“Is that a bed?”
“Mm-hmm. Why should they only be for bedrooms? When you think about it, most spaces would be improved by adding a bed.”
“That’s true. Better than putting a bathtub in your yard.” He zoomed in on the next pictures. “Is that you?”
“Yeah.”
“And I’m there too.”
She nodded.
“It’s incredible.” He twisted to look at her. “That’s what I was going to say before.”
“Oh.”
“I could tell what it was. I just can’t believe you painted all that—onme.”
“You’re like a mullet. Business in front, party in the back.” Sheknelt beside him, looking over his shoulder at the image he was still studying. “Don’t feel like you have to stop saying nice things.”
“I wish it was permanent. Do you think I can just shower my front half, to make it last longer?”
“You’d probably need help. Okay fine, I’ll give you a sponge bath.”
“Should I sleep on my stomach, so it won’t smudge?”
“I think you should enjoy it in the moment and not worry about tomorrow. That’s part of the fun.”
“So if I want to keep it there’s no way to make it last?”
Jean figured the odds were about fifty-fifty they were still talking about his body art. “Did I mention the paint is edible? Maybe you should do me next.”
His expression was torn. Sexy arts ’n’ crafts or real talk? Jean knew which one she’d prefer. She had no problem speaking her mind; it was the heart she tried to avoid.
Climbing onto the low dresser, she made a V with her knees, crooking a finger at him. “Get over here, pretty boy.” She gave him her best come-hither look. “I promise not to mess up your paint.”
“Jean.”
“I know. I’m a terrible influence. The formal apology is in the mail.”
He moved toward her, fighting a losing battle against the smile that was trying to break free. The sweetness of his expression, with that lock of dark hair falling over his forehead, undid her almost as much as the grip of his hands on her thighs as he positioned himself in front of her. For all his gentleness, Charlie was the sharp end of a knife pointed directly at Jean’s hidden weak spots.
She wasn’tscaredof him exactly, because Jean laughed in the face of danger. But it did feel like an opportune moment to test her deflector shields.
“Listen.” Jean pressed a hand to his chest before he could get any closer. “We’re just having fun, right?”
He looked like he wanted to argue.
“We don’t have to talk about it. This is me telling you not to develop unrealistic expectations. Don’t put too much faith in me, because I’m not the most reliable person in the world.”And I don’t want to disappoint you. She kept that part to herself.
His palms moved up and down her thighs. Jean wasn’t sure which of them he was soothing. After a long, thinking silence, he presented his counterargument.
“Would an unreliable person tell me not to trust them?”
That took the wind out of her sails. Jean’s mouth worked, her usual glibness failing. “Actually,” she started to say, but he shook his head.
“I love that you don’t treat me like a child. Or act like there’s something wrong with me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you.” She pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Except that you have unusually excellent taste in women.”
