“She didn’t ask me to draw anything specific. She just asked if she could watch me work for a few seconds.” He falls quiet for a minute. When I look over, I can see a smile playing on his lips.
“Huh. That’s pretty cool.” I bring a hand to my chin and rub my beard as a thought comes to me. “Maybe you could make that a thing on social media. You know, film a time-lapse video of you drawing.”
“Ooh —that’s a good idea!” He pulls out his phone. “I’m gonna set a reminder to message Gina and ask if she has any tips. Olivia calls her a marketing genius.” He laughs a little. “I’ll be curious to find out if she’s already made plans to hang out with Sarah.”
“Sarah?” This doesn’t compute. “My sister?”
“Yeah! Sarah and Gina got on like a house on fire — didn’t you notice? They talked pretty much the entire rest of the time we were there, exchanged numbers and everything.”
“Nope. I was just looking at you,” I admit.
“They were talking about getting coffee some Saturday morning when Rosa has gymnastics.”
“Huh. That’s… unexpected.”
“I’m glad she kind of came out of her shell tonight,” Bunny says, sounding contemplative. “I know she hates most of what she calls the ‘mommy mafia’ at Rosa’s school, so I was happy she and Gina hit it off.”
I snort. That does sound like something my sister would come up with. Guess she and Bunny talk more often than I realized.
“Didn’t see that coming,” I admit. “Sarah’s not really a people person.” At the risk of poking a sore subject, I add, “Kind of runs in the family.”
Bunny makes a sound that’s almost a laugh. “I’ve noticed.”
“Sorry I bit your head off before.”
“It’s alright.” After a pause, he adds, “I appreciate the apology.”
I pick his hand up and land a kiss on his knuckles. After that, I go to release his hand, but Bunny keeps his grip tight. We don’t say much else for the rest of the ride home, but it’s a comfortable silence, at least.
7
ADAIR
My good mood about the book signing lasts all week. Even slogging through chores doesn’t burst my happy little bubble. Humming to myself, I head towards the stairs with an armload of clean laundry.
I pause in front of my favorite picture from our wedding. Jack rolled his eyes when I said I wanted to get this one enlarged and framed, but I’ve caughthimjust standing in front of it, too, wearing a smile so sappy I’m sure he’d die of embarrassment if he could see himself. Maybe I’ll try to sneak a picture of him next time. The thought makes me grin.
I remember how Lucille, the photographer, kept trying to get Jack to smile. He, of course, was having none of it, even if it was our wedding. In all fairness, Idothink he looks insanely hot in the pictures where he’s just staring down the camera with a brooding, vaguely menacing expression.
But he was being stubborn and wouldn’t smile for any of them, and I could tell Lucille was getting frustrated. When a sudden idea flashed through my head, I dragged Jack over to a big tree.
He looked puzzled until I spun around and pressed myself against it. Even through the fabric of my dress shirt, the bark felt rough against my back. I grabbed his hands to put them onto my shoulders and murmured under my breath, “Think about how happy you’re going to be tonight when you’re turning your husband’s ass red and making him cry.”
That did the trick. Lucille perfectly captured Jack looking down at me with a rare, playful grin lighting up his features.
I’m still standing there when he walks in. “You and that picture,” he says, his voice gruff. I wait for him to say something else, but he doesn’t bust my chops about being sentimental. Instead, he sort of sighs and comes up behind me. I lean into the solid wall of his torso and hum with contentment when he puts his arms around me.
His beard tickles the side of my face, and I feel his breath against my ear. “Why do you like that one so much, huh? You give that damn picture googly eyes every time you walk past it.”
I most definitely donot, but I’m feeling too mellow to argue that point right now. “You look sexy,” I say.
He snorts. “Yeah, sure.” He nips at my earlobe. “You look good, though. Like usual.” My belly flutters at his words.
With a sigh, Jack releases me and heads towards the back of the house. “I left a fucking disaster out in my workshop when I fixed that slat on the picnic bench yesterday. Gonna go clean everything up.”
Knowing Jack, that probably means there’s a screwdriver out of place. I fight to hide my smirk. “I’ll tackle the mess I made of the grill.”
Jack rolls his eyes. “Please do. The chicken was definitely better like that, but I still think that burnt-on shit will be a nightmare to clean off the grates. I don’t want that crud there the next time I’m cooking.”
