Did he...?
Did he just say…?
For all I knew gravity could have ceased to exist and my body could've been floating around the atmosphere.
His nose and high cheekbones flushed the cutest shade of pink I'd ever seen. His eyes darted from me to the wall behind me in quick succession before he sighed and raised a hand to tug at his hair. "Kat." He took a step forward until he was so close I could fully appreciate how much bigger he was than me— a head taller, his shoulders and chest dwarfed my not so slender frame.
I could feel the mood change easily from our light bantering to something heavy on my skin. I was trembling before his hands touched my face, his palms cupped my jaw, long fingers brushed my hairline. I closed my eyes instinctively, soaking up the sharp jolts of static that seemed to radiate from his hands. "Mag," I said breathlessly.
"I missed you so much," he whispered sweetly against my temple.
His lips brushed so lightly across my forehead, I shivered through each vertebrae in my spine. How was it like this with him? How? As nice as Ryan's lips were on mine the night before, I'd take five minutes of this instead of a million of Ryan's kisses. "I missed you too," I said, eyeing his thick Adam's apple.
He tilted my face up and leaned down toward me at the same time his mouth exhaled warm, peppermint scented breath over my lips. Tristan stayed there for what seemed like a lifetime, just inhaling and exhaling inches from my face. He slid his hands from my cheeks down the column of my neck until they rested on my shoulders. "We should go before Yoda pees in my car," he murmured hoarsely.
A couple of moments passed before I stepped away to grab my purse and shoes in silence. He stood by the walkway to the door with his muscular arms crossed over his broad chest as his jaw clenched again. With my purse under my arm, I slapped his stomach with the back of my hand on the way out. "Let's go."
Tristan locked the door behind me using his key and trailed a few feet behind as we jogged down the stairs and headed to his Audi. Yoda's big, square head was staring at us from the front passenger seat with his long tongue dangling out of his mouth. "Yoda!" Tristan hollered at him, swiping at the air like he meant to gesture for the big angel to get back into the back seat. The massive and stubborn puppy stayed where he was until I opened the door and kissed the side of his muzzle twice.
"My boy," I said against his musty coat, giving him a hug that looked more like a headlock.
"Get in the back, Yoda," Tristan instructed him, eyeing the backseat for pee stains. He reversed out of the parking lot as we headed to his house. With only the soft rock radio station playing in the background, we sat together quietly until he cleared his throat. "I just have one more convention I have to go to in three weeks and after that..."
My skin itched in anticipation. "After that what?"
He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. "I'm retiring Robby."
I choked on my spit at his declaration.
Retiring Robby?
Tristan was glancing at me out of the corner of his eye while tapping his fingers almost violently against the steering wheel.Wait...
I narrowed my eyes in the direction of the one hand clearly in my eyesight. The skin on his knuckles was a flaming red, chafed and split against the smooth pale tone of the rest of his skin. I leaned over the console and hovered my fingertips over the raw flesh. "What the hell happened to your hand?" I asked in a shrill voice.
The green eye in my vision went wide at my question. "Well... you see..." he stuttered.
"Did you get into a fight with a brick wall and lose?" I used the tip of my index finger to brush across the healthy skin of his digits. When he didn't say anything I sucked in a breath. "What happened?"
"I didn't hit anyone," he answered vaguely, prying his right hand off the steering wheel to rest palm up on my thigh.
A million thoughts rolled through my head as to what could have happened to him but I didn't want to pry. I knew he would eventually tell me, but whatever it was had to be something embarrassing since he refused to tell me. This was the man who told me with a straight face about the time he sharted in his pants. I shoved the thoughts aside and flipped his hand over to see the marred skin. "Seriously, what happened?"
He coughed and scratched at his face with his short fingernails, apprehension evident on his face. "I punched my wall. Just a regular wall not a brick one, smartass."
I raised an eyebrow, more to myself than to him. "Why?"
"I was pissed off," he said simply.
I wanted to ask him what he was pissed off about but I didn't. Instead, I brought his hand up closer to my face to inspect the slender, perfectly boned appendage. "Does it hurt?"
"A little," he said with a wince when I barely grazed his knuckles.
"It looks terrible," I muttered, acknowledging the bruising that circled the wounds. "I'm going to put something on it when we get to your house."
He scoffed keeping his eyes locked on the road ahead. "Not necessary."
I shrugged a single shoulder before squeezing each one of his fingers with mine. "It's too bad I don't care what you want."
