Page 58 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

“Did you see the sketch out front?” he asks.

My cheeks heat, but I don’t answer him.

“I thought so. Would you like to know how often I catch Milo staring at it?”

Licking my lips, I peek over at him but stay quiet.

“Exactly. I was hoping I’d get to meet you one day, the woman who was able to sneak past Milo’s defenses and make him feel something. Unfortunately, you did a number on him in the process. But I’m hoping we can rectify the issue.”

“We?”

“You want the job, don’t you?”

“Well––”

“And you want Milo to be happy, don’t you?”

“Of course, but––”

“There’s an art show next month. I know the curator. Get him to submit a piece.”

“A piece? What kind of piece?”

“Whatever medium he feels like using.”

“M-medium?”

“Clay, watercolor, oil. Depends on his mood.”

“How would I do that? I’m not even sure if he does”––I wave my hands around––“artsy things outside of work.”

His mouth curves up in amusement. “Maybe you don’t know him as well as I thought you did. Convince him to take a risk. To put himself out there. Convince him to throw himself into something other than this shop for once in his life. If you can, I’ll sell him the place.”

“You want him tonotfocus on Etch 'N Ink before you decide tosellhim Etch 'N Ink?” I clarify. I can’t be the only one who thinks he’s crazy.

“I want him to recognize there’s more to life than Etch 'N Ink before he decides to throw every ounce of energy into something incapable of ever loving him back and will never give him the recognition he deserves for his gift.”

“His gift?” I ask.

“The man has talent out the ass, and he’s been running from it. But if I can’t convince him to give himself a real shot, I want you to. Balance, sweetheart. I want to help him understand it.”

“And you want to help him understand it by making him submit a piece for an art show he has no interest in?”

“Who says he doesn’t have interest?” he challenges, resting his elbows on the table separating us. “There was a flyer on his desk containing the info for submitting a piece. He found it. Not me.”

“So, who’s to say he isn’t already planning on submitting?”

“Because when I asked him about it, he said he was going to pick up a few extra clients instead.”

“You could make him submit a piece, you know. He values your opinion. Hell, he practically worships the ground you walk on.”

“Only because he wants to stay in my good graces,” Jos counters.

I shake my head. “For someone who says he knows Milo so well, you’ve definitely read him wrong on this one. You’re like a father to him.”

“If I were a father to him, he would’ve told me about his run-in with the law,” he mentions, rubbing his thumb and forefinger along both sides of his chin.

My breath hitches. “Y-you know?”

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