“I’m sorry for coming off the way I did just now. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you, for the record. I’m just not used to this,” I say softly. “But it’s nice being adored.”
“Thanks, I guess,” he replies with a laugh, but it seems forced.
“You’re different, but in all the best ways,” I add.
His chest expands, and I tilt my head to look up at him when he opens his mouth. But he stops and seemingly thinks better of it, probably because he’s afraid I’m still judging him for being so honest and emotionally vulnerable. Guilt settles in my stomach as he smiles down at me and finally speaks again.
“And you really are more sensitive than you let on, aren’t you?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
rowan
“So tell me more about yourself,”I say as I drag my fingertip down Claire’s bare arm, finally getting to trace the outlines of her vibrant tattoos.
She sighs as she nestles into my side. We fit together so perfectly that it makes my chest ache.
“What do you wanna know?” she asks, and I shrug, accidentally jostling her head in the process and making us both laugh.
“Is there a special meaning behind your tattoos?”
“Besides annoying my mom, not really. I just like pretty things,” she replies.
I hum, taking in her answer. “Okay. What grade do you teach?”
“I’m a high school ag teacher and welding instructor.”
“Really?” I can’t help but smile at that. “Does that mean you wrangle a bunch of animals all day?”
“The preferred term is ‘adolescent boy.’ But there isn’t much I haven’t seen,” she replies dryly. “Or smelled. And it’s probably why I have such an appreciation for your bathroom manners.”
I chuckle, imagining her asserting her authority over a bunch of students. “I bet you handle those kids just fine, though.”
“I manage all right.” Her lips quirk, like she’s trying not to brag even though she’s proud of herself. It’s unbelievably sexy, and I forcemyself to continue my line of questioning before I give in to the temptation to roll over and kiss her again. Not that I don’t want to know everything there is to know about her, because that urge is just as strong as the more primitive ones I’m feeling right now, some for the first time in my life. But I have to manage myself better than ever if I want to survive this night.
“Do you enjoy teaching?” I ask, watching her expression change.
Her sigh sounds more like a tired exhale this time. “Most of the time.”
“Hmm. What did you always want to do?”
She tilts her head to peer up at me. “What makes you think I wanted to do something else?”
“Answer my question first.”
She narrows her eyes and studies me before she gives in. “I wanted to be a vet.”
“Because you love animals?”
She nods. “But I got engaged midway through college, and we agreed I should forgo grad school for a job with better hours in case we ever had kids.”
“Makes sense,” I say.
“Except there were no babies, so I traded in one dream to lose both, I guess. At least I still get to work with kids this way. And I have my dogs to dote on for now. Frankie and Oscar are so spoiled and needy that you’d mistake them for a couple of toddlers.”
I feel a twinge in my chest, and I stop to take her hand and bring it up to my mouth. “Frankie and Oscar are lucky to have you. And I’m sorry. I think you’d be an amazing mom,” I tell her as I press a kiss to her knuckles.
She huffs. “Thanks, but God or the stork or whoever’s in charge must see it differently.”
