Page 82 of His Surrender
Goose bumps spread from my nape and down my back at his proximity. His voice was low and sexy. Was he imagining us tangled up together in the sheets just like I was?
“The purple is a nice touch,” I commented. Purple pillows were the only color on the white comforter, and the wall behind the bed was painted a shade of lavender.
“Purple means royalty.”
“Are you calling yourself a king?”
He laughed and moved away from me to open the curtains wider on the window.
“You aren’t denying it,” I pointed out. “I’ll take that as acceptance.”
“You can take it however you wish,” he said. When I turned around, my knees wobbled a little. Jay had pulled his shirt over his head, causing the sexy ridges of his stomach to be more pronounced. He took the shirt off and looked over at me. “What’s wrong?”
“Why are you stripping? You told me you were going to behave yourself, Mr. Foley.”
He gasped in mock surprise. “Iambehaving myself. I just wanted to change my shirt because that one had a coffee stain on it. Is that a crime?”
He could play at innocent all he wanted, but the smirk was all too telling of his true intentions.
“Who’s watching Sput while you’re gone?” I asked, going over to sit on the couch in front of the windows. Foster had said he and his dad were going camping, so I knew it wasn’t them.
“My parents.” Jay pulled on another shirt and came to sit beside me. “Mom’s going to spoil him even more than he already is. I’m gonna go home to a fat cat.”
A fatter cat, I nearly corrected but held my tongue.
“What made you change your mind?” I stared at my hands as I asked the question. “About us.” He’d somewhat given an explanation, but I needed more because I was still lost.
“It involved a fuck-ton of whiskey and a lot of feeling sorry for myself.” Jay sat forward on the couch. His eyes had a faraway look to them. “You asked me once if I’d had my heart broken, and you were right. I have. It’s no excuse for how I’ve treated you, though. I’m trying to do better. Tobebetter.” Those emerald eyes moved to me. “I don’t want my past to define me anymore. I want to make my own path, not keep goin’ down the one I’m on.”
We were so much alike in that regard, both of us learning how to move on from past hurts.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I whispered.
“Took me long enough to get here.” I got the feeling he wasn’t talking abouthereas in New Orleans. “Being stubborn is in my blood.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
He chuckled. “Okay, smart-ass.”
“Before you called me, I checked out Julia Street.” I turned on the cushion, bringing one leg up to rest on it as I faced him. “It’s kind of known for its art. Made me think of you.”
“Yeah?”
I nodded. “We should go to the Contemporary Arts Center while we’re here.” I had little interest in art, but the way his eyes lit up at the suggestion told me I’d made the right call. I’d do anything to see that look again and again.
After checking the business hours of the arts center, we left the hotel and took my car to the edge of Camp and St. Joseph Street to park. The tickets were reasonably priced—twenty bucks for two people—so I paid for them and walked farther inside. The building was an old warehouse with two floors of rotating exhibits, as well as a café in the lobby that sold coffee and tea.
Jay bought us each a coffee before we toured the exhibits. The huge, open space of the warehouse was nice, and we were able to take our time looking at everything.
“I like these,” he said, stopping in front of a set of metal works.
“William Monaghan is the artist,” I said, reading the plaque. One sculpture looked like metal that had been melted and twisted together. “It says here that he uses industrial forms to distort perceptions of depth and challenge our views on so-called unwanted remnants of consumerism.”
“That’s deep.” Jay sipped his coffee, nodding.
I bumped his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s check out the photography exhibit.”
Almost two hours later, we had finished looking at everything and were back in the main part of the lobby checking out the installation they’d built there before going outside. The streets were crowded, more so than they’d been when we’d gone into the arts center.
