It doesn’t take long until I am finished.
With a satisfied sigh, I wash myself and grab a thick towel, drying off gently. And I’m still thinking about Mila Hill. What the fuck?
On the one hand, I suppose it’s normal. She did save my life, after all. And for the life of me, I can’t remember if I thanked her. Normally, I wouldn’t give a shit, but there is something about her that makes me think about things that I normally wouldn’t. Something soft and sweet, something real and genuine.
And now I’m acting like a fucking *.
I grab a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and pull them on.
I’m going to put this to rest right now. I’ll simply ask around and find out where she works, tell her thank you and get on with my life. She definitely isn’t the kind of person that I should invest time in. There’s no way that my lifestyle or my personality would ever please her, not in the long run. And I’m not in the business of changing myself for anyone.
As I jam the key into my car, I think about her again, how the dark red shirt that she wore the other day was pulled so tautly across her perky, full boobs. It makes me wonder what they look like naked. Her nipples are probably pink and tilted toward the sky. My dick gets hard again.
Fuck.
********
Mila
“Why are you giving me such a hard time about this?” I demand of my sister.
Madison looks up from where she is sitting at a small table in my shop, browsing my latest black and white prints of the lake.
Her blonde hair is draped over her slender shoulder, her body curled up into the chair. I had gotten our mother’s dark hair, while Maddy had inherited our father’s. She is taller than me, model tall. Lanky, thin, gorgeous. I’m the small and dark one. The baby of the family. Only now, she and I are our only family. The Hill family, party of two.
Right now, Maddy looks surprised by my question.
“Why? Because you haven’t mentioned a guy to me for, like, two years. Maybe even longer. That’s why. It piques my interest.”
I roll my eyes and wipe my hands on my smock, smearing the gray and black paint across my hips. I’m painting the full moon and landscape from the other night, and it seems like it should be portrayed by varying shades of black. A dark landscape, a dangerous night. I only hope that I can do it justice on the canvas.
“Of course I’m going to mention saving a guy’s life,” I tell her matter-of-factly. “Anyone would. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Doesn’t it?” Maddy arches one perfectly waxed eyebrow, her gaze glued to mine.
I shake my head.
“No. It doesn’t. A guy overdosed. I gave him CPR and called an ambulance. The End.”
Maddy smiles the kind of smile that means she’s just getting started.
“Yes, but you’ve elaborated several times about how good-looking he is. How dangerous. How fascinating. Seems to me that that doesn’t mean The End. And that both interests me and concerns me. This guy overdosed. On drugs. You found him convulsing in his car. That’s not exactly what I would consider relationship material.”
Maddy pauses here, her face strict and stern. I roll my eyes.
“Mila, I’m being serious,” she insists, perturbed that I’m not paying enough attention. “I haven’t personally met him, although I’ve seen him at the restaurant a few times. From what I’ve heard, he doesn’t even work. He’s a trust fund baby; a spoiled brat who doesn’t have to be responsible. Apparently, he’s a mess. A true bad boy. He would eat you for breakfast.”
And this has gone far enough.
“Maddy, let it go,” I sigh. “Seriously. It was just an interesting situation and I wanted to tell you about it. I won’t make that same mistake again, trust me, not if it’s going to earn me an unfounded lecture. You said yourself that you haven’t even met him. Besides, I’m not considering him for relationship material. I’ll probably never even see him again so you can turn off your mama bear instincts. Now, can you get back to telling me about the restaurant? What’s wrong?”
Madison turns serious now and sets the portfolio to the side, unfolding her legs from beneath her. Her deep blue eyes are troubled and that gets my attention. She’s been taking care of our parents’ restaurant ever since they died and if she’s concerned, then I should be too.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her again. I’m nervous because Maddy never shows her concern. As the big sister of our relationship, she always hides it. Always.
She sighs, her voice thin and wispy, before she turns to me.
“I may have miscalculated the risks involved with doing those renovations.”