Page 25 of Joy
Silas took my hand, pulled me to my feet, and led me off the porch steps and into his backyard. He put his hands on my shoulders and turned me to face away from him. “Look up,” he said.
I did.
And I saw stars.
And not the one or two that shone through the light-polluted skies of LA.
I saw thousands.
Millions.
More than I could comprehend.
A massive streak tore across the sky directly over Silas’s home, like an old battle scar aged white with time.
“Milky Way,” he said. “Pretty, right?”
“Jesus fucking Christ on a crutch.”
He laughed in my ear. “Maybe this is why I’ve never left. I’d miss the sky.”
“I’ve never seen so many stars. Holy crap, I can even see constellations.”
Silas pressed a kiss to the back of my head, and I could feel his smile. He moved his hands down my arms and cautiously slid his fingers in between my own. His grip was firm, warm…grounding.
Chapter Five
THE HUSKY’Sname was Ben. And Ben woke me by whining in my face.
I sat on the couch, blinking and rubbing my eyes. I could feel my hair standing up on end and reached to pat it down. “What do you want, Ben?”
“His morning walk.”
I turned around and looked behind the couch to make out the fuzzy form of Silas coming out of his bedroom. I grabbed my glasses from the coffee table and put them on just as he finished tugging a shirt over his head. I caught a peek at the tanned skin and smoking-hot abs before they disappeared.
Oh yes.
Silas was staring at me too. I wasn’t wearing a shirt. Between the sleeves of tattoos on either arm and the ink across my chest and on my hips, there was a lot to take in, I guess.
“Pretty,” he stated before walking to the front door.
“What’s pretty?”
“Your art.”
I felt a blush creep across my face, and that was even more embarrassing because I was not a blusher, goddammit. “Thanks.”
“Want to take a walk with us?”
“Before coffee? Or a shower? I’m not hungover, but it’s my morning look and people will judge me.”
“There’s no one out here,” Silas answered. “Maybe Mrs. Murphy on her morning jog.”
“Can I throw my clothes in your washer first?”
Silas finished putting his shoes on and walked back to the couch, holding his hands out.
“No—no! The first glimpse of my underwear will not be from my dirty laundry,” I said, shaking my head.
