“Yes, if it’s not too much trouble.”
He grinned and my eyes went straight to his lips. “No trouble at all.”
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his mouth. Had his lips always been so alluring?
He reached up and ran his hand over his mouth and chin. “Do I have something on my face?”
I jolted when I realized he caught me staring. “Oh, no. Sorry, I’m really tired, and I guess I zoned out for a second.”
“Well, I’ll get out of your hair so you can get some rest,” he said and headed for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ariel.”
“See ya, Ink,” she said from her spot on the couch.
I followed along behind him, watching him walk through my house. He really was an attractive man. I mean, I’d noticed that right away, but I hadn’t given it much thought until Ariel said she thought he was interested in me. I wasn’t sure about that, but I was definitely more aware ofhim.
He stopped abruptly, and I almost ran into the back of him. “Hey, Ariel. Your mom said you have a knife in your car. If you ever have to use it, go for the stomach with the sharp part facing the sky. The body will naturally move forward or slump. Let gravity do some of the work for you,” he said.
“Papa said the same thing, but he told me to swing it up under their balls and let them fall on the blade.”
Ink grimaced—like most men did when a significant testicular injury was mentioned—causing Ariel and me to laugh. “Yeah, I suppose that would work, too,” he said.
At the front door, Ink stepped onto the porch and turned back to face me. “I know I’ve said this before, but call me if you need anything. I don’t care what time it is.”
“I will.”
“And if you ever feel uncomfortable here, you’re welcome to stay at my place or at one of the vacant houses on the farm. We have a couple that are furnished and stocked for reasons just like this.”
“Thanks, Ink,” I said sincerely.
“All right. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Then, he leaned forward and placed a kiss on my forehead before he turned and walked to his bike.
When I closed the door and turned around, Ariel was staring at me with her mouth hanging open. Then, she jumped up and squealed. “He kissed you! On the freaking forehead!”
“I know!” I squealed back as we both proceeded to jump around and scream like the teenage girl only one of us was.
12
INK
When I got home, I parked my bike and walked over to Dice and Daphne’s. It was close to London’s bedtime, so I lightly tapped on the back door before letting myself in. “Hello,” I said quietly as I entered the kitchen. Then I heard London crying from down the hall. Before I could take another step in that direction, Diablo appeared in front of me like the little devil I knew he could be.
I’d grown to really like him, but I can admit that he scared the shit out of me when I first met him. I swear, for the first few weeks, he’d show his teeth the second Daphne turned away, like he was taunting me. But somewhere along the way, he figured out that Dice and I would protect Daphne the same way he did. “It’s just me,” I said and reached out to pet his head. “What’s wrong with little London?” I asked. Diablo snorted, followed by a huff, before he plopped down on his bed beside the couch.
“Daph!” I called. “You need some help?”
She appeared in the hallway and hurried in my direction with a very upset London in her arms. “Yes! Take her,” she said and handed her screaming, and somewhat sticky, daughter to me. “I’ll be right back.”
“Why is she sticky?” I asked as Daphne ran back down the hall. London let out a loud wail and tried to burrow her head into my shirt. “What’s the matter, sweet girl? I’ve never seen you so upset.” The little whimper that came from her broke my heart.
Daphne reappeared moments later with her arms full of baby shit that she dumped onto the kitchen table. “What’s wrong with her?” I asked.
“I think she might be sick. She fell asleep earlier than usual and woke up crying. At first, I thought it might be her teeth, but then she threw up. I got her cleaned up and gave her some medicine, but she threw that up too, which is why she’s sticky. Sorry,” Daphne grimaced.
“I can handle a little baby vomit. Now, if she shits on me, that’s a different story,” I joked. “What do you need me to do?”
“Can you hold her for a minute while I run some water in the sink? I’m going to give her a quick bath and then see if I can get some medicine in her. Does she feel hot to you?” she asked while she zipped around the kitchen.
I gently placed my hand on London’s cheek and moved it to the part of her forehead not smushed against my cut. She was still sniffling and whimpering, but she wasn’t full-blown crying, so I didn’t want to disturb her if I didn’t have to. “Yeah, she feels hot to me.”
