Page 75 of Top Shelf
“I’m back.” He kisses my forehead, then settles onto the couch next to me, tugging me back against him, and I go willingly. I like that he wants to touch me so often. That’s how it’s been since he got back from his road trip, and it always makes those butterflies go wild. I melt into him as he asks, “How was your day?”
We left at the same time this morning. I headed to the bar in the new car Gavin helped me pick out last week for a quick afternoon shift to cover for a coworker who was at the doctor, and Gavin was attending a team event.
“Good,” I answer. “While my savings account doesn’t care for it, I like the short shifts. Gets me out of the house just long enough to smell like beer, but not long enough for me to start questioning my life choices. How was your event?”
His chest rumbles with a soft laugh. “It was fun. The kids were adorable, though that’s no surprise. They usually are.”
“You did a skate with them, right?”
“Yeah, and there was this one kid—Jagger—he was so damn good. He’s only eight, but he has a hell of a future ahead of him if he keeps it up. I thought for sure he was going to toss mitts with Keller, and not in a joking way either. He took the gameveryseriously.”
His voice is full of awe, as it always is when he talks about his nieces and nephews. It’s cute, and honestly, fitting for him. I bet Gavin would make a great father. Flashes of two dark-haired kids float through my mind. They’re laughing as Gavin chases them through the yard, and I watch from the porch with a smile.
What the hell? Where did that even come from?
I shake the thought away. It’s silly, andsonot happening. We’re just having a little bit of fun. Nothing serious. Certainly nothing that warrants thoughts like that, no matter how nice they were for a few fleeting moments. The butterflies in my belly settle, and I miss their flurries instantly.
Gavin clears his throat, then says, “So, what were you working on so intently?”
Intently? How does he know I was working intently? Was he watching me? Was he standing there much longer than I realized?
“I was drawing.”
He sits forward, which sends me propelling in the same direction, and he catches me before I fall off the communal couch.
“Sorry,” he says, leaning around me to catch my eyes. “I’m just… You were drawing?”
His excitement is contagious, and I find myself smiling right along with him.
“I was drawing,” I repeat.
His eyes twinkle, and he presses his lips against mine lightning fast—so quick I barely have time to react—then he’s back to grinning at me likehe’sthe one who picked up a pencil for the first time in over a year.
“Can I see?”
I tense instantly, and Gavin doesn’t miss it.
“You know what? Never mind. Forget I asked. It’s your art. You don’t have to share that with me, especially since you just got it back. I shouldn’t have even asked.”
His words echo my exact thoughts earlier, and it’s almost eerie how well he understands me. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, though. It was like that our first night together, too. He never made me feel bad about anything then, even if I did give myself emotional whiplash.
I’m overwhelmed with the sudden feeling to share my drawings with him. I don’t want to; Ineedto. I retrieve the sketchbook I tucked away and flip it open, handing it to him. He settles back against the cushion, his eyes tracing over the page that’s full of thin and thick strokes and so many delicate curves. When he doesn’t say anything for several moments, I begin to get antsy, wringing my hands in my lap.
“Well?”
He drags his eyes from the page, looking up at me. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but what is it?”
My eyes fall to slits. “What do you mean you don’t know what it is?”
His eyes widen, his breath getting caught in his throat. I last all of five seconds before I break, laughing at him.
“Had you going, didn’t I?”
He blows out a huff of air. “Fuck, you really did.” He looks at the page again. “It’s beautiful, by the way. I don’t know if I said that, but it is.”
“Beautiful even if you don’t know what it is?”
He points to himself. “Hockey player, remember? Not an art connoisseur.”
