Chapter 16 Milton
Milton
Ichuckled at the formal text and the fact that she’d thought I’d give her a number that wasn’t my own. Unhooking the leash from Sweets’s collar as the two of us sauntered in from our walk, I quickly replied.
Me: Can I give you a ride, Sunshine?
I watched her text bubbles appear and then disappear, then appear again.
Hazel: It is you.
Me: Yours truly. Why do you seem surprised?
Hazel: I thought you might’ve given me your assistant’s number or something.
Me: Now, why would I do that?
Hazel: Privacy?
Me: From?
Hazel: I don’t know! The world?
Me: I only gave my number out to you, Sunshine. Are you calling yourself untrustworthy?
Hazel: Of course not! I wouldn’t do that.
Me: I know that.
Hazel: Well, good.
Me: Glad we sorted that. Haha. Now that you know I’m me, what kind of car trouble are you having? Can I help? I’m pretty good with engines.
I didn’t receive an immediate reply, like all her others.
Hazel: No, nothing you can help with, ha-ha. I don’t even have it.
Me: Oh? Is that a temporary thing? Or …
Hazel: I don’t think so, but I’m not sure.
Me: Are you okay? Were you in an accident?
Hazel: No, no. I didn’t get into an accident. I’m completely fine. My car though … not so much. I’ll explain later. I just wanted to see if you were okay with the shift in appointment.
Me: Let me drive you.
Another long pause. Then her texts bubbles appeared and disappeared. I couldn’t help but laugh to myself as I grabbed a drink from the refrigerator.
Hazel: OMG, I WOULD LOVE THAT!
I chuckled again, thrilled she’d taken me up on my offer so eagerly. My phone immediately chimed with another text.
Hazel: So sorry. My friend stole my phone for a second there. A ride would be great. Thank you.
Choking on my water, I began texting her back. God, I could just see her face turning red with embarrassment.
Me: Your friend sounds like she’s in my corner. I like her. Also, I hope she’s okay, ha-ha.
Hazel: She’s alive. For now.
Hazel: Shoot. I forgot the street number of her apartment building, and she’s hiding in her room. It’s on the corner of Fitzgerald and Weber Street.
Me: I remember perfectly.
Me: I’ll see you in twenty minutes, Sunshine.
The twenty minutes it had taken to get to Hazel felt like a fucking hour. I had weaved through traffic, might have run a red light when I thought I could make it through the intersection while it was still yellow, and sped a ticket-worthy amount of miles per hour over the speed limit.
My heart raced when she told me she was on her way down. I was a patient guy, but I’d be lying if I said those two minutes didn’t kill me a little with each second I stared at the double glass doors.
Finally, she stepped outside, ending my agony.
I waved, slightly relieved to have my helmet hiding some of the excitement, but my bike wavered with my happy dance anyway, giving me away.
Her sheepish smile grew wider with every stride she took toward me. I took off my helmet and handed it to her, and her smile faltered.
“What’s the matter?”
She lifted the helmet and patted the top of her head, then pointed at mine.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be careful.”
Her wrist holding the helmet slacked, and she pinned me with an unamused stare.
“When I’m riding with you, it’s slow and smooth all the way. Precious cargo ’n’ all.” I winked, hoping to ease her worry.
She frowned stubbornly. And, fuck, it was cute.
I tilted my head, yielding. “Okay, okay. Next time?”
She pressed her lips together and gave a firm nod before tugging the helmet over her head. A wave of coconut and vanilla wrapped around me when she climbed on the back of my bike, and it made my mouth water. I’d thought the agony ended when she stepped outside, but now I knew it was only beginning.
Ice filled my veins when I pulled into the parking lot outside Creature Tattoo and I saw a tow truck loading up a destroyed yellow Volkswagen with a sunflower sticker on the bumper.
Hazel’s whole body tensed behind me, letting me know my suspicion was right; that was her fucked-up car.
My hand shot to where hers rested around my waist and held it for a moment. Then I parked and took a breath before helping her off. She couldn’t meet my eyes, even after taking off the helmet, which made my stomach twist.
What the hell happened? When did it happen? Was she working? Oh God, was she inside the car when it happened?
Seeing her discomfort, I followed her into the shop, keeping my questions to myself. I waited for her while she checked in with Nash and got her station set up, until my impatience got the better of me.
I pulled out my phone.
Me: Sooooo, Hazel … dog-sitting.
Me: Where are we on that, by the way?
I hadn’t meant to press. Well, fuck it. I had known I was and done it anyway. But I couldn’t just see her car in that state and not lose my mind a little bit. That hadn’t been a mechanical issue or accident; that had been a personal attack on her.
She grabbed her phone out of her back pocket and read what I’d sent, glancing up at me from beneath her lashes when she finished.
Hazel: You’re really serious about that?
Me: What gave me away, Sunshine?
Giving me a look, she put her phone down and dismissed the conversation with a playful twist of her face.
I took a seat, waiting for her to situate everything.
She scooted her stool over to my side and leaned in, looking down at her tablet with the design she had drawn.
Her hair was down today, but still pulled to one side in a loose braid.
A curly tendril hung just past her brow, resting on her cheek as it cascaded down to the line of her jaw.
I almost reached up to move it, but decided I liked it where it was.
It took me a moment to let my gaze fall from the side of her face to what she was showing me.
She turned her head and faced me. The doe-eyed look she gave me made my breath catch in my damn throat. I held it there for a moment before I coughed just to get it out.
Her cheeks warmed as her pink lips turned up slightly, and then she casually shifted so there was an inch or two more space between us.
It might as well have been a damn mile.
I leaned forward, taking that space back and then some, making sure to look at the artwork this time. You know, focusing. Definitely not letting on that my body was humming at the contact of our shoulders.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her chewing on her lip, twirling her stylus pen in her fingers nervously.
Oh? Now I was making her nervous?
As exciting as it was to turn the tables on her, I was quickly distracted by her drawing.
“Holy shit.” I grabbed hold of the tablet, nearly ripping it from her hand.
Her face lit up as she watched my expression.
My hand flew to my mouth as I took in the fine line work, the shadows, the depth, and the pure fucking talent of her freehanded sketch of the pawprint. She had taken something I thought was pretty detailed and difficult, but also straightforward, and made it her own.
Her hand rose to mine, still covering my mouth, and gently pulled it down.
Realization hit me as I watched her scan my face with pride and curiosity.
She needed to see my mouth to understand my praise for her.
Er, for her work. Her art. It was the same way I was about music.
Sure, hearing how much fans loved a new song or album through the media or finding out we had reached top charts always felt incredible, but seeing the fans singing along and enjoying it in person was a whole other experience.
Hazel glanced down at her efforts and back up at me, waiting for me to say something … but I was still stunned, and I couldn’t get enough of the look on her face. She was glowing. Proud.
“Isn’t it sick, man?” Brian called out from behind his table. “I saw her working on it yesterday morning.” He nodded with both brows raised and then chuckled at my expression. “Told you she was the one to go to for that piece.”
I let out an exasperated breath. “Yeah, I mean, I kind of thought you were just fucking with me that day because you knew something I didn’t.”
“Well, I was. But still.”
“Yeah, man. This is insane. I’m stoked.”
Hazel looked between the two of us with curiosity. She must not have been able to make out our entire conversation with my head turned.
“This is better than anything I could’ve imagined,” I told her, making sure she was looking at me when I spoke.
She giggled, and the breathy, angelic sound that escaped was the best damn thing I’d heard all day.
“Thank you,” she mouthed, signing her words with her free hand.
From her table, she took out a pen and a notepad and set them next to me, bending over to write.
“Ready to start?”
I nodded with excitement, and she got to work, printing the stencil, sterilizing and wrapping her workstation with plastic, and opening a new needle.
She paused for a moment, looking me over.
No headphones? She wrote on the paper.
I shook my head, then situated my hat forward on my head to block the overhead light.
She moved her pen over the paper again, her handwriting so perfect and elegant.
“I’m pretty focused when I’m tattooing, and my head is down, so I can’t really have much of a conversation. It might be kind of quiet and boring for you without anything to listen to.”
“I tend to move a lot more when I listen to music,” I told her, shrugging. “I’m used to keeping beat, so I start shaking my legs or tapping my fingers. Things I definitely shouldn’t be doing when someone has a needle on my skin.”
Hazel’s lips puckered as she mouthed, Ohh.
“I’ll be fine, Sunshine.”
She gave me a thumbs-up as I sauntered around her table. Then she nodded down and gestured for me to sit.
I removed my sweatpants and then adjusted myself on the table to ensure she would have the best angle and I’d be in the most comfortable position.