Page 16

An hour ago, I slipped into his T-shirt, unbuttoned my jeans, keeping them fastened with a hair tie I’ve taken to carrying on my wrist for when my jeans become too tight. I’ve alternated between pacing the floor of this small, nondescript, and completely undecorated bedroom, and tossing and turning all over the top of the beige comforter.

If I sleep, I’ll dream of Braxton and the memories of hot sex. Without fail, they come almost every night.

If I talk to him, I risk upsetting him again.

A loud bark from down the hall grabs my attention and I spin on my feet.

Lucy. Such a sweet pup and I can’t forget the surprise on Braxton’s face when she came right to me, panting and licking my hand.

“Remember. If he takes in strays, and takes care of wounded mutts, he’s not an asshole.” I repeat my earlier mantra that gave me confidence to walk through the doors of MadInk, and open the door to my room.

I walk slowly, not wanting to interrupt whatever he may be doing, but the only sounds I hear are Lucy’s playful growls and Braxton’s quiet laughter.

I spot him as soon as I turn the corner. He’s sitting in a dark brown leather chair, one that looks comfortable and worn but expensive. I’m again struck surprised by the fact that a man who owns a tattoo parlor in a less-than-impressive neighborhood to say the least, can afford a penthouse apartment in downtown Portland.

It sparked a hundred questions when I realized he lived in this building, all of them more curious but again, my mouth moved faster than my brain and I offended him.

I’m pretty much batting a thousand on the most embarrassing ways to put my foot in my mouth today.

He tosses the ball to Lucy and she fumbles it against her mouth, bumping it across the hard wood floor. She paws it twice and the ball rolls to my feet. She slides to a halt, sitting back on her haunches and tilting her head up at me.

“She likes you.”

Braxton’s voice startles me and I look up from where I’m crouching to grab the ball. “I’ve never seen her run to a person before and with you it was like she couldn’t wait to get to you.”

I pick up the ball and toss it to Lucy. She watches it roll by and turns back to me, barking once.

“She wants to be petted,” Braxton says and I pull my eyes from the dog to him.

“Can I?”

“She doesn’t bite. At least she hasn’t yet.”

He leans back in his chair, knees spread wide. He’s changed clothes, from his jeans and T-shirt to a pair of cozy gray sweats and, if possible, an even tighter—this time navy—shirt.

I don’t know if his words are a warning or approval so I go to Lucy and hold out my hand for her to sniff. She immediately licks my palm and nuzzles my hand with the side of her head.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” I tell Braxton, but my attention is on Lucy. Her deep black eyes are sad, like she’s been drowning her entire life. Plus, focusing on Braxton is dizzying.

He’s so handsome, sexy, and built. He’s done nothing but take care of me, and all I’ve done is mess it up.

“Can’t sleep?”

I shake my head and stand from petting Lucy. As I step toward Braxton, she crowds my side, walking next to me until I’m at the couch.

I take a seat at the far edge, tucking my feet under me, and Lucy rests her face almost right in my lap.

“She’s really sweet,” I say, smiling at the dog.

When I glance at Braxton, his brow is furrowed. A tumbler of alcohol is against his lips, ink covering his knuckles.

“Hmm.”

It’s all the response I get. I’m not surprised. We know practically nothing about each other and I’ve now invaded his home, even if it was at his suggestion, but I’m no fool. This guy takes in abused animals, and I’m his new pet he thinks he has to nurse back to health.

The thought is depressing and I try to push it to the side while I replay what I want to tell him.

And like Jimmy used to tell me, whenever difficult news needed to be shared, which he had a lot of, it’s best to dive in and get it over with.