He taps a little lightning bolt. “This one.”
His answers are short, but he doesn’t seem uncomfortable. After he answers each question, he brings his eyes back to mine as if to invite the next. For the first time since he moved into my house more than a week ago, the man seems like he might actually want to talk to me.
So I keep going.
“How many do you have?” I ask.
“A lot,” he replies.
“Where?”
He pauses, cocking his head. “Not in places you can see.”
The implications of that particular statement announce themselves low in my belly, curling and warm. And as I’m contemplating what exactly I’m feeling, he doubles down by reaching for his sleeve and rolling it up.
The first thing I see is a rose. Then a small snake. Small black line drawings wind up his arm. There are probably a dozen of them, each one distinct, yet placed such that they make up a full piece.
It’s at that moment that I realize he’s always wearing long sleeves. I’ve never seen any of these because he never shows them.
“I’m sorry, is that…is that a hot dog?” I ask, catching the bottom of a design that peeks out from his sleeve.
He grins. “Yeah. I always get one when I go see the Mets play.”
His sleeve stops mid-biceps, but it’s clear that’s not where the designs end.
“Are there more?” I ask.
He nods.
The way he looks at me turns my insides molten. Suddenly all those carved muscles I’ve envisioned beneath his perfectly tailored clothes are covered in ink. I didn’t think I had a thing for guys with tattoos, but I know now that I was very wrong.
Or maybe I just have a thing for broody, quiet, buttoned-up Dan McBride covered in secret tattoos.
“Why do you always keep them covered up?” I ask. His jaw clenches. “Sorry if this feels like an inquisition. I can stop.”
“I don’t mind,” he says, the words coming out quickly.
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” he says, and this time there’s the barest hint of a smileon his lips. “When I started getting tattooed in college, I stuck to places I could hide easily for internships and work. I wanted to make sure I still read as clean-cut in interviews and networking situations. People tend not to want to entrust huge chunks of their wealth to someone with knuckle tats.”
I nod. “And now?” I realize too late that we’ve tiptoed back to the question of his troubles, and I prepare for deflection. I even consider taking it back. Anything to keep him from shutting down again.
Instead he gazes back at the intricate design in his notebook, cocking his head as his eyes trace the lines. “I don’t know. I guess I’m waiting to see if I need to be respectable anymore,” he says, then blows out a breath like it’s the first time he’s actually said that out loud. And maybe it is. I still have no idea what’s going on with him, but this is the closest he’s ever come to telling me. “Listen, I wanted to apologize for the other day. I totally messed that up. I’m not really very good at talking, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
I nod, because I absolutely have noticed. “It seems like you’re doing just fine now,” I say.
“We’ll see how long I can keep this up,” he says with a rueful laugh. Then he takes a deep breath and blows it out. “What I meant to say that night was thatIcould use a friend. I’m pretty short on them these days.”
My heart aches at the sight of this man sitting in my kitchen, asking me to be his friend.
“I’d love to be your friend, Dan,” I tell him gently. “And I should probably apologize too. I was kind of high on this new roller derby thing that night. I was a little feistier than usual.”
He lets out a quiet laugh. “How’s that going?”
Even though I feel nervous and fizzy, I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. Because just the thought of derby and what I accomplished today—hell, the fact that I showed up at all is a wild accomplishment—is like an ember glowing inside of me, threatening to burst into flame.
“It’s awesome,” I say, dropping into the chair across from him. I pause and glance at him to see if I should keep going. I don’t want to overwhelm Dan with my enthusiasm. I’m a yapper, and he’s decidedly not, but when he leans back in his chair, his arm slung over the empty chair beside him, the corner of his lips almost twitching into a grin, I decide to talk.
