Home > Lots Of Naughty & A Little Nice(4)

Lots Of Naughty & A Little Nice(4)
Author: Leigh Lennon

Again, her humor comes out in droves. And I’m laser-focused on her, on everything from how her long legs disappear up her pencil skirt to how perky her breasts are hugged tight in a constrictive as sin burgundy sweater. “He also mentioned how you were the one he scared away from the gallery a few days ago.”

She gives me a simple bob of her head, with no indication of whether she plans to come back to purchase the painting.

“Ro means well. He was just protecting me.”

The glint in her eyes at the mention of his protection of me almost glistens with her already gem-like emerald orbs.

“I know. I got quite mad, but at the end of the day, I was in the wrong,” she admits, but that doesn’t help, considering the piece is still for sale.

The topic is over, and she doesn’t offer up any more information. And looking around her kitchen, and having passed the living room and dining room, too, I realize there’s no furniture. “Are you staying here tonight without anything?”

She lets out a long, strangled breath, looking past me to her sister, who has an opposite reaction with an almost obnoxious laugh.

“Did I miss something?” I’m standing between them but move back in order to see both of them and get caught up on the inside joke I don’t understand.

Whitney begins, “Yeah, my sister’s an idealist. In her mind, she has this perfect plan of what the first night in our new house should look like.”

I twist around just in time to see Avery flip off her sister. “You’re a little shit, you know that, right, Whit?” The sweetest laughter leaves Avery’s lips, and no wonder Ro was a blundering idiot when he met her again today. She’s amazing, and I haven’t even gotten to the good parts yet.

“I’ve been a little shit since the day Mom placed me in your arms. But you love me anyway.”

It’s a warm and tender moment between these two, and I hate to speak, breaking it up so soon. “Well, I have a couple of chairs in my garage I can bring over. And a few air mattresses. You’ll have a place to sit, and you’ll be comfortable.” My eyes fall to the food on the counter. “Do you have something to cook with? Let me order you dinner. My way of making up for your almost heart attack.”

She holds her hand up, and I know she’ll fight me. “Yes, we’d love it.” It’s her little sister who answers me. “It was a wonderful idea, Ave. But you forgot the skillet and plates. Let’s have your nice dinner tomorrow when we have a table to sit at? Please, sis?”

Somehow, if I were to wager a guess, I’d say the little sister has her older sister wrapped around her pinky.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right, Whit.” Her attention is back on me. “And thank you. But it’s not necessary.” It’s my turn to wave her off because it’s very necessary. And when her eyes lock on mine, the attraction on my part is immediate. “And I hope I wasn’t too hard on your boyfriend. I was teasing him, attempting to make light of the situation, and I’m afraid he thought I was upset.”

He did think that, but then again, Ro may be great at a million things, but reading people isn’t one of them. “Nah, he got it.”

She rewards me with a sweet smile, her radiant whites shining through. She gives me a wink, one I’ll hold onto, because after only ten minutes in her presence, I know she’s someone special.

 

 

Our house is immaculate because it’s what others see. However, our garage is an utter pigsty. We’ll never have room to park in it. Between my art supplies and Rowan’s dinosaur toys, I seldom open the electric door but enter the garage through the side. I know exactly where the extra chairs are that I’ve offered to our new neighbors for the night, but I’m not sure how to get to them.

After moving a couple of boxes out of the way—which, ironically, are our Christmas decorations—I know I can’t blame this whole mess on Rowan. When I’d moved into my own gallery, I had grand plans to create a studio in the garage—but reality doesn’t always line up with what actually happens. Looking at boxes marked T-Rex fossils, I hear the door squeak behind me, warning me of my man’s arrival.

My face snaps to his presence in the room. With slumped shoulders, he’s not meeting my gaze. Yeah, Rowan feels like shit because he’s not a social person. He has a love for dinosaurs as I do with modern art. As a child, his love turned into a passion that led to years of study and the PhD he now holds in the subject.

“What are you looking for?” Hearing his voice’s pitch, I know he’s reverting to the past when he was bullied for not being what some coined the normal kid. However, you show me normal, and I’ll show you pigs who fly.

“Ro, baby. Please don’t do that.” Seeing him hurt makes me want to cry. So often, I’ve had to build him back up. Rowan doesn’t understand social cues. He still hurts, especially when he messes up.

“She hates me, right?” His eyes are glossed over. Ro doesn’t have many friends outside of the ones we share together. Never mind the fact his genius level has him inadvertently speaking over people’s heads, but many in his field are envious because he can do more than any of his colleagues can.

“She didn’t seem upset, hon. She’s funny, and it’s what she was attempting to be with you.” He doesn’t pick up on humor unless I’m the one teasing him. “Anyway,” I continue, changing the subject, “I’m ordering her sister and her Thai for delivery. She was quite taken with the bottle of wine I’d given her, and I’m attempting to make my way to the chairs and air mattresses over there.” My fingers point at the metal chairs I’ve used in the past for art lessons.

He’s instantly behind me, helping displace boxes to clear a path to the wall on the other side of the garage where the chairs hang. As he approaches me, my arms circle his neck. He’s taller than me by at least three inches, and I step on my tippy toes, connecting my mouth to his. “I know she hates me.” He rests his head against mine.

“No, not at all. As a matter of fact, she seemed a little upset to know you were taken.” This piques his curiosity. “And she couldn’t keep her stare off me, but who can?” He takes this joke because he’s heard it so many times. Plus, it’s me. He tilts his frown into the beautiful smile I love.

Through his thick glasses, I’m lost in his blue eyes—so clear and so deep with love. “I love you. No matter what, I’m here always.” With my words, he leans into my embrace.

“I love you so much, Knox. You piece me back together whenever I want to fall apart.” These are his exact words every time he melts down about not fitting in with ordinary people.

“Remember, Ro, ordinary was so 1990.” This is my response to him. This, as always, causes him to chuckle, and the pain from his past, which washes up often, subsides in my joke.

Our maze continues until we finally make our way to the wall with the chairs. “See, I couldn’t do this without you, Ro.” From the tic of his jaw, I can tell he’s chewing something over in his mind. “What’s going on in your brilliant and wonderful brain, Ro?”

“You said she was disappointed to learn I was taken?” With his question, his smile brightens, and I know where his mind is going. He may be intelligent beyond comprehension, but he’s also as dirty and kinky as they come. This may be my influence on him, too. But he’s not been hard to corrupt.

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