Page 37 of That One Night
“Don’t tell her,” Hendrix said.
“I’m afraid I have to keep strict customer confidentiality,” Jack said, looking from her to Hendrix, an amused tone to his voice. “I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you.”
“I’m gonna find out,” she warned Hendrix.
He lifted a brow, not looking afraid at all. “I have no doubt of that.”
Traffic was busier on their way back to the farm, mostly because it was almost rush hour. Hendrix played rock music again, that cap back on his head, and she felt that familiar flush on her body as she looked at him while he concentrated on the road.
“You want me to drop you off outside your house?” he asked her.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll walk home from yours. It’s not exactly far.”
“I can drop you off at the end of the lane if you want,” he told her. “If you’d rather your mom didn’t see you walking home from my house.”
She opened her mouth to say maybe that was a good idea, but then closed her lips. Why the hell should she be embarrassed if her mom saw her walking back from his place? They were friends. There was nothing wrong with that. She was allowed to talk to people, dammit.
“Nah, it’s all good. Once she sees the tattoo she’ll forget all about that, anyway.”
“You’re not going to keep it covered up when it’s healed?”
“Nope.” She shrugged. “It’s pretty. And I went through a lot of pain for this. There’s no point in going through all that if you’re going to hide it.”
“Itispretty,” he murmured.
Her skin tingled at the way he said it. She wondered what it would be like if he told hershewas pretty?
Truth was, she’d probably melt. “Thank you,” she murmured as the truck rumbled over the muddy tracks to his farm. The earth had dried hard, and the movement made her bounce up and down.
His gaze dropped to her chest, to the way her breasts moved with her body, then quickly moved it back to her face.
A loud bray from Frank greeted them when Hendrix opened her door and helped her climb down from the truck. She walked over to the goat, stroking his jaw.
“Is it of a goat?” she shouted to Hendrix.
“What?”
“Your tattoo?” she said. “Is it a goat?”
“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”
“Hendrix, you just watched me scream like a baby for an hour. The least you can do is let me see your tattoo.”
“You want to see it?” he stepped closer, and her hand stilled on Frank’s face. The goat looked peeved at her attention being interrupted.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Yes, you did. You said exactly that.” His eyes were dark as his hands curled around his belt buckle, slowly undoing it.
“Hendrix!”
He started to laugh. “Damn, you’re easy to scare. No, you’re not seeing it. A man likes to have a hint of mystery. And anyway, I’m saving it forOnly Farms, remember?”
“You’re an ass. And you don’t have a tattoo.”
“If that’s what you want to believe, go with it.” He reached down to tuck a curl of her hair behind her ear. His fingers felt hot against her neck, sending a shot of pleasure through her body.
“I hate you.” Her breath caught in her throat.
