Page 52 of Watercolor Skulls

“Maybe someday you’ll feel strong enough to go back home. It took me two years to visit my parents.”

She shakes her head furiously back and forth. “No. No, I’m never going back there. I’m sorry you’ll never meet them. I’ll never share you with them. They don’t deserve to know someone like you.”

The night we spent at the bar she told me a little about them. How they were never home. There seems to be more going on than absent parents. Something that scares her. I don’t like it.

“I’m perfectly okay with you keeping me all to yourself,” I tease, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her close to me. “Can I come over tonight?” I whisper in her ear.

She giggles. Thoughts of her family long gone. “Yes, but I have to work till nine.”

I growl, biting her neck. She leans her head to the side to give me more access. Her hands fist my shirt, and she makes the cutest little mewling sound. “I hate that you’re working at the bar,” I tell her honestly once I remove my teeth from her flawless skin.

“Dan, I need something to do for a while. I can’t sit here all day doing nothing.” She puts her hand on her hip, stomping her little foot.

“Okay, but if I don’t think it’s safe then that’s it, you’re done.”

Her eyes narrow. “Why wouldn’t it be safe?”

I laugh and back away from her. “It’s a bar, sweetheart, they’ll be all kinds of jokers in there.”

She chews on her nail, thinking about it. “I love that you are worried about me, but I want to do this. At least until I find my passion.”

“How bout I come at closing to make sure you get home safe?” I dip my head to catch her eyes.

She smiles and holds out her hand. “Deal.” I take her hand but instead of shaking on it I jerk her close and lean down to kiss her, putting as much as I have into it. God she tastes like heaven.

When I pull away her fingers dance across her lips. “Jesus, Dan,” she says breathlessly. “What were we talking about?”

I swat her on the ass. “See you tonight.”

She leans against the door frame, waving as I pull out of the driveway.

Raffe and Jesse both look up when I enter the shop.

Pointing to Raffe, I drop my leather jacket on the hook by the door. “Soon you’re going to run out of room like Dirk.”

He shrugs. “I needed some relief.”

Jesse gives me a look as I lean over to see what they are doing.

“What’s going on?” I ask him.

“I don’t know, man.” He lays his head back on the chair, watching Jesse trail her needle over the empty space above his knee. “I’ve been thinking about the past a lot lately.”

I sit down, concern creeping up my spine. Raffe has an ugly past. He’s one of the reasons we do our run a couple of times a year. He was a victim of trafficking.

“Anything I can help with?”

“Naw, I’m sure I’ll pull myself out of the funk. Being here is already helping.” He closes his eyes, so I leave him to his thoughts and busy myself drawing up a design for a customer I have coming in later today.

Jesse smacks her gum between her teeth. “How was your date?”

Raffe’s eyes open, suddenly interested in our conversation again.

“Good.”

“Where did you take her?” she asks while focusing on Raffe’s leg.

“Home.”

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