As I walked by him into the large apartment, I could smell his fresh, clean skin. It was contradictory to the gruff look of his hair, face, tattoos, and messy jeans. But he smelled perfect.
“Let me grab a shirt,” he said as he shut the door and walked across the open floor plan.
There was a bed in the corner next to a large window. A dresser against the wall at the foot of the bed. He opened the second drawer and took out the first shirt he grabbed. His back muscles twisted and flexed in an unfair way as he put the shirt on.
By the time he turned around, I had forced my eyes to look somewhere else.
“To what do I owe this visit?” he asked. “Figured you hated me.”
“Why would I hate you?” I asked.
His bare feet shuffled across the wooden floor.
God, why is that so sexy?
He went to the fridge and got out two bottles of beer.
“Drink?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said.
He twisted off the caps and slid one of the bottles to the edge of the counter.
“Were you not there the other night?” he asked. “Or was that a different Amelia? Do you have an evil twin?”
“What if I do?” I asked.
“Then I’m in trouble.”
“Why’s that?”
Josh smirked. “Well, because I kissed your evil twin. And I liked it.”
I couldn’t control the heat that filled my face even if I controlled the look on it. That lasted all of a few seconds before guilt washed over me.
“I’m sorry about that,” I whispered.
“For what? Being jealous? Mean?”
“I was working, Josh. To be fair, when I came to your job, you were a dick to me.”
Josh opened his mouth but didn’t say a word. He took a drink of his beer instead.
“Damn,” he finally said. “You’re right.”
“I am,” I said. “So, you were bothering me. Just like I was bothering you.”
“Only I wasn’t trying to get your story,” he said. “I’m not going to write up the story about a pretty waitress and how I couldn’t stop staring at her the entire time I was at the restaurant.”
“Really?” I asked.
“What?”
“Thanks for saying that. I don’t necessarily feel pretty when I’m working.”
“Neither do I,” Josh said.
I laughed. “You feel pretty then sometimes?”
“Depends on my mood.”
“And what’s your mood now?”
“Settled,” he said.
“Settled? I guess that’s good.”
“Settled because you’re here, love,” he said. “Which leaves me to wonder… what exactly are you doing here?”
I put my bag on the counter and traded it for the beer Josh offered.
“I brought you something to read.”
Chapter 18
All Your Wings
NOW
(Josh)
As I reached for the flipped over story, Amelia smacked my hand.
“Not while I’m here.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Seriously. This is bad. It’s embarrassing, Josh.”
“That’s the point. It’s supposed to be. You wrote this when you were… ten?”
“Thirteen.”
“Oh,” I said, lifting an eyebrow. “Still with talking animals then?”
“Shut up.”
“Hey, it’s all you knew, right?”
“It’s all I had,” she said. “You know that. Of all people, you know that.”
I looked at the story and moved my hand away. When Amelia tried to take her hand away, I hurried to grab it. My fingers curled around her hand and it was a little awkward since our arms were outstretched across the island in the kitchen.
“Remember we used to do this?” I asked her.
“Hold hands. Yeah. It made me feel safe.”
“You were always crazy coming to that part of town, Amelia. It was really dangerous.”
“What? You and those fools you hung out with?”
“Fools, huh?” I asked.
I gave her hand a tug and she playfully sidestepped toward me. I did the same and inched toward her. We were closer, still holding hands.
“That was a shit part of town,” I said. “There were always fights and problems.”
“So what? You were a teenager. Isn’t that what you were supposed to do?”
“You don’t have the half of it then, love. Which is good. I never wanted you near that stuff.”
“What happened to the guys you hung out with?”
“Well… Murph is in jail. For stealing who knows what. Last I heard, Nash was in rehab. He got messed up real badly with drugs. And Abel… believe it or not, he’s a lawyer.”
“What?”
“I know. He packed up and moved far away then put himself through college and law school.”
“And you became a tortured artist, huh?” Amelia asked.
“Tortured? Where did that come from?”
“I don’t know. I’m just feeling wordy at the moment.”
“Wordy,” I said. “Thanks to me?”
“Actually…no.”
That’s when Amelia pulled her hand away from me.
She moved down around the counter where she had been standing. The way she grabbed her beer bottle and took a swig… it was like someone cutting my heart.
She was seduction. Temptation. Beauty.
Everything I remembered.
Everything I wanted to forget.
“I really have to wait for you to leave to read this?” I asked Amelia as I pointed to the story she brought.
“Yes. I might let you read the first page.”
“What’s the fee?”
“Part of your story.”
I turned and leaned against the counter and folded my arms. “How about you tell me what’s got you wordy?” I looked at her. “Or why you stopped writing in the first place.”
“Things just didn’t work out,” Amelia said.
“With what?”
“I almost had a book deal,” she said. “It fell through and it just… it hurt.”
I nodded. “I get that, love.”
“Do you?” she asked. “You seem pretty popular, Josh. People would do anything to see your stuff.”
“I wonder how many are full of bullshit. Who see, but don’t actually see.”
“They at least show up and tell you it’s good.”
“Anyone can do that, Amelia. Lying is the easiest thing in the world. Tell someone you love them when you don’t. Tell someone they’re beautiful when they’re not. Tell someone their story is good when you haven’t read it. Or tell someone that a picture or painting speaks to them, but they have their hands over their ears.”
“Is that what you’re doing to me? Lying. Saying whatever you think I want to hear so you can read some stupid story I wrote when
