The way Emmett’s face lit up sent his heart into a frenzy.
“Maybe if you stop annoying me, I’ll take you riding sometime,” Emmett said, then shook his head with a loud sigh. “Why does everything I say come out wrong now?”
“That’s ‘cause your mind’s in the gutter.” He gestured toward himself. “Not that I can blame you when all of this is in front of you.”
Emmett rolled his eyes, a smile on his lips, and to his amusement, he noticed that Emmett didn’t correct him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Emmett
A GOOD teacher, he was not. His uncle was an actual teacher, and he knew Elijah would’ve cussed him out by now, despite the man’s endless patience. Wilder wasn’t even a difficult student. He was very locked in, and why that surprised him, he could only blame on his own biases.
Wilder was determined to learn everything he could and not just about signing, his implants, and deaf culture, but also just about him. He almost hated that he was starting to look forward to this part of the day more than anything else. Spending this time teaching Wilder ASL meant less time spent on painting. At least he wasn’t paid by the hour, or Kaz might start complaining. Though if the murals weren’t done by the time they planned on opening the gym, Kaz wouldn’t just be complaining; he’d be rightfully mad. And yet, here he was again?as shitty as he was at it?teaching Wilder more sign.
“Like this,” he said and showed Wilder how to place his fingers.
So far, he’d taught Wilder how to sign a few basic words as well as his name. He was starting to get the alphabet, though it seemed like it was easier for Wilder to do the signs than it was to understand when Emmett signed them back to him.
“No. Not…” he trailed off with a shake of his head and pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. He reached for Wilder’s hands, folding his fingers and showing him the movement.Forefingers and thumbs touching, then turning both hands so the sides of the hands and pinkies touched.
“And that’sfamily.”
Wilder mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Not sure I need that one.”
Something squeezed hard in his chest at that, but he tried to ignore it as well as Wilder’s words. He shouldn’t get involved. It wasn’t his place. They barely knew each other, even if he already considered Wilder a friend.
He ran his gaze over Wilder, stopping at his tattooed arm. It really was a gorgeous piece of art.
“My eyes are up here.”
A sigh escaped him as he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Crap. Caught. Again. He slowly raised his gaze, unsurprised to find Wilder’s eyes shining with amusement, dark brows raised at him.
“Can’t an artist just admire beautiful artwork?”
He regretted the words the second he spoke them, a groan pushing past his lips at how Wilder’s expression lit up.
“You thinkthat’sbeautiful?” Wilder waggled his brows. “You should see the rest of me.”
Wilder reached for the back of his shirt as if to pull it off.
“Don’t you dare,” he squeaked and hid behind his hands, Wilder’s laughter filling his ears.
Damn it! He didn’t want to like Wilder, but he was making it hard not to. He looked between his fingers and felt heat spread through his cheeks at the amused smile on Wilder’s face. He looked way too proud of himself, and for some strange reason, he didn’t hate it.
Wilder made a show of flexing his arm muscles, and he nearly combusted. Or, at least, it felt like it. Wilder’s wink didn’t help.
He shook his head and tried to turn his gaze back on the wall, but his eyes kept finding Wilder again. He had to remindhimself he was there to paint. Not to drool over Wilder’s endless muscles. Or stare at that wavy hair he definitely didn’t want to run his fingers through. Or imagine that mouth on?No. Wilder was his friend. Thinking about him in any other way would just get him in trouble.
He was already in too much trouble when it came to Wilder. He made him feel alive. He made him feel… whole. Safe. Wanted. It was a dangerous road to go down, and yet, he knew that was exactly where he was headed.
“I should get back to work,” he muttered, well aware that his reluctance to do so was pretty damned clear in his voice.
Wilder nodded, his smile smug and… fuck. Now he was looking at Wilder’s mouth. Those lips?
“Good luck not thinking about me,” Wilder said, that husky voice washing over him with an intensity that had him clamping his mouth shut before he could say something embarrassing.
Wilder turned and headed toward the doors. Emmett raised a middle finger at him just as he glanced over his shoulder.
