The Wall of Winnipeg and Me

I hated it.

Why? Why him?

Of all the people in the world I could have chosen to think the world of, it had to be this one. The one who didn’t want a real relationship because he didn’t want to put time into it. The guy who only loved one thing in his life and everything else came trailing after it.

Then again…

He’d been making a serious effort to spend time with me. He’d done things for me that I still couldn’t completely wrap my head around. He’d been more than just friendly with me.

What did it mean though? Weren’t those part of the requirements mandatory in a real relationship? Wasn’t it enough to be with each other when you could, or was I just trying to convince myself there was something there? He’d kissed me. That couldn’t mean nothing, could it?

That was exactly what I was in the middle of thinking of—and eyeing those great lips—when he caught me. So all I could do was give him a closed mouth smile. “Why not?”

Cracking both eyes open, Aiden rolled to his back and stretched his arms high behind his head, rolling his wrists in the process as he yawned.

“Thanks for putting me in bed last night,” I said, watching the swift line of his throat as he yawned again.

He grumbled, “Uh–huh,” as he rolled his shoulders before slipping his arms beneath the covers again.

“And for giving me a massage.” I had already tried moving my legs, and sure they were sore, but I knew how much worse they could be. I’d done everything I was supposed to do to help prevent the stiffness, but there was only so much a body that wasn’t 100 percent to begin with could handle.

“There wasn’t much to massage.”

Uh. “What’s the supposed to mean?”

“I have more muscles in my glutes than you have in your thighs.”

Anyone who had seen Aiden’s ass would know that was a fact, so I wasn’t going to take it personally. Maybe because I was still so sleepy, I raised my eyebrows at him and said, “Have you seen your butt? That’s not an insult. It has more muscles in it than most people have all over their bodies.”

His own thick eyebrows rose about a millimeter, just slightly but enough for me to notice. “I didn’t know you paid that much attention to it.”

“Why do you think you have so many female fans?”

Aiden let out another low groan, but he didn’t tell me to stop.

“You could raise a small fortune if you ever auctioned off the chance for a person to take a—”

“Vanessa!” Mr. Proper reached over to throw a hand over my mouth, like he was shocked.

That big hand literally covered me from ear to ear, and I burst out laughing though it was muffled.

“You make me feel cheap,” he said as he slowly pulled his hand away, but the shine in his eyes said he didn’t really mind it that much.

I stretched my own limbs with a yawn. “I’m just telling you what anyone else would.”

“No, no one else would ever say that to me.”

So he had a point. “Well, I’ll tell you the truth then.”

He made this noise that had me rolling to face him again. “You always have.”

Why did it feel like he was trying to tell me something? “I’ll always try to be honest with you,” I lied, hesitantly. Unless it was something I was scared to tell him, like my feelings for him, or me quitting.

“You can tell me anything.”

How was I supposed to live my life after that? Especially when I was lying on his bed and he was sitting up next to me, sharing the same covers. I wished I had the guts to tell him anything, but the truth was, I didn’t.

There was only so far I was willing to jump on my own.

I sensed the weight of a stare before I glanced up. Directly in front of me and his desk was the big guy. Literally right in front of me. I’d been completely hunched over, so focused on what I was doing that I had zoned out.

“Jesus Christ. How do you not make any noise?” He was stealthy like an overweight, mutant cat, damn it.

“Skills.” I swear to God I almost choked. He took a step forward, his hands planting themselves on the edge of the desk as he leaned over to look at what I was working on. “What is that?”

I lowered my pencil to the desk and slid the piece toward him. “It’s a diptych tattoo design.” I pointed at the images on the two separate panes I was still in the middle of outlining. “It’s supposed to be one for each leg, you see? One part is Medusa’s face and the other is her hair—the snakes.”

When he didn’t say anything, I held back a frown. “You don’t like it?” I thought it was coming along well.

“Van, that’s…” He lowered his face closer to the design. “It’s amazing. Someone’s paying you to do that for them?”

“Yep.” I looked back at the Medusa and had to agree with him. It was pretty damn awesome. “I know a guy in Austin who does tattoo work. Sometimes someone will ask for a certain style he’s not good at, and if no one else he works with can do it, he’ll reach out to me. My line drawing is pretty good.” I glanced back up at him and grinned. “My watercolors aren’t too shabby either. I’m a woman of many talents.”

Unless someone wanted a portrait, then I’d pretend to be asleep so I wouldn’t have to admit how bad at them I was.

“I’ve never really thought about tattoos much, but I might have to think about having you make me one,” he answered in a distracted voice.