10. Artistry First, Tits Second
Chapter 10
Artistry First, Tits Second
Rafe
“I hired Bonnie Davies.”
Izzy sputters into her water. Some of it splashes onto the porch, seeping down through the wooden planks and landing on the pebbled shore below.
“You’re kidding.”
I sip my third cup of coffee for the day and, notably, do not spray it all over my back porch. Even though it’s close to midnight, I’m a decaf kinda guy. I love the taste.
Izzy and I have been out here for less than ten seconds. I’ve settled into my unfolded porch chair, but she’s barely had time to sit on her usual wooden stool. I could have waited to deliver the news that I employed the so-called “sweet Davies girl,” but it was best to rip off the Band-Aid.
“It’s not that big of a deal,” I say.
“It is a big deal actually,” Izzy responds, finally sitting down and folding her legs up onto the stool’s top rung. “You just, what, called her up?”
“She stopped by, asked for an internship, and I said yes.”
“It was that easy? Seriously? What happened to”—she lowers her tone to a lazy drawl—“ I’m not hiring help ”—back to her normal tone—“from last week?”
“Do I really sound like that?” I ask.
“So, you just said yes?” Izzy continues. “No extra conversation?”
I clear my throat, blow out a shaky breath, and instinctually reach for the small pack of cigarettes stacked on my phone. “Well, I kinda blurted it out actually.”
Izzy blinks then, and as if it hits her all at once, she swings her head back to cackle in the evening air. I can’t help the uncomfortable huff of laughter that leaves me as well. I tap the pack on my palm and grab one out.
“Like an overeager schoolboy?” she asks.
“No. I don’t know what came over me,” I admit, my cigarette between my lips. I flick the pink lighter from my pocket and cup my hands around the end as I light it and pull in a breath. That first exhale makes relief wash over me instantly, like all the anxiety tangled up in my lungs dissipates with the haze of smoke blown out to sea. I sigh and tuck my lighter back in my pocket. “She just seemed lost, y’know? I hate seeing that. I’ve been there. It’s rough. Hell, it’s lonely. She doesn’t deserve to feel that way.”
I’ve been thinking about that moment for days now—during my morning exercises, while I’m painting, and even in the shower. This memory is more professional than the illicit thought I was having about my new employee in the shower, but still unwelcome regardless.
It’s too quiet for too long. When I glance back at Izzy, her already-doe-like eyes are wide and focused on me.
“What?” I ask.
“Oh, Rafe …”
I don’t like it when Izzy talks to me in that cooing tone because it means she’s about to tell me something about myself I won’t like. I narrow my eyes.
“Izzy …”
Her lips curl into a knowing smile. “I see right through you.”
“That right?”
She shrugs one shoulder, straightening her posture and confidently sipping her water.
“You won’t date employees,” she announces.
My body tenses. “Correct. I date nobody. And? Your point?”
“But now you can’t date her ,” she says matter-of-factly. She slowly swivels her eyes to meet mine. If they weren’t so blue, they might resemble a predatory hawk’s. “Which is sad because you’re so into Bonnie Davies.”
My throat tightens. My shoulders tense. In fact, my whole body starts to sink under the weight of those words stated out loud. I glance from the corner of my eye over the railing to make sure nobody down by the water heard her. Nobody is ever out this late, but I wouldn’t be surprised if someone was perusing just for fun. This town loves its gossip. I’ve never worried about being in the center of it. I keep to myself, and I prefer it that way. But once you sleep with the town sweetheart … well, paranoia takes over.
The town has been good to me.
When I initially opened Ink she only asked the usual questions of the un-tattooed, like, “Which one hurt the most?” and, “Do you plan on getting more?”
It was innocuous curiosity that didn’t stop her from dragging everyone who worked on Main into my shop for introductions. They all brought offerings of their artistry—candles, sewing projects, and a bowl of soup from Jukes’s Jambalaya. I knew in that moment that I’d made the right decision. I remember calling Leo that day and thanking him for pushing me to move away from our hometown.
And yet I feel like I’m walking on eggshells for the first time.
I moved here to get away from being seen. To do my own thing without bothering anyone else. I don’t like complicated. My dad was complicated when he cheated on Mom with his secretary, when he left us because we weren’t good enough to suit his lifestyle.
Relationships mean you’re either the person with heartache or the asshole who leaves.
I don’t plan to be either.
“I’m not into Bonnie,” I say. No, I lie .
Izzy scoffs. “Then, you’re blind.”
I’m sure not. I know how Bonnie looks. I try not to notice her every day, but she strides in with her bohemian business casual and hardy work boots. Art-student chic. I’ve always been into that look.
“This has nothing to do with the fact that she’s attractive,” I argue, immediately gritting my teeth at the admission. “Don’t look into that. She’s also talented.”
Izzy laughs. “What a terrible cover-up.”
“You know she’s talented. You’ve said it a million times yourself.”
“Yes, but she’s a knockout now too.”
“Let’s not—” I exhale through my nose slowly. “Let’s not talk about that.” I add a, “Please,” for good measure before pulling my cigarette up to smoke. I blow it out. “She needed a job, Iz. I needed help. It worked out.”
“I thought she had other internships?”
“She didn’t get any of them. And she doesn’t want her family to know, so don’t say a word.”
“So, you offered to be the internship she needs.”
“I’m the internship,” I confirm.
“And so that also means you’re the man swooping in to save the day.”
It’s such a ridiculous statement that I don’t respond.
Save the day? Yeah, right. I did the worst thing that could be done. I inserted myself into Bonnie’s lore forever. I took her virginity like the asshole I am. I have too much of my father in me.
But if it wasn’t me … God, I can’t imagine. Another asshole would have been thrilled to take a virgin’s innocence. The fuckin’ creeps. They wouldn’t have asked twice. I realized she was a virgin too late. Bonnie deserved better, but I gave her the best I could. And I’ll kill the next guy if he treats her any less. The thought alone sickens me.
I flick the end of my cigarette into the ashtray propped on the railing and take another sip of my coffee. I cross one leg over the other, resting an ankle on the opposite knee. Normally, it’s difficult to hear the calm waves in Never Harbor, but they can really sing at night. My porch overlooks the coast, and each rush of the oncoming tide bubbles over pebbles below in a secret hush.
“Just be careful,” Izzy murmurs.
“Pardon?”
“She’s the only Davies girl,” Izzy says. “And you’re … you.”
It’s like getting hit in the chest.
I let out a disbelieving exhale. “Izzy … I’m not a menace?—”
“I didn’t say that,” she interrupts, setting her water down on the railing. “I worry about you.”
“You worry about me ?” I ask.
“Yes,” Izzy says matter-of-factly. “I’m always worried about you. You have a soft heart beneath all that intensity.”
“This has nothing to do with my heart,” I scoff. “She needs a professional push. That’s all. And I can give that to her.”
“So …” Izzy says slowly. “Why the sudden interest in protecting Bonnie, of all people?”
But, God, that’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? The mystery that wakes me up at two in the morning, causes me to walk onto this very porch to smoke and simmer.
“She’s the type of woman worth protecting,” I answer, clearing my throat at my own slip of the tongue. “The type of artist, I mean.”
“Simple man,” Izzy says, cocking her head to the side in pity. “Attracted to artistry first and tits second.”
My chest flares with heat. “I don’t want to talk about her like that.”
Izzy’s smile expands into a full-blown grin. “Wow. You really do like her.”
I finally put out my cigarette in the ashtray. Suddenly, it doesn’t taste as good as it should.
“I just want to make sure Bonnie knows someone is in her corner,” I say. “She’s gonna get into trouble if she keeps being as reckless as she is.”
“Reckless?”
I’ve said too much, so I say nothing else.
She snorts in the silence. “Recklessness must run in the family.”
I roll my eyes. “Please don’t compare her to Peter.”
“I never said his name.”
“It’s always there. You just don’t know it.”
Her face falls, like it always does when I insult Peter Davies. “You hate him too much.”
“And you don’t hate him enough.”
Izzy’s eyes narrow. “Maybe Bonnie needs protection, but I sure don’t. Pete’s a puppy dog, not a wolf. Don’t worry about me.”
I shrug. “I’m always worried about you.”
Her scrunched-up face, somehow cuter than menacing when she’s angry, softens at my statement.
“You’re such a softy, Rafe.”
“Hush.”
We exchange a half smile, then look back out at the ocean. Izzy reaches out to grip my shoulder. I cup my palm over it and hold her right back.
She sighs. “Be careful.”
“You too.”