Page 10

My chest swells with emotion so huge, I’m afraid it’s going to crack me in half. “I want to paint the Greek gods in a way they’ve never been done.” My mouth keeps running, this time giving away secrets I’ve never shared with anyone else.

Dravin doesn’t even pause. He keeps chucking out vibrant green lumps, the fragrance of freshly cut grass assailing me with every movement. It’s delicious. Earthy. It reminds me of how he usually smells, like he’s been walking in a moss-covered forest.

“That’s a tall order.” A few more clumps of grass go flying. He stays crouched down, muscles in his back rippling as he works, his already naturally earthy scent probably combining with all that grass in a delicious, intoxicating—

Stop it right the hell now.

“Given how much artwork including statues already exist.”

“Yes. I suppose so. I don’t really know how it would work.”

“Marcus was obsessed too.”

I freeze, hungry for anything he has to tell me about my brother, even if it’s something I already know.

“You were going by Calliope in Orlando, even though your ID said something else.”

I have no idea how he knows that, but he’s near level omnipotent, so I shouldn’t be surprised.

“Your mom loved the myths. That’s what Marcus said. Most kids got fairy tales, but you got gods and goddess and history lessons.”

“Yes. That’s why I wanted to be an artist. Ever since I was a little girl, I could see those stories coming to life in my mind.”

“What do you want to start with? If you could? Which story?”

That’s not a hard question to answer. I’m just stunned that he asks it so easily. Something deep inside of me stirs to life. You know what’s sexy? Sure, muscles and symmetry, but truly sexy? Intelligence.

“Persephone and Hades.”

“Where he rams the pomegranate into her mouth?”

A bark of laugher escapes. “Something a little less token.”

“I’m sure whatever you painted would be beautiful.”

“Maybe not. Maybe that’s the point.”

“In its own way, then.”

Most artists don’t even understand that beauty isn’t the point of art. How does Dravin just… get it ? How am I even talking with him so easily when I passed him off as nothing more than a brute without a thought in his head for anything other than villain stuff?

Right. Assumptions.

He rights the mower and pushes it into the shed. When he walks back out, he scratches the back of his neck. “I should be getting back to the club. I have a long night of going over their security with Wizard. I’m still learning the tech and their processes.”

Hmm. One thing that doesn’t come so natural that he’s still learning after two weeks. It’s nice to know that Dravin didn’t pop out of the womb as a fully formed stalker. I mean, no. I need to be kinder. Ultimate human tracking machine .

“I’ll send the women over.”

“What? I- here? When?” I never used to be a panicker, but the thought of having to host a bunch of strangers after they know I’ve been avoiding them, spikes my blood pressure.

“Relax,” Dravin tells me pointedly. “They’re nice people. I didn’t just say that to try and sell you on the idea. They’re not going to eat you for lunch.”

He pauses and I freeze up too. I have no idea why he’s watching me, but then I finally realize it’s because I still have his shirt on.

I whip it off, determined not to show how naked and exposed I suddenly feel. It didn’t bother me before he charged in here and covered me up like a Neanderthal.

“When are you sending them? I need to clean the place up. You saw how there are canvases and paints and crap all over.”

“If I mention it today, they’ll probably be over here in oh… a few hours.”

I can’t help it. I flip him off the same way I used to do it to Marcus.

Before I even lower my finger, the gesture churns my stomach, nostalgia piercing right through me.

My head is scrambled. I need walls and boundaries and reason .

That’s a great thing to want, and a hard thing to achieve when every single thought in my head is jumbled and muddled.

It’s been a very long time since I’ve had a clear mind. Far longer than a year.

“I’ll take that as a I’m super excited to kind of start over here and make the best of this place even though I don’t want to be here, Dravin, thank you so much for thinking of me.”

I snap my fingers at him and chuck his shirt at his smug face. Yes. Smug. It’s just unfair how good it looks on him too. He catches it easily and slips it on.

I can’t help but sass him one last time. “You should probably sit for like a whole back tattoo at once, or double sleeves or two full legs. Get all the club’s artists on board. They no doubt have them or know someone that they could get you in with on short order.”

“Tattoos are very permanent identifying markers.”

“Buy packs of stick on ones and fake it then. But you could always get them in places that don’t show.”

“That defeats the purpose of blending in.”

“Sounds like a real conundrum.”

I only realize now that he’s not looking at me. He’s studying the grass, the flowers, the fence, the lawn chair, the house. Anywhere but me. Is he trying to be respectful of the fact that I’m just wearing a bathing suit?

A little tendril of warmth unfurls in my chest before I shove it back down and smother it.

“Maybe go for the bike first,” I cede, without any sass. “At least that isn’t permanent, and it’s probably required if you’re part of a club.” I cock my head. “Do you know anything about mechanics?”

That’s fishing and he knows it, but he gives me something . Actually, he’s given me a lot of things today. Enough to make my head spin for weeks.

“A great deal, actually.”

“Did you learn that as a SEAL?”

“I knew a little bit before I went, but… yes. I learned a lot about engines.”

I hear what he doesn’t say. And a great deal about a whole lot of things that I had no say in and didn’t enjoy.

Whatever happened to my brother in the eight years he was away, he thought becoming a one percenter was either the answer or a lesser evil. He was looking for fucked up family and he found it.

I purposely force my thoughts elsewhere.

To all the canvases I have to clean up and the grass I have to mow over once I move the chairs, the green, wet lumps I have to pick up that Dravin tossed aside.

What I won’t be thinking about is how my heart nearly hammered out of my body when he laid his hands on me, or how I can still smell his scent lingering on me from his shirt.

My pulse picks up, racing so hard that it my wrists ache. I quickly press my hands together in front of me, interlacing my fingers tightly. “What do you think that uh… biker women like?”

He finally looks at me, but keeps his gaze trained on my face.

The sun is in his eyes. He squints against it, but I still catch the whiskey bright flecks in the depths of the brown that the daylight softens.

“I don’t really know. If I had to guess, I’d say that they probably like a lot of the same things you do. ”

“I don’t like much of anything anymore besides working out.” I’ve trained so hard and for so long that I’ve kept up part of my routine here, in the backyard, where I have room to move.

He winces and then immediately throws up a hand to pretend it’s just the sun bothering him, but I regret my frank statement. It sounds like another thing that I’m blaming him for.

I would have, easily, but I have to stop.

This life might not have been planned, or the one I’d have chosen, but it’s the only life I have and trying to escape it isn’t an option. If all I continue to do is sow seeds of bitterness and discontent, what a sorry ass crop that will be.

“From what I understand, most of them have basic self-defense training and there’s someone at the club that ensures every person knows how to handle a gun for safety.

Hart is a good town, and this club is built of good, salt of the earth men, but there are still dangers.

Nothing like LA would have been, but it’s also better to be trained for danger, should it ever land on your doorstep.

It makes me feel immeasurably better that should someone try to fuck with you, you could snap their neck. ”

I think that was his attempt at a joke, although he’s not smiling.

He’s downloaded his good poker face already.

“It’s not like we can just come out here and wrestle each other.”

Now he laughs, the sound surprisingly rich and husky. He appears so much more relaxed now. It’s a relief. I hated that caged, sick, wrong look that I drove him to in the house. “I think that would make for an eventful meet and greet.”