He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “And an Alka-Seltzer a half hour after you wake up.” His gaze found mine. “For your hangover tomorrow.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling. Tomorrow I would be thankful for his home remedy, but tonight I couldn’t help but analyze him. “You’re always so…” I struggled with the right word to describe him. Thoughtful was the easy choice, but he wasn’t really thoughtful. That implied he was being generous with the information for the other person’s benefit. And Ezra was definitely not looking out for me for the sake of me. No, it was something more like… “Practical.”
Avoiding my eyes again, he looked forward and if it was any other man I would have sworn his cheeks flushed. “I’ll email you the details of what I’m looking for. You can decide for yourself what you think about the project.”
“You’re crazy.”
His smile was short-lived and filled with self-confidence. “I’m used to getting what I want.”
I felt my sigh all the way down to my toes. “Now that I believe.”
His phone buzzed in the cup holder as if accentuating his point at three in the morning. Which meant it was time for me to end our temporary truce and go to bed.
“That’s my cue to leave,” I mumbled more to myself than Ezra.
“That’s not what you think—”
“You don’t have to explain it to me,” I said quickly.
But apparently he felt like he did. “It’s my sister.”
I talked over him, knowing it didn’t matter who it was because it wasn’t my business. “I’ll see you around, Ezra.”
I hurried from the car, partly because it was a chilly night and partly because I couldn’t wait to get away from him. He had been nice. I could admit that.
But I also had to acknowledge that I wasn’t myself around him. Under normal circumstances, I was polite and kind. I listened attentively and responded considerately. I was all the adverbs that were nice, and reserved, and mature.
Something about Ezra made me lose my cool. I became a snarky, nagging shrew with bite. The filter over my mouth and mind dissolved completely and I was left with only raw truth and rough edges. And I had no problem telling the man no. Which was crazy for me, since I was a ride or die people pleaser.
Deciding to forget about Ezra completely and only remember the non-Ezra parts of the evening, I made my way up to my apartment, totally ignoring the Alfa Romeo that waited to drive away until I was safely inside my building. I started stripping as soon as I’d dead bolted my door. Purse on the kitchen counter. Shoes trailing behind me. Dress off. Bra off. Hair up.
I grabbed an oversized t-shirt, then headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth and deal with the excessive process of taking off my party makeup. Why, oh, why was waterproof eyeliner such a vindictive biotch?
I settled for good enough and headed for my bedroom.
That’s when things went off track.
I stared at my bed for a long time. I had made it this morning so it was nice and inviting with the covers turned down at one corner. My phone was on the brink of dying, so I needed to charge it. And then I needed to go to sleep. I was still buzzed and I had things to do tomorrow, and a million other reasons I had to go to bed that I couldn’t exactly remember off the top of my head.
So that’s what I did.
Just kidding. I turned on the hallway light and headed to my studio where I spent the next three hours trying my best to make domineering shoulders and a jawline that could cut glass. I obsessed over eyes that were nothing but endless mystery. And a mouth that could be so inviting and open, and then cruel and closed off in the span of three seconds.
The moon went to bed before I did. And when I finally released myself from my painting prison, I was no closer to getting the lines, angles, and colors right than I had been a week ago.
When I went to bed it was out of pure frustration and defiance. And when I closed my eyes it was his that taunted me from my dreams. His eyes stared at me, daring me to try harder, be better, to give up this fight with my lust, and give in to my tiny, insignificant crush on him.
Chapter Nine
Buzz.
Buzzzzz.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
I rolled over and slapped my open palm on the nightstand. Then I slapped it again, hoping to find my cell phone. Fumbling around like a blind zombie for a few seconds, I finally grappled the thing into my possession and squinted at the time.
Noon.
Ugh.
I flopped on my back with the unanswered phone still in hand. I’d had six hours of sleep. Or something like that. Clearly, not enough.
For a second, I stared at my bedroom door and remembered why it had been so late early when I finally fell asleep.
Ezra.
Vera. It was Vera’s engagement party and I had celebrated in excess. And everybody knows that when you drink too much you’re wired for hours afterward.
Full of energy.
Unable to fall asleep.
Ugh, again.
Despite my sleepy state, urgency to destroy last night’s evidence paintings pounded through me. Like a herd of elephants rampaging on roller skates.
Or maybe that was my head?
Either way, I knew I had a mess to clean up—literally and figuratively.
My cell started to buzz again, and I cursed at the ceiling fan slowly spinning overhead. Instead of bringing the phone to my face, I rolled over and planted my face on the phone—after I’d swiped answer of course.
“Hello?” a man said—just kidding, that was me. I said hello with a man voice because that’s what I sounded like first thing in the morning.
“Molly,” my mom sighed into the phone. “I thought you’d been trafficked.”
I rubbed my eye with my fist. “Huh?”
“Sex trafficked,” my mom clarified. “When you didn’t answer the first time.”
“I, uh, wha?”
“Molly Nichole are you just now waking up? It’s noon!”
My mother was as hardworking as they got. She had been a public school lunch lady for thirty plus years, so that meant she was used to being up at hours that I still considered the middle of the night. She spent her day managing rowdy kids for both breakfast and lunch, and then she went home and managed my dad who was just as bad. She never took sick days or slept in on weekends. She didn’t have hobbies or shows that she liked, and didn’t really know how to have fun in any capacity. She worked, and she worked, and she worked.
And she expected me to do the same.
“It’s Saturday,” I croaked. “My one day to sleep in.”
“Why do you need to sleep in?” she demanded, her voice hardening with concern. When my mother got nervous she didn’t flutter around like a butterfly afraid to land, she tromped through the situation like a dangerous predator that had been threatened with extinction. My mom was not a dainty flower. She was a Tyrannosaurus Rex—lethal except for the tiny arms.
“I threw Vera an engagement party last night, Mom. It ended late. I’m tired today.”
“Hungover you mean.” Well, she wasn’t wrong. “But that was nice of you. Vera’s a good friend.”