Page 18 of His Wild Storm
Knox gets a look of pure contemplation on his face before he reaches into his back pocket and pulls a plastic banana out. “Did you think I wouldn’t add some fruit to the bowl? I love bananas because you can eat them, but I also love them in milkshakes, smoothies, ice cream, and covered in chocolate.”
Wilde’s eyes widen before he throws his head back and laughs. Between giggles, he gets out, “You pulled a banana out of your back pocket. I was not expecting it at all.”
Knox’s smile is wide as he watches my son laugh. When he looks over at me, he winks, and I can’t help but chuckle. It might be because of how ridiculous it is that he pulled a banana out of his pocket, but if anyone were to ask, I’d say it’s because of Wilde’s laughter.
And no one can get the truth out of me.
“I think it’s time for class to get started,” Wendy cuts in. The smile on her face is an invitation as she offers, “I can walk you over, Knox.”
Knox doesn’t get the chance to answer before Wilde shoots up from his seat, grabs all of his art stuff, and practically skips over to Knox. “Follow me, Knox. We can go to class together. I already took the bowl over there earlier. It just needs some fruit.”
“Lead the way,” Knox rumbles before dutifully following my four-year-old.
Just as he walks through the doorway, he looks back at me with something like longing in his eyes. It’s the same feeling that hits me right in the chest, but I ignore it.
I’m not in any position to be interested in someone. Right?
CHAPTER 7
KNOX
Wilde is adorable, and I’m so glad he was one of the first people I got to see today after stepping inside Safe Home. I’ve been thinking about him and how talented he is all week. And I haven’t been able to get the glimpse of his mom out of my head.
Now I know her name.
Haven.
Her name is fitting because even being around her for only a few seconds makes me feel a sense of peace I’ve never experienced before. I can see the wariness in her eyes when she looks at me, but it’s easily eclipsed by joy shining there whenever she looks at Wilde.
It’s obvious how much she loves her son. As it should be.
This morning, I got to see so much more of her than last week when she stuck her head into the space we’re using as the classroom. And, fuck me, she’s gorgeous.
Her hair is long enough to hang past her shoulders, but I’m still not sure if it’s dark brown or if it’s black. She has the cutest nose that sits atop her perfectly plump lips. I desperately want to kiss those lips.
I just know she would melt in my arms as her lips softenagainst mine in the most perfect way. The thought of kissing her makes me wonder what she tastes like. Would she be as sweet as she looks?
Her blue eyes are fucking mesmerizing. I could get lost in them for hours. They’re the kind of eyes you could look at over and over and still find something new in them. Maybe a speck of color you didn’t notice before. Maybe an expression that brings you to your knees.
Her eyes were one of the few things I got the full effect of last week and I’ve spent far too much time drawing them ever since. I’m not at all ashamed of it; I have no reason to be.
Two days ago, when I was waiting for my next client after finishing up a consultation, I found myself sketching at my station in Vibrant Ink. I was so caught up in what I was doing, I didn’t notice anyone looking over my shoulder.
That changed as Travis breathed out, “Whose eyes are those?”
I jumped a few feet out of my seat as he asked the question. Since I didn’t hear him approach, there was no way I was going to be able to hide my drawing.
I glared at him and gritted out through my teeth, “None of your business.”
Travis, who rarely takes anything seriously, chuckled. I could see the mischievousness in his eyes before he even said anything. “Come on,” he needled, “you have to tell me now. Whose eyes are these? I’ve never seen you draw them before.”
“Why should I tell you?” I huffed out the question, annoyed at being called out.
“Knox,” he whined loudly which caused more attention to turn my direction.
Suddenly, I had Bridger, Wyatt, Monroe, and Ellis paying attention to our conversation. I’m sure Dallas would have been eavesdropping as well, but she probably couldn’t hear Travis and his bullshit from the reception desk in the front of the shop.
“What’s going on?” Wyatt, the owner of Vibrant, asked curiously. He sat up straighter in his chair like it would make it easier for him to see what I was drawing. He didn’t even care about the client in his chair, but that was probably because his client looked just as nosey as he did.
