Page 95 of Cookout Carnage
Yes, for you.He cleared his throat. ‘Sure. Is this from the diner?’
She nodded. ‘I picked it up this morning.’
‘Is it ever closed?’ he asked, helping her lay out the plates.
‘Rarely. We’ll meet my, er, parents there later.’
‘Because of the water damage at yours?’
Her attention was all on the food. ‘Yup. It isn’t suitable for guests right now.’
They ate in companionable silence, the sound of water and birds all around them. The sun had moved position by the time they boxed everything back up, casting half the rock in dappled shade. As time passed, Sherilyn glanced more frequently back down the river to the path, as if worried people might arrive any moment. Any ideas he had about laying her back and enjoying dessert as her thighs tightened around his head would have to wait.
‘So, is it swimming time?’ he asked.
‘We have to wait for our food to go down first.’
‘Where’s your sense of—’
‘Cramp?’ She glanced down the trail. ‘Okay, but no skinny-dipping. Promise.’
He saluted. ‘Scout’s honour.’
Okay. Here goes nothing.Tristan pulled off his T-shirt and tossed it on top of the bags. He heard a sharp intake of breath.
‘Tris.’
He took off his glasses and put them on top of the T-shirt.
‘Yes?’
‘You, erm.’ She cleared her throat. ‘You have a tattoo.’
He faced her. She was slightly blurry, but he saw her surprise. He shrugged, as if it was nothing.
Her warm fingers brushed his upper arm.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she breathed.
He gritted his teeth, willing his body to behave.
‘I have so many questions.’
He shrugged again, not knowing what to say or if he could even form words. The design was made up of Celtic-style lines, a graphic representation of the image he wanted.
‘It’s a wolf?’ she asked.
He nodded.
‘Howling?’
He nodded again. His skin tight and twitchy under her touch.
‘I, er, I never expected you to have a tattoo.’
His shrug filled the silence.
‘Can I ask what the story is behind it?’
