Maybe I went a little overboard with the designs on my purse. I was fully in the zone for at least half an hour. The material of the bag is a soft beige leather, and now it’s covered in little black robber masks and game controllers.
I swirl my paintbrush in the cloudy cup of water and tilt my head at the purse, squinting to see if you can tell that the controllers are controllers and not fat lumps of coal.
“What’s with the black masks and smudges?” Maddox asks while leaning over my shoulder, the vodka from the Jell-O shots we brought in with us strong on his breath.
I whip my head to glare at him and hover the wet tip of the brush an inch from his deep green button-up. “They’re not smudges, asshole.”
“Look like smudges to me,” Noah mutters.
“Your purse is literally smeared with red. Is it supposed to be blood? Are you a full-blown psychopath now or something?” I retort.
He bares his teeth and chomps the air. “Make sure to keep your doors locked at night. You never know what could crawl inside when you’re sleeping.”
“I like the red,” Cooper says, inspecting Noah’s purse.
I roll my eyes at him and take another shot. “Your opinion doesn’t count because you’re still trying to earn forgiveness.”
Noah drops his brush into his cup of water and leans back inhis chair, the hint of a smirk appearing. “My forgiveness can’t be bought. It would be pointless for Cooper to try.”
“Exactly,” his brother-in-law states while using a knuckle to push his glasses up his nose.
Maddox goes back to his seat and starts blowing on his purse. “Mine can be bought. Just FYI.”
“What could you possibly need, Money Bags?” Oliver grunts, lips stained blue from the shots he’s taken.
“I love when you call me that. It makes me feel superior.”
“He’s just jealous that you don’t have to run through burning buildings every day for a living,” I say, wiping my hands on the piece of paper towel we were each given.
My fingers are overly sensitive, but then again, I think that’s just all of me. The vodka has gone right to my head the way it has the rest of the guys, minus Noah. He’s as sober as a judge.
Maddox shrugs. “Should have chosen something less life-threatening, then. Like a bus driver or teacher.”
“Teacher was already taken,” Oliver mutters.
I couldn’t imagine my brother as a teacher, regardless. He’d wind up quitting midday at the first hint of a teenage spat in his classroom.
Maddox replies with a quick tease, and I tune them out, attention drifting to my phone. There are no new texts from Blakely. It’s not shocking. It seems to take me reaching out first for us to talk, and I don’t mind putting the effort in. We’re closer than we were a couple of weeks ago, but there’s still a lot to learn about one another. I don’t see that stopping anytime soon.
Me: Do you like purses?
I send the text and leave my phone on the table while drying my paintbrush. Our craft instructor is lingering near the front of the room, so I lift my hand like a student to grab her attention.
She looks to me with suspicion in her gaze. “You don’t have to lift your hand to ask a question.”
I grin wide. “I figured it was more polite than screaming across the room.”
“Then I suppose a thank you is only fitting.”
“Nah, I don’t need one of those. I do, however, need to know how long these purses will take to dry. We have dinner plans in half an hour.”
“Usually, they dry quite quickly with the paint we use. I do suggest leaving them here overnight and having them shipped out in the morning, or if you wanted to stop back in tomorrow, we could have them ready for you.”
“Are they okay to take tonight if we can’t wait? I’ve got plans of surprising someone with it after dinner.”
I can feel my brother’s attention shift from his conversation with the other guys to me.
The instructor rolls her thin lips for a moment. “Yes. Just beware of the risk of smudging or chipping. You’re planning on carrying these around with you all night?”