Page 30 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

He flinches and mutters his favorite question he always loves to ask me, “What the fuck?”

“Surprise!” I grin, plopping myself down beside him.

Rurik glares at me as he rubs the back of his head. “Leave me alone.”

“But I missed you.”

“Fuck off.”

“But I haven’t fucked you yet for me to fuck off.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Have you been reading my thoughts?”

Rurik shifts a few inches away from us and continues reading, his brows furrowing as he tries to jump back into the pages.

“What are you reading?”

“None of your business.”

“That sounds boring.”

Rurik growls and snaps his book shut. He roughly gets up and tries to walk away, but I grab his wrist.

“Wait!” I say, “I’m sorry, please don’t go. I promise I’ll shut up if you sit here with me.”

Rurik glares at my hand on his wrist but, to my surprise, nods. The way he does it makes it look like his neck is too stiff. He keeps his distance between us and sits down, opening his book again with a heavy sigh.

He doesn’t walk away this time. I can’t help but grin at that.

My angel is so into me. I just know it.

I sigh and look in front of us. Seconds turn to minutes, and I can’t help but keep glancing at him now and then.

He’s gorgeous. Beautiful. Handsome.

All of the above.

“Quit staring at me, crazy.”

And grumpy.

I grin. I often seem to do that when I’m around him, grinning. I look up and straighten to reach my arm up and pick off one of the pretty pink flowers from the tree. The rustling sounds of the leaves cause Rurik to glance at me, his facial expression annoyed. I’m starting to think that’s his default setting when it comes to me.

I offer him the pink flower. “For you.”

He stares at it, the corner of his lips curling into that distrustful snarl. “Why?”

I shrug. “It’s a gift for you. You can use it as a bookmark or something.”

He scowls. “No.” And goes back to reading his book.

Okay.

Rude.

I’m going to ignore that painful sting that pierced through my heart just now.

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