a story there?” He flips the steak, and the sizzle and smoke make him lean back a little.
“No story. I had a shitty tattoo done when I was sixteen and wanted to cover it up.”
“Sixteen?” He frowns. “Who tattooed you when you were sixteen?”
“He was training, and he did it for free.”
“Guess that’s why you needed it covered up.”
“Yeah. And before you ask, no, I will never show you what it looked like before. I made sure there was no evidence of that hideous thing left anywhere in existence.”
“You won’t even give me a hint? My mind will just make stuff up if you don’t.”
I shift on the couch and get up, walking closer to the grill so I can top up my wine. Ronan watches me in silence. “And what are you imagining?” I ask, setting down the bottle and lifting the glass to my lips.
“A giant dick.”
I almost spit out my drink.
“It was, wasn’t it?”
“No.” I shake my head. “But that lame ass attempt to get me to tell you didn’t work.”
“Was worth a shot.” He steps back and grabssome plates and pulls a salad out of the fridge. “So, the dragon, does it mean something?”
“They mean power, strength, and wisdom. I’ve got two out of the three. The peonies, they’re Mom’s favorite, and I thought a snake was too cliché. I wanted it to be different but not ugly.”
“Snake tattoos can be cool.”
“Dragons are cooler.”
“Can’t argue with that. What are the qualities of a dragon you have, Cora?”
“Power and strength.” I take another sip as he finishes with the food. “Wisdom, not so much.”
“We’re all learning as we go.”
