“I know, right?” It's like I’ve been let off the hook for spying. It is the reason I began reading without her. If she's asking for this man, I need to at least understandwhy.
I watch Jackson’s gaze float to the time on the dashboard. “You know, I have to be back here in just a few hours so I might just spend the night at the hospital. Therefore, if you want to read out loud, I'm kind of curious to know what happens—or at least find out more aboutCharlie.”
“You’re as bad as I am,” I tellhim.
“Look, I’m surrounded by emergencies, surgeries, and upset family members daily, and sometimes, even the funniest doctors need an escapetoo.”
“I can see that,” I agree with hisargument.
“Why have I not asked you what you do? I must be very self-absorbed,” he jokes, chuckling at himself. It didn't come up, but I hadn't thought much of it. I'm glad I had a mental break from almost everything tonight, includingwork.
“I'm an artist,” I tell him, keeping itvague.
“An artist?” he asks. “I've never gone out with anartist.”
“We're an odd breed,” I digress while fiddling with the dangling bracelet on mywrist.
“Doctors are a little weirdtoo.”
“Touché,” Iagree.
“What kind ofart?”
“Graphics mostly, with some illustration mixed in. I work with a couple of ad firms in the city, consulting mostly—it keeps mebusy.”
“That's amazing.” His brows rise and his lips part, appearing enamored by what I just call work. It’s sweet. “I’d love to see your worksometime.”
“I'd say the same to you, but seeing as you saved my grandmother's life today, I guess I already have.” I reach out in front of me and trace the Mercedes logo on the dashboard, busying myself as I consider all the strange thoughts racing through my mind. My heart is beating a little faster than usual, and it’s from such a simple conversation we’re having. It feels almost strange that he has this kind of effect on me. I wonder if it’s just a relief to feel good for a few moments after such a horrible day, or maybe it’s the start of somethinggood.
“Well—” He reaches into his back seat and he grabs my bag. After resting the bag on my lap, he reclines his seat back a bit to relax. “Read me an entry before you go.” He looks at me with a strong gaze, affirming his seriousness in hearing more about Grams’slife.
“Are you sure you want to listen? It's not exactly bedtime storymaterial.”
“I'm sure.” His words sound like a hush as he as he places his hand down on my knee. The warmth from his skin melts through the denim material of my pants, and I find it both comforting and arousing. The mere touch from any part of him makes my entire bodyshiver.
