Touch Slowly (Red Light: Silver Girls series) (15 page)

"She never asks for help. Nick shares his beer when I come over. It makes me feel better if I pay my way." She smoothed her shirt over her stomach.

"I've only seen you drink one beer while you're here." He closed his mouth and shook his head, ending his thought. "You're a good person, Nova-girl."

She was many things, but a good person remained questionable. She lied to him all the time. She hid the truth to protect herself and in the process harmed those who meant the most to her. Even now, she built up the wall between her and Emmett. It was the only way to protect herself from being hurt. And, she would hurt when he rejected her because of the decisions she'd made, and continued to make.

"Emmett." She sagged atop the bed, burdened by the overwhelming feelings weighing her down every day and needing to give him something real, something genuine, something to make him stay. "I like you."

"I know."

She nodded.  Of course, he knew. She’d kissed him back.

“I’m confused,” she said.

“I know that, too.”

“There’s a lot going on in my life. I want to give you the time you need with me to learn...to get to know me better, but even being here at night isn’t a convenient time for me.” Out of breath, she inhaled and continued. “Later, once I’m done with my vacation. I’ll have more time. It’s unfair of me to ask you to hang on a little longer, to go slow, to understand and trust me that what I’m thinking and feeling is real. I’m not trying to jerk you around. I’m not.”

Emmett stepped inside the room, approached the bed, and held out his hand. “Come with me.”

She inhaled the clean aroma of Lava and Emmett and slipped her fingers into his palm. His broad hand encased her with warmth and safety. She’d follow him anywhere.

One word.

One promise.

One touch.

She’d forget her obligations and throw herself at a chance of love if it meant keeping Emmett in her life. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” He opened the door and led her outside to his 'Cuda.

Then he let go of her and stuck his head through the opened passenger window. She hugged herself, chilled from the night air. The voices of the others played behind her. Yet, all she concentrated on was him.

Emmett pulled his head out from inside the car, straightened, and handed her a can of spray paint. She gazed up at him, shaking the paint until the ball bearing beat a rhythmic
rat-a-tat-tat
against the container. The familiar object in her hand came with a rush of pleasure and made years of unhappiness disappear.

She was once again a young girl out on an adventure, looking for excitement, and not worried about what tomorrow would bring, but the satisfaction of what she could complete tonight.

“Are you up to taking a walk?” Emmett handed her another paint can and then put one in each back pocket and carried two more in one hand.

“Absolutely.” She smiled, feeling the joy clear down to her toes.

Nick approached Emmett. "What's going on?"

"I'm going to take Nova away from the house," said Emmett.

Neither men spoke. Nick raised his brows at Emmett. She swung her gaze in the same direction and caught Emmett's mouth tightened back at Nick. They were communicating something only they understood, but if she had to guess, she was the subject of their silent discussion.

Then, both men looked at her, relaxed, and Nick walked away. Yep, definitely about her.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

"What? Nick?" Emmett shrugged. "He's just looking out for his cousin."

"Oh," she whispered, warmth filling her. It'd been six years since she'd felt protected by her older cousin and she had to admit, his concern over her safety made her happy.

Emmett held her free hand and walked her to the road. The others forgotten, she concentrated on Emmett walking slower than normal. The grip on her hand firm, promising not to let her get away, while his thumb caressed the back of her hand, reminding her of how incredibly close they were.

The trailers dotted each side of their path. Voices from televisions provided the background sound. Occasionally, a small dog yapped from inside the thin walls in encouragement of them being together. Her chest buzzed with the familiar, and she slunk into a feeling of security she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“I’m glad you came tonight,” he said.

She leaned against his arm. “I’m sorry I ignored your texts. Shayla was upset with me, and I wanted to give her time to understand our disagreement.”

“I’m not Shayla.”

“I know.” She matched her steps with his. “It was important for me to stay away.”

He stopped walking. “I don’t want to know what is going on between you two, but what I have with you, what I want with you, has nothing to do with Shayla or Nick. Don’t shut me out. I don’t have much time with you, and I want every minute I can get.”

“For the next six and a half weeks?’

“Until I’m ready to watch you walk away.” He kissed her forehead. “Until I know what is happening between us.”

“Is it that easy for you?”

“Didn’t say it was going to be easy, but I’ve never walked away from what scares me, and I’m not starting now.” Emmett pointed into the dark at a small concrete building. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

He jogged off into the darkness of the night. She squinted at his back until she could no longer see him. Every park had a laundry facility, and she suspected behind the wall, there would be four or five run-down and dirty washers and a couple of dryers that ate up quarters faster than any of the residents could feed the slots.

An overhead flood light buzzed to brightness. She stepped forward onto the grass. The faded word
LAUNDRY
on the side of the concrete block building backed her theory of the origins of what was inside.

Emmett walked around the corner of the building and motioned for her. She hurried over the grass.

“What are we doing here?” She blinked letting her eyes get used to the light.

Emmett removed the cans of spray paint from his back pockets and laid them on the ground at his feet. “You mentioned you’re an artist, and you work with rattle cans.”

“I do, or I did.” She tilted her head and held in her laughter. “Are you telling me, Mr. Park Manager, that you want me to vandalize the very grounds that you swore to take care of and protect?”

He stared at her. When she grew uncomfortable, wondering if her sense of humor was one joke short of funny, he smiled. His head tilted back, and he laughed. The freely given baritone chuckle vibrated through her. She pulled off the cap of the spray can and shook the container.

“I’m scheduled to paint the building next weekend. Prove to me your artwork is better than slapping the shit-brown color I have sitting at home in two gallon cans.” He slipped his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “Show me your stuff, Nova-girl.”

Competitive by nature, she cocked her eyebrow and stepped to the wall. She rolled the cans lying on the ground with her toe. He had enough colors of paint for her to create anything she wanted.

“Before I start, do you have something in mind?” she asked, holding the can to her ear to listen to the rattle.

“Nope. Give it your best shot.”

With his permission, she swept her arm out in front of her and pushed the nozzle on the top of the can. The image of what the building needed clear in her mind, she worked steadily. First with the black. As her movements, the rush, the need to finish consumed her, she forgot about Emmett standing behind her. The creative juice she’d sought for all those angsty teenage years when street art let her get rid of the pain that continued to hurt her and helped heal her flowed through her body.

An idea came to her. A picture that would speak volumes to those living in Bitterroot Trailer Park.

A
fraid to say a word and interrupt Nova while she lost herself painting the old wall of the laundry building, Emmett stood back and watched in rapt fascination. His gaze dropped to her firm, round ass, almost dancing in front of him. Her speed and precise movements produced different textures on the wall in a scene he would never have believed possible if he wasn't witnessing it with his own eyes.

The shading of colors overlapping each other almost fooled him into thinking he’d given her an array of different colored paints. With only primary colors to work with, she’d more than impressed him. He'd expected cartoon characters and bubble names. Instead, she'd created an exquisite piece of art that was more than worthy to frame and hang in a museum.

She’d used her talents to depict the Bitterroot Mountains they all called home and the majestic pine trees covering the peaks. The morning sun rose at the top and shadowed the valley below. The dotted, green landscape embraced the homes of everyone in the trailer park.

The realistic rendition took his breath away at the same time comforting him at the view she gave him of his home through her eyes.

Nova stepped back, walked the length of the wall, glanced at him and graced him with a smile that stroked his cock, before moving forward and spraying her name in bold print with a white border in the bottom right-hand corner of the scene.

She dropped the two spray cans of paint she held in her hands and approached him. He couldn’t take his gaze off her. The glow across her cheeks. The mussed hair she’d haphazardly brushed off her face as she worked. The carefree elation she'd experienced smiled at him. He’d thought her beautiful before, but to see her in the atmosphere she loved, doing what sparked her spirit, he wanted to build blank walls all over the damn park and ask her to paint him a brand new world.

“So...” She stepped toe to toe with him. “What do you think?”

“A street artist, huh?” he said, pulling the words from his throat.

“Yeah.” She laughed softly into the night. “Fancy name for vandalism.”

He hooked her neck, holding her gaze on him. “I think I’ll have some free time next weekend because there’s no way in hell I’m going to paint over what you created tonight.”

“Oh, yeah?” She leaned into him.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, grazing her lips.

She broke the kiss and pulled back holding up her fingers. "I've got paint all over my hands."

He pressed his hand to her palm, finger to finger, thumb to thumb. "I don't give a shit about paint if you don't care about grease-stained hands."

"Working man's hands," she whispered.

He whispered back, "The slow touch of an artist."

Nova curled her fingers between his and pulled him closer. He kissed her. The possessive hold she had on him made an impression. Her declaration of her feelings in Shayla’s bedroom earlier tried to warn him away and yet she gave him enough to stay close and not give up on her.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

Tonight, he’d only removed the first layer of what made up Nova Kinsley. A tease of what he’d find if he worked harder.

“I’m going to go slow. A kiss here.” He put his lips on the tip of her nose. “And, here.” He bent his knees, dipping lower, and nuzzled her neck. “And, I'll keep kissing you until you find religion."

"Religion?" She let her head fall back. "Oh, God..."

His lips curved into a smile against her. His woman found Jesus.

Her laughter came fast and she straightened, grabbing his face. "I really, really like you."

He inhaled deeply, running his tongue over his bottom lip still tasting her. “I want to take you to bed and have sex with you. On a morning when neither one of us have to work, I want to lay in bed all day learning all the secrets that will make you smile at me the way you have tonight.”

“Emmett,” she whispered, letting her head fall back and giving him more access to her neck. “It’s not convenient right now—”

“Know that.” He straightened and gazed down into her eyes. “I don’t know what made you leery of me or what happened in the past, but I swear to God, Nova-girl, I will go slow. Just don’t let anything else get between us so we can continue to move forward, too.”

She nodded. “I’ll try.”

“Good.” He deeply inhaled. “Is there anything else you need to do to the side of the wall?”

“No. I'm finished.” She glanced back at the building. “The paint you gave me was high quality. It was perfect. Some of the best I've used.”

“Touch-up.”

She blinked up at him.

“Car paint. From my store,” he said, clarifying.

“Nice.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. “This has been the perfect night.”

“Not yet, but it will be.”

"Yeah?" Her body quivered in excitement.

"Hold on." He pulled away. “I’m going to go shut off the light. It discourages the kids in the park from sneaking in and prying open the quarter machines when they think everyone is sleeping.”

He jogged to the laundry building, taking one more look at the art gracing the wall. Tomorrow, the park would be swarming with gossip on which one of them painted the scene.

Reaching inside the door, he flipped the light switch and let his eyes grow accustomed to the dark before stepping out on the gravel path. He stared up at the sky until the stars showed in his vision, then headed toward Nova.

She stood exactly where he'd left her and could sense her smiling through the darkness at him. He'd had a plan to force her to admit her feelings, and she'd voluntarily gave him enough he wanted to go slow. She was too special to fuck over by treating her like all the other women he'd seen over the years.

He gathered her in his arms. "Are you warm enough?"

"I am with you holding me." She put her arm around his waist and walked beside him.

"I want to show you something." He placed his hand on the back of her neck, pulling her close.

She tucked her hand into his back pocket. "I have to leave soon."

"It won't take long."

She laid her head against the crook of his arm and gazed up at him. "You're mysterious all of a sudden."

"Me?" He laughed. "Everyone knows everything about me."

"How old are you?"

"That's important to you?" He stopped in the middle of the road.

She turned to him. "Not at all, but I thought I'd ease my way into asking you a simple question while I work myself up to asking if you'd mind waiting awhile before having sex with me."