He leans up. “You’re lying.”
I smile. “I’m serious. I just completely avoided it out of solidarity to her. I was afraid I’d like it too much and cause her to have a reaction.”
“We’re getting you some peanut butter cups right now. I bet we could flag a kid down on the street and steal a few from his bucket.”
I laugh. “No! What if I’m allergic to them?”
He shakes his head. “You’re not.”
“I have a feeling I won’t like it.”
“You’ll love it. Everyone loves peanut butter. Even dogs.”
I laugh. “I guess we’ll never know since I’m not going to taste it.”
“That’s wild. Twenty-eight years and no peanut butter.”
I smile. “What about you?”
He thinks for a moment. “These tattoos I got on my arm were not planned.”
“Really?”
He shows them to me, intricate designs and pattern work that looks like it cost a fortune stretch across his left bicep. They look good on him. It’s something I never thought he’d have but I like that he’s hiding that beneath his expensive suits.
“I got them out of spite for my dad one day which I know sounds immature, but I’ve always wanted a tattoo and my dad hated them. Anyway, I didn’t feel the needles the whole time it was happening.”
“You’re lying.”
He chuckles. “No. The guy who did them is a client of mine, a huge celebrity tattoo artist with a big following online who got sued a few years back. I helped him win his case, and he told me if I ever needed anything, to swing by his shop. So, one day I showed up after work, completely sober and he did the whole sleeve working through the night. No numbing cream and I didn’t feel a thing.”
“How’s that possible?”
He shrugs. “Not sure. I figured I had some sort of condition that makes me numb to pain.”
I lay my head back down on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against my cheek. “I don’t think you’re numb to pain. I think you just mask it well.”
He doesn’t say anything, just breathes deeply in and out. “You’re right. There’s one thing I know would hurt me.”
He doesn’t elaborate but we both know. It’sthis.Because it could hurt me too.
“Just think about what I said,” he murmurs softly. “I don’t know how much I can offer either. I’m a workaholic. My schedule’s a mess. But the little time that Idohave, I want to spend it with you. To give this thing a real shot before you write it off for good.”
I don’t respond. I just lie there, listening to his heartbeat, wondering if I’m capable of giving him what he’s asking for or if we’ll just end up hurt. I’m too guarded. Too tired. Too scared.Too broken.
Because the truth is, letting him in might hurt worse than keeping him at arm’s length ever could.
Chapter 23 – Cain
Rebel XOXO is one of my newer and much younger clients. He’s twenty-five years old, insanely talented at freestyling guitar riffs, and covered in tattoos from neck to ankle. His music is this wild fusion of rock and rap, a sound as bold and unapologetic as the guy himself.?
On paper, he’s the last person I’d expect to have a thing for big, wild hazel eyes, deep brown hair, a tattoo-free canvas, and a hard-working, smart-mouthed, take-no-shit woman like Rhiannon Carpenter.
But damn, was I wrong about that. Just like I’ve been wrong about everything lately.
So,fuckingwrong.
“Do you think I can get his autograph?” my younger sister Rosie asks as she rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet. She’s on the set of the shoot with me today after hours of begging me tobring her despite Rebel not being her client. Apparently, Rebel’s influence extends to my little sister, too.
