She stared up at me. “He’s not an asshole.”
I leaned into my hand on the bed. “Did he make assumptions because of Cal?”
She didn’t say anything.
“Did he touch you and not stop when you told him to?”
“Fine. He is an asshole,” she said, in a slightly exasperated tone.
I loved that about her - how she could forgive. I also hated it because he didn’t deserve her forgiveness.
“What was your nightmare about? Do you remember?”
Her eyes skated toward the wall. “The accident. It was like the other car hit us on purpose, but that’s crazy.”
That got my attention. “Why do you think that? I thought the other driver was drowsy?”
She nodded. “Yeah. That’s why it’s just a crazy nightmare.”
I tucked her comforter around her shoulder. “You want me to go? It’ll be another hour before Cal has food ready.”
Her lips twisted to the side for a beat. “I don’t want to send mixed signals, but it’d be nice if you laid down next to me.”
I stalked to the other side of the bed and tugged my shirt over my head.
Alexandra took in a sharp breath. “Do you need a different shirt or something?”
I watched her eyes dance over my chest. “I don’t sleep with a shirt on, bad enough I’ll be wearing jeans.”
“Right,” she muttered, and rolled to her side away from me.
I climbed into bed and kept my distance. It killed, but I wouldn’t take advantage.
“I didn’t know you had so many tattoos,” she said after a moment.
“Yeah,” I whispered.
“They’re in color,” she remarked.
“Yep.”
“Who did them?”
“Blake.”
“Really?” she asked and shifted to her other side.
We went to high school with Blake. He’d been a tattoo artist for a long time, and with his talent, it boggled my mind why he didn’t leave Jacksonville and make a killing out in a bigger city like Los Angeles.
“You sound surprised,” I murmured.
She grinned. “Well, I just figured some of that ink happened in Augusta with the Devil Lancers.”
If she only knew why I had so many tats with such vivid colors.
“Nope. Are you planning to chat or get some rest?” I asked.
She inched closer. “One more question.”
