What I hadn’t anticipated when I purchased my first set of watercolors was how the unease would only be satisfied by trying to capture trembling in my heart within the water brushed across the page. Picasso said, “The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls.” There hadn’t been anything cleansing in my art. When I painted, I simply blew the dust onto a new surface. For me, it was a carefully crafted stream meant to tangle me up and hold me under.
My talk with the girls tonight and messages with Wes had me craving a bit of nostalgia. I needed to let my insides out into an art form that gave me freedom before my mind became a trap. As soon as I arrived home, I pulled out an old sketchbook and a set of charcoal pencils from the bottom drawer of my nightstand.
A soft smile tugged at my lips when I started shading in the simple heart I’d drawn. I even added a three-dimensional touch with a feminine, feathered arrow piercing through the center of it.
I pulled out a thinner leaded pencil and was just about to start on the letters when he burst through my door. I jumped, sending the pencil into the air, and my sketchbook falling from my lap.
“Holy crap, Wes!” I shouted, gripping my hands over my chest. “You scared me to death. How’d you get in here?” He wore the same beanie he had on at Tommy’s the other night with his usual jeans and tee, so hot.
“August gave me his key. Told me your folks were out for another two days.” He waggled his eyebrows at me carrying a white paper sack in one hand and a tray of cups in the other.
“Wait, is that In-N-Out?” I took the bag from his hands as he slid down to sit beside me on my bed.
“It is. Thought I’d woo my lady with a late night snack,” he turned, pulling out one of the cups, “and a milkshake.”
“I’m feeling very wooed right now,” I told him, digging into the bag and pulling out a cheeseburger.
“Whatcha got there?” he asked reaching for my sketchbook. With a full mouth, I batted his hand away. The jerked movement sent a glob of sauce falling onto my shirt.
“Crap,” I mumbled while reaching into the bag for napkins.
“You should probably consider nixing the white.” Wes laughed before shoving a handful of fries into his mouth. He pulled my sketchbook onto his lap and began flipping the pages. I tried to yank it from him, but he grabbed my hand and held it firmly in his. The more I tried to wriggle it free, the tighter his grasp got. In a fit of giggles, I finally gave up and accepted my immediate embarrassment.
“This is a really cute heart, C.” Wes grinned at me and let my hand go.
“I was messing around,” I said reaching for the book again, but he pulled it out of my reach and leaned across the room to grab the pencil I’d sent flying.
“What are you doing?” I asked trying to peer over his shoulder, but he turned and blocked my view.
“Mind your own business,” he grumbled, making me laugh. I left him to it and dove back into my burger.
A few minutes later, he tossed the book, along with the pencil, into my lap. Then he stuck his hand into the bag and took out his own cheeseburger.
“It’s just like your tattoo,” I said brushing my fingertips across the sketch of a marlin Wes had doodled onto the corner of the paper. He just nodded at me with a full mouth.
I tapped my pencil against the pad and scanned my room. What could I add to this? The marlin was obviously a part of Wes, so what was something that represented me? After pondering for too long, and becoming frustrated that I couldn’t think up what to draw, I doodled out the Chevy emblem in the bottom right corner.
When I handed the book back to Wes, he smiled proudly and quickly got to work on his next addition. “You ever gonna move out, C?” he asked while he sketched.
“Yeah.” I rested my head against the mattress behind me. “Soon, I think.”
“How come you never wanted to live in the dorms with your girls?” Wes asked, handing me the sketchbook back. I smiled when I saw he’d sketched the crystal ornament he’d given me for Christmas.
“I didn’t want to leave my parents.” I put the pencil to paper and started my next doodle.
“After the accident with Ella?” he asked stretching his arms above his head.
“No, well, yes and no. I didn’t stay for them. I stayed for me.” I finished the shading on the guitar and passed the book to Wes.
His head fell against the mattress when he smiled at me. “Perfect,” he whispered and leaned in to touch his lips softly and briefly to mine. Then he quickly turned around to shield me from his next drawing. “Why did you stay then?”
“It was safe here. So much was shifting and changing. As much as I wanted to go, I couldn’t do it. My parents knew about my colorblindness, so I’ve always felt like I could hide here. I wasn’t ready to step out.”
“Now?”
“Now, I feel, I don’t know. I feel like the road in front of me has been lit up. When I look ahead in my life, it isn’t shadowed like it used to be.”
Wes turned and handed me the sketchbook, with just enough of a smile for his dimples to begin to show. “That’s awesome, C.”
My heart expanded, and I smiled back. Wes seemed to always make me feel special. I opened the sketchbook that he’d handed to me and turned to the page we were working on. “My mermaid,” I whispered, amazed that he had captured the same beauty in it that he had painted on me that day.
I looked at Wes, who pursed his lips deepening the dimples. “C’mere.” His voice grated against my skin. He took my hands and pulled me into his lap. He leaned in and ran his nose down mine breathing me in. I held my breath absorbing his touch. “I missed you today,” he whispered his words against my lips.
“Me, too,” I whispered back. He ran his hands around my waist and pulled me into him sealing our lips with a kiss. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. This kiss was different from the rest. The way his tongue caressed mine, and the slow pull of our lips, conjured a heat that spread deep into my soul.
I shifted to straddle him and deepened our kiss, but he kept it slow and intentional. I lifted my hands and pulled off his beanie letting it drop to the floor so I could tangle my fingers in his hair. I needed to feel him grasped between each finger. For years, I’d sat in this room thinking of him, dreaming of him, and capturing him in my art. I was finding it hard to believe he was here, and he was mine.
Wes lifted my waist slightly and pushed me back on my bedroom floor, crawling over me. He pulled away from me only briefly and ran his hand down my cheek. “This is wild,” he whispered. His eyes traced all over my face. The awe in his voice had me feeling a little uneasy until he spoke again. “You were right here all along.”
I nodded and pulled his lips back to mine in an attempt to swallow the tears that had threatened to seep from my eyes. He shifted his weight and settled between my legs. The solid feel of him right where I’d begun to ache pushed a soft moan from my lips. He groaned back in response and pressed himself tentatively against me. I pressed back. I wrapped my hands around his back and clenched my fingers against his skin, silently demanding more.
“Wes.” My dad’s voice echoed down the hallway.
“Fuck.” Wes flew off me and scrambled to his feet.
“I hope you left those thoughts of yours you mentioned the other day at home.” My dad’s question rounded the corner with him when he approached my door. I straightened my hair and pulled down my shirt but remained seated on the floor.
“Yes sir, Mr. Hunter, sir.” Wes’ words ping-ponged against each other.
“Oh hell,” my dad said and rolled his eyes. “Steve, Wes.” Then he directed his attention to me but only briefly. His eyes darted around the room choosing random places of focus instead of me. “Capri, I think you may want to consider moving out soon.”
“Hell, yes!” Wes shouted and leaned forward with his hand in the air to my dad. My dad shook his head, and Wes brought it back to run his hand through his hair.
“Wes.” My dad looked at him again,
and something strange passed between them. A series of nods, blinks, and grunts even. Then my dad left.
“Sorry, they weren’t due back for another two days,” I said as Wes helped me up.
“We’re finding you a new place, Capri.” He leaned over placing a kiss on my cheek. “I need to be able to dry hump my girl in private,” he called over his shoulder but stopped at my door and turned to look at me. “’Night, baby,” he said and winked on his way out.
“My lady.” I dipped in a bow allowing Capri to walk through the door because I was a gentleman, and gentlemen fucking bowed. “What do ya think?” I asked following into the shop behind her.
I’d wanted to introduce her to Rocco since she told me she couldn’t see colors. I wasn’t gonna lie, that shit shocked me. Not that she was colorblind, but I could tell how much it bothered her, and how insecure it left her. That wasn’t gonna fly with me. No way should a girl like Capri feel bad about herself because she couldn’t see red. Red wasn’t even all that. Screw red. That was why I wanted her to meet Rocco. So she could see that she could still be proud of being an artist.
“It’s really clean,” she said surprised and I stood a little taller. That compliment on my place of employment shot straight to my heart. “And I like all the artwork on the walls.” She pointed to the sketches covering the walls.
“Nice touch, huh?” I asked unable to wipe the grin off my face. I’d drawn most of them, and of course, Capri recognized what a badass I was. This was something I’d like to see from her one day also, to be able to display her art with her pride overruling her fear.
“Nice breasts.” She nodded up to one of the sketches closest to the ceiling. Crap, yeah, I did that one, too. Abort artwork, abort.
“Come say hi to the guys.” I put my hand on her back ushering her away from the waiting area and through the saloon door that led to the floor. It took the guys a few seconds to realize that we were there, and then the buzzing died down.
“Marilyn, what on Earth is that girl still hanging around with you for?” Blue shouted, pushing his glasses up onto his head. He peeled off his gloves, wiped his hands, tapping his customer on the shoulder to let him know they would take a break. “When ya gonna realize you’re too pretty for this guy.” He smiled and winked at Capri.
“He’s quite pretty himself,” she chimed back, leading Blue into a smoky chuckle.
“You are a gorgeous bitch, Marilyn,” Trace yelled from the back where he’d finished wiping down his customer and wrapping her arm.
“Hi, Trace.” Capri waved her fingers over at the oaf.
“Hey, doll.” He winked back. All this bullshit winking.
“Rocco here yet?” I asked checking the time on the clock.
“Should be,” Blue mumbled, shoving a cigarette between his lips. “Smoke.” He nodded and shuffled toward the hallway that led to the back entrance of the shop.
“I get to meet Rocco now?” Capri pinched her eyebrows up at me.
“Sure do, I wanted to make sure you met him.” I smiled at her expression and fought the urge to take her into my arms.
“You tryin’ to set me up or something?” she asked with a smirk and folded her arms over her chest leaning toward me.
“Aw, hell no.” I reached out for her and pulled her toward me, wrapping my arms around her body.
“Oh that’s good then ‘cause I’m already seeing someone,” she said smiling playfully up at me with her chin resting against my chest.
“You are?” I said giving into her game. “He must be a dashing fella.”
“Dashing?” She giggled. “That’s one way to describe him, I guess.”
“Psh, more like a dickhead,” Trace said from his station. I flipped him off, not taking my eyes off Capri. Who took his eyes off the most beautiful woman in his world? Not this lucky son of a bitch.
“Well, how would you describe him?” I asked leaning my head into her neck. I sucked in a deep breath and sighed into her.
“Charming.”
“Hmm.” That sounded right. God, she smelled liked a strawberry.
“Chicken choker!” Trace yelled, and I ignored him. What idiot would remove his face from his woman’s fruity neck? This homie was leaving his face buried wherever his lady let him be.
“Kind.” I shook my head into her neck. The way I wanted to fuck her right now on my shiny counter was not so kind. For her or the counter.
“Keister beater!” Trace yelled again making Capri tense in my arms.
“Ignore him,” I whispered against her skin and laid a soft kiss at her collarbone. She softened immediately.
“He’s pretty hot,” she said, tilting her head and giving me the full length of her neck. I immediately brushed my nose from the base of it up to her ear. Strawberry. I opened my mouth and sucked the skin below her ear into my mouth, swiping my tongue across it slowly. I felt the vibration of her quiet moan through my lips.
“Que paso cabron!” Capri bounced out of my arms leaving me cold, empty, and saluting Rocco at my waist. I ran my hands through my hair and grunted out my frustration. “At ease, bro.” Rocco cackled as he passed through the saloon doors and made his way straight to Capri.
“Muneca. Why haven’t we met yet?” Rocco reached his hand out to Capri. She hesitantly placed hers in his and darted her eyes from his other arm and his face. He placed a kiss on her hand.
“This is Capri,” I said to Rocco. “We talked about her watching you do a small piece the other day.” In two strides, I was next to her again and wrapped my arm around her, pulling her into my side.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go get set up. My customer should be here any minute. Pull up a chair, muneca.” He nodded to his station and left for the back room to get some supplies.
“Wes,” Capri hissed lowly. “He doesn’t, he’s missing, he lost his—”
“He doesn’t have an arm,” I said laughing at how cute she was not to say the obvious offensively.
“What’s going on?” she asked turning to me so she could look up into my eyes. She was always doing that. Looking right at me and sometimes through me. I’d spent most of my life never being seen at all, and this girl saw me inside and out. She might not know about all she saw, but the way her eyes softened when they looked into mine, I knew she could tell it was there.
“Rocco was in the Marines. Lost his left arm, along with his hearing on the same side, when a roadside bomb hit his vehicle.” Capri gasped and brought both hands to her mouth. I reached behind her and rubbed her back. “When he was medically discharged, he moved back home and apprenticed at his cousin’s shop in La Mesa.”
“He tattoos with one arm?” she asked more in awe than disbelief.
“He does, well, with one arm and a claw. You’ll see it when he comes back out.”
“A claw?” Her eyes widened.
“Yeah,” I laughed. “You’d be surprised how much the ladies like the claw.”
“And you want me to watch him tattoo with his claw,” she stated.
“I do.” I brought my hand that was still on her back around to her hip and squeezed her gently. “I want you to see that even without his arm, he still set out to do what he’d always wanted to do. He’s had to make some adjustments and find his own unique style and way of tattooing, but he did it. Now he’s one of the best artists in San Diego.”
“Okay,” she said, nodding and looking around the shop.
“Okay?” I asked because quite honestly she could have been pissed off. She could have told me to mind my own business and marched her cute little self right out of this joint. She didn’t though because she was my girl, and my girl was awesome.
“Yeah.” She gave me that smile. That she only shared with me. Where her nose crinkled up a bit and her eyes went all wide and bright. “I mean, who am I to complain about being colorblind when he has a claw?”
“Bitches love the claw. You coming, muneca?” Rocco came around the corner to prep his station.
“Be right there,” she cal
led to him and then turned to me. “Thank you,” she said and stood on her toes to place a soft kiss on my lips. I wasn’t having that, though. I caught her in my arms and pressed her lips open with mine. I slid my tongue and kissed my girl how a lady deserved to be kissed because I was a fucking gentleman.
“Why don’t you just piss on her?” I heard Trace’s voice shout at me. I lifted one arm from Capri, wrapping her more tightly with the other, to flip him off and continued to kiss her. “He’s an animal,” Trace howled into the shop.
Capri giggled against my lips and pulled herself away. She smiled at me and turned around toward Rocco’s station, but I caught her hand in mine and pulled her back into me for a quick, but no less dicktastic, kiss. I couldn’t get enough of her.
“Stop maulin’ the girl in my shop,” Blue gruffed. I pulled away this time and gave her a peck on the nose before sending her off to Rocco with a tap on that ass. “Oh, hell,” he groaned shuffling past me. “You’re done for, Marilyn.”
I kept myself busy setting up my own station for my only client of the day. At first, I helicoptered around Capri and Rocco making sure he didn’t cross any lines. After both he and Capri told me to get lost, I’d left to pout in my chair on the other side of the room.
As I watched them over the last half hour, it was obvious that Rocco was all business and attentive to Capri, answering all of her questions. Rocco was usually a silent tattooer, and the fact that he was stepping out of his comfort zone to show my girl how to grab her talent by the balls reminded me of what a good guy he was.
My client today was scheduled for a one-hour session, so this had to be a tiny tat. It would leave me with plenty of time to get Capri out of here. Maybe take her to a nice dinner or for a walk down along the Cove. Shit, listen to myself? Planning dates instead of fucks.
I did want to, though. I did want to fuck her. Maybe I shouldn’t use the word fuck with Capri. It would be more. So much more, like her. She was like the best surprise you thought you never wanted. Like when a stripper jumped out of cake. You’d think you wouldn’t want that, it was too old school, but when it happened? It was amazing. It was a stripper, and it was cake. Maybe I shouldn’t think of strippers while I was thinking about Capri.
Truth in Watercolors (Truth Series Book 2) Page 14
