Page 15 of Tru Blue
She followed him through a door and up a set of stairs, worrying about the Sure you do. Was her interest that obvious? “I can come back another time. I should have called to see what time you closed.”
“You’re here now,” he pointed out. At the top of the stairs, he managed to turn the doorknob while holding both kids, then pushed the door open with his foot.
She followed him into a loft-style apartment. Wide-planked wood floors ran beneath a comfortable-looking brown couch with deep cushions. She wanted to crawl onto it with a book and disappear for hours. No, she wanted to crawl onto it with Truman and…She forced her eyes away from the sex-pit sofa, taking in a number of sketch pads and the Parenting magazine he’d bought last night littering the coffee table. Across the room glass doors led to a deck, and to the right of them, a large alcove housed several tall metal tool chests and a wooden workbench with a variety of tools hanging on the wall above it. Beside that stood a beautiful big arched window. To her left was an open kitchen with the bottles, jars of baby food, and other things they’d bought the night before. She glanced up at the exposed rafters in the ceiling. The tidy apartment was masculine and rough, like Truman. She felt like she should lower her voice an octave or ten before speaking.
“Can I at least help you somehow? Want me to take Kennedy while you lay Lincoln down?”
He eyed the little girl. “I’ve got her.” He lifted his lips in a half smile and kissed Kennedy’s forehead. “I’ll be right back.”
He disappeared through the hallway to their right, and she took a few steps into the apartment, listening intently as Truman’s low voice filtered in from the other room. She knew it was rude to eavesdrop, but he sounded so calm and sweet, she couldn’t help herself. She heard the water turn on as he talked Kennedy through brushing her teeth. Then it became quiet again, just his steady footsteps moving across the floor.
She couldn’t make out his low, soothing murmurs. Curious, she stepped to the edge of the hallway, and his voice became clear.
“And Tinker Bell met Snow White in the forest, where they made applesauce.” Oh boy. He’d mixed up his fairy tales. She smiled, listening intently as he continued his tale. “And the biker boys carried Tinker Bell in a special carriage to a beautiful field where Winnie the Pooh was waiting with a big jar of honey…”
She couldn’t suppress her smile at the silly story, and tiptoed away, setting the bag of goodies she’d brought on the end table. She sat down on the couch to wait and picked up one of the sketch pads that was lying open, gingerly leafing through the first few pages, then slowing to take a better look. Graffiti-style sketches of people and animals filled every page, mesmerizing her with their fluidity and tortured expressions. A kaleidoscope of blacks and grays created eyes, angry mouths with viperlike fangs, contorted, tormented faces, dragons, and more. Their depths and emotions clawed off the page, bringing rise to goose bumps on her arms.
A large tattooed hand came down over the edge of the sketchbook, and she looked up into Truman’s hard expression.
“I’M SORRY. I was just…” Gemma’s brows knitted, her eyes pleaded, and then a devastatingly sexy smile spread across her lips. She splayed her hands in the air and shrugged, looking so fucking adorable it was hard to remain irritated at the intrusion of his privacy. “I was being nosy. I can’t help it. It’s who I am, and those drawings are amazing. Are they yours?”
Truman tossed his sketchbook on the table, trying to wrap his head around the web of emotions that were twisting and tangling inside him. In the past twenty-four hours his life had careened in every direction, and he felt like he was trying to balance on two wheels instead of four.
“They’re nothing.”
“Nothing?” Her voice arced up with surprise. “They’re bold and dramatic, and so different from anything I’ve ever seen.” She went for the sketch pad.
“Please don’t.” His stern tone stopped her midreach.
Her eyes darted to him, challenging and confused. She leaned back on the couch and her dress hiked up temptingly high on her thighs.
