Page 21 of Indigo

He holds up his arm, inspecting the tattoo as if he forgot it was there. “Jagger has the same one. Got it done a couple of years back. Asked me to come along and I liked the design, so I got one too.”

“And the rest of them?”

With a shrug, he runs his hand along the tattoos. “I liked them. Wanted my arm completely covered, and the artist did a sick job designing the rest of these guys for me. Figured why not.”

I nod. That makes sense, I guess. Pax always had a fascination with tattoos, hence the poorly executed ones on his other arm. Those he did himself before he was even old enough to walk into a tattoo parlour.

He chuckles before leaning forward to place a kiss on my forehead as if no time has passed between us and it’s still a normal thing for him to do so. “Get your little ass dressed, coffee’s on the counter, and we’ve got some shit to sort out before I have to take off for a few hours.”

The sight of his bare back as he walks out of the room leaves me motionless for a moment.

When I finally pull myself together, I grab my deep purple, silky robe from the hook on the back of my bedroom door and follow the heavenly smell of coffee to the kitchen.

I sit down on a bar stool, and he waits for me to take exactly two sips from my mug before he begins. “Right, so, I’ve got a meeting I can’t cancel. Some rich prick that’s just moved to Scarlett Bay wants me to look over a car he had shipped over from Melbourne. Wants a quote for a full restoration. Shouldn’t take too long, it’s the driving back and forth that’ll eat up the day. I’ll be back here around five to help you sort through your stuff. You’ll be okay here by yourself for a bit, yeah?”

I try to keep my eyes on his face, but they keep drifting down to his chest. Clearing my throat and giving my head a little shake, I try to re-focus. “I can do this on my own. I don’t know what you want from this.” I motion my hand between us, shooting him a look, telling him to be quiet as he tries to interject. His pout makes me want to laugh out loud, but I hold it together and continue. “But that isn't what this is about. I can’t come home just for you. Give me a little time. I need to call my agent here, try to call my dad again, pack everything.”

I try not to laugh as the muscles in his jaw tick as he processes my words. Finally, when I think he’s going to give in, he shakes his head and I groan in response.

“No,” he says. “Not happening. I’ll be back later on.”

“Paxton,” I snap. “You can’t just rock up here after four years and start telling me what to do. We are not together.”

He scoffs, and I roll my eyes at his pitiful retort to my statement before standing and walking over to the coffeepot with my now empty mug.

I refill it with my back to him and he lets out an agitated sigh before stomping out of the kitchen.

Agitated by his lack of ability to bloody listen, I, too, sigh.

After a few minutes, he walks back into the room, fully dressed, much to my disappointment, with a stern look on his face. He closes the distance between us in just a few large strides, and I crane my neck back as he stands in front of me, his enormous frame dwarfing my own.

He reaches forward, takes one of my curls between his fingers and gives it a little tug. “Tell yourself what you like, Blue, but when I get your little ass home, it’s fucking on,” he says, leaning down to kiss my forehead, his lips lingering long enough to line my arms with goosebumps. “I know we need to talk, but this, right here? This is our chance. I can be who you need me to be now. Let me.” It isn’t a question, and with another quick touch of his lips to my skin, he turns around and walks away.

I stand there, speechless once again, which is probably for the best, as he grabs his keys from the kitchen counter.

“I’ll be back,” he calls out from the front door, closing it behind him a moment later, leaving me alone in the apartment that doesn’t even feel like mine anymore. I’m not so sure that it ever did.

The sound of my phone buzzing against my bedside table has me running down the hallway to grab it. When I see Paisley’s name on the screen, I let out a relieved sigh and pick up immediately.

“Girl, have I got some shit to tell you,” I say, throwing myself down on my unmade bed.

-7-

PAXTON

“BAD MORNING?”JAGGER, my younger brother, asks, humour lining his tone from the door of my office, oil and grease covering the entire front of his light green t-shirt.

I look down at my watch, frustrated by the fact that what should have been a simple quote took well over two hours to do. It was unprofessional as fuck for me to be as antsy as I was to get it over with. I’ve worked damn hard to build up my reputation here and restorations are one of my favourite things to do, but my mind kept wandering to Indie.

What was she doing? How was she feeling? I shouldn’t have left her to do all the packing alone.

“Thought you’d be in a better mood considering the amount of money Drew’s going to be dropping in your pocket for that restoration, brother,” Jagger says, leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“Yeah,” I reply absentmindedly, turning my focus back to the computer.

Almost done. I need to get this quote typed up so I can send it off and get the fuck out of here.

“Pax,” he says, now moving toward me. “What’s up?” Sitting on one of the two dark brown leather chairs opposite me, my wooden desk separating us, he leans forward and waits until I look him in the eye to continue. “If you’ve got somewhere to be, I could have dealt with this.”

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