Page 12 of Harvest Brew With the Mountain Man
I smile around another bite. “No shit. And this one’s better.”
“Fuck yeah,” he says softly before taking a big bite.
We finish in companionable silence, lightly moaning after different bites. When we finish, West hands me a water bottle, and I help clean up, even though he protests.
“Okay. I think I can venture into a wonderful food coma after that,” I pat my stomach, rubbing his soft sweatshirt. I still plan to kidnap it somehow.
“Same,” he grins. “Come on,” his head tips toward the backyard, which I can see clearly through the four large window panels. “Room’s this way.”
I follow him to the hallway by the terrace doors, where two bedrooms are adjacent to one another. He points to the one straight ahead. “My room. The master.” Then, the second door, revealing a guest room slash office. “Bathroom’s down the hall. Connects to a door to the master as well. The light engages a fan, so I’ll know if someone’s in there. I won’t stumble in to pee or anything.”
I laugh. “Good to know.”
A queen-sized bed sits in the center of the room, draped in dark emerald sheets that almost look black. Seriously, so cool. This is almost my style to a tee. Even the accent wall where his desk is has been painted a deep peacock green. The bed’s headboard is intricately designed with panels in dark brass with light gold etchings.
“Okay. Tomorrow, when my brain is functioning, we’re going to talk about your aesthetic in here because I’m losing my shit with all this.”
“What are you talking about?” he smiles. Not a grin, not a teasing smirk, but an honest-to-goodness smile.
“I think we’re style besties. I honestly would’ve picked this very mood palette and approved so many elements in here.”
He watches me intently. “You love this, don’t you? Design.”
Now, it’s my turn to smile. I sit on the edge of the bed. “When I learned all that fiddling with changing my room a hundred times could actually be a job, it’s like everything clicked. It wasn’t easy at first. They try to put you in this design box. Mainstream bullshit. But I fought it. I loved when dark academia became popular. Suddenly, my ideas weren’t so far-fetched or dark. Personally, I love soft-goth aesthetics.”
“So why work at a tattoo studio?” he asks, leaning against his desk.
“Out of college, the job market sucks. They want experience but you need experience out of college. It’s a catch-22. I just needed money for living expenses. Stumbled on the front desk job when I saw they were hiring. Didn’t expect to stay so long but eventually, they saw my designs and offered me a side job. To redesign a corner of their studio.”
“No shit,” he grins.
I laugh, nodding. “Yeah. It was wild. And incredible. The studio was the perfect fit for what I could offer design-wise. They loved it so much, they budgeted for a bigger reno the following year. Then I went into freelance and got additional work since the guys there constantly pimped me out when clients complimented the space.”
“That’s amazing, Nyx. I love that for you,” he genuinely says, his eyes soft and admiring.
The nickname, already growing on me, I feel my body blush. It’s a reminder that West sees the woman I am today and not the eighteen-year-old of the past.
“I need to give you a nickname,” I say out of nowhere.
“Oh, really?” he tries not to smile.
“Do you have one already?”
“You know, Nyx. No one has ever given me one.”
I mock gasp. “That can’t be. The king of nicknames and no one’s knighted you with one?”
“Afraid so. Up for the challenge?”
“Oh. Absolutely.”
“Better make it a good one,” he challenges.
“Just you wait, West Hunter.”
Chuckling, he straightens up. “Alright then. I’m gonna leave you to rest.”
“Hey, wait,” I stop him, remembering. “What happened to the bar?”
