Page 18 of Wrong Place, Wright Time
“It is.” She pushes back through her hand and steps away from me.
“Don’t you think I get to decide that?”
“Yes, actually. I do. Which is why I’m letting you know who I am—who the real me is—before you build up some fantasy of the rich heiress and her yachts and connections. Some men seem to think that being with me is an easy ticket to the high life. But all that stuff you see wealthy people doing on TV and in magazines isn’t my style. I like being right here in my apartment. I like eating the same food, doing the same activities, and I don’t think you understand how…simple I really am.”
“And I don’t think you understand that simple is exactly what I want. I don't know what preconceived notions you have about me, but I don't want nor do I need your money or your connections. I have plenty of my own, and frankly, I’m insulted you’d evensuggestthat’s what I was doing with you.” I lean over and grab my backpack, releasing a sigh as I do. “I came here tonight thinking, yes! Finally! Finally she’s getting it. Finally she understands that I’m interested inher.Not your name, not the people you can influence with it. Just you. If I wanted a yacht or a ticket to the high life, I could get it myself—the same as I have with everything else in my life. I’m not a man who preys upon the success of others to lift myself up. I'm a man who creates my own opportunities. I'm a man who works for what I want. And I’m a man who persists when others wouldn’t. I get that you’ve been hurt before, Isla. The kinds of walls you’ve got built up don’t come from living a fairy tale life. But I also know that I don’t deserve to pay for the shitty behavior of others.” I sling my backpack on my shoulder and turn to walk out. “I’ll see you round, Isla.”
I get about two steps away before her voice stops me. “Wait.”
Stopping, I turn and face her with raised brows. “Why?”
“Because…” She rolls her lips together, and fuck me if I don’t want to rush right over there and suck them free before laving every inch of her body with my tongue. I fucking ache for this woman.
“Because why?”
“Because you haven’t shown me what’s in your backpack yet.”
A smile bursts to life on my face and I swipe a hand over my mouth, slipping the pack of my shoulder with the other. “Showing you this makes me vulnerable, Isla.”
“I know you don’t think it, Banks. But I feel really vulnerable here too. I don’t…” Her eyes stray to the unfinished puzzle on the table. “I don’t share this with anyone either.”
“What about your ex-husbands?”
She barks out a laugh. “The last thing either of them wanted was to spend a night in eating takeout and doing puzzles. They were all about the show. They both wanted to be seen, and I quickly learned that my substance lied in being an arm ornament and a bank card. You’d have thought I learned the first time, right?”
“We all want to trust that the people we love, love us the same way we love them.”
She sniffs slightly as she nods, fighting against her emotions. “I might have a few trust issues.”
“OK,” I say, my voice whisper soft. “Then maybe we work through those one at time. Together.”
“I’d like that,” she whispers.
“Guess I should show you my weird hobby then, huh?”
“Is it D&D?” she asks, her hands fisted at her mouth in anticipation.
“No.” I laugh, unzipping the backpack and reaching in. “It’s weirder.”
A gasp escapes her mouth as I pull out the bamboo hoop securing a piece of cloth with the faded image of a dragon printed on it and colorful threads stitched over most of the print, bringing it to vibrant life. “You cross stitch?”
“Yeah.” I’m thankful for the pigment of my skin’s ability to hide the deep flush of embarrassment that reaches up my neck and makes me wish for a bucket of ice. It takes everything I have not to shove that hoop back into my bag and away from her inquisitive gaze
“Can I touch it?” she asks when she moves closer to get a better look.
My hand shakes. “Sure.”
With slow lift of her hand, she runs the tips of her fingers over each careful stitch I’ve made, moving from the fire coming out of the dragon’s mouth, all the way to the tail then down to the unfinished claws. “What do you do with them when you’re finished?”
I bounce a shoulder. “Nothing. I put them in a box and store them all in a cupboard.”
“I’d frame them and put them on my wall.”
“There’d be no space on your walls if you framed every one I’ve completed.”
“You’ve done that many?” Her eyes lift to mine, and in an instant, the nervous vulnerability I was feeling completely dissipates, because in her eyes is nothing but wonder. She seems to actually think this is cool.I knew I was falling for her for a reason.
“Yeah,” I whisper, my eyes dropping to her lips because all I want to do right now is kiss her and make passionate love with her the way we did that first night. Except this time, neither of us would be leaving. We’ll be waking up next to each other so I can eat her for breakfast.
