AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Owen’s eyebrows tug together. “The apple bobbing?”
“Sorry, no. My mind wandered there. I mean having businesses volunteer their time at the Harvest Festival.” It encourages a sense of community involvement and reminds residents we’re all in this together.
His mouth tugs into a smirk. “You say that because you’re planning to have Georgia volunteer right along with you.”
“Guilty.” I have to subdue a smirk of my own. Of course, my volunteering together plan would have been a whole lot smoother without her matchmaking plan heaped on top of it.
“How’s your arm doing?” I ask.
He lifts his short sleeve to reveal a new tattoo scene covering his left upper arm. The right is already covered shoulder to wrist. He’s got more tattoos on his chest I’ve glimpsed when we spar at the gym where he teaches. Probably even more than that, but I haven’t asked for a full inventory.
“All healed.”
He twists his arm so I can see the design. It’s an underwater image that includes everything from softly floating jellyfish to starfish along his elbow to the hammerhead shark centerpiece.
“That’s good work.” I don’t know much about tattoos, but I know good art when I see it.
He replaces the shirt sleeve. “I’m happy with it. Hammerheads are the coolest.”
“Maybe that’s what I need. I’ll get a tattoo to confess to Georgia. One of her drawings permanently inked on my skin would be a pretty good love declaration.” I’m joking, but it’s not the first time the thought’s crossed my mind.
His dark look tells me he isn’t impressed. “You’re a writer. Seems like you could think of another way to confess to her.”
“Possibly.” Like possibly the drawer full of letters I’ve written and never given her. Once in a while, when my heart feels like it’s going to overflow from longing, I write everything I’m feeling in a letter. It’s a relief to get it off my chest, however short-lived. I’ve got a good thirty letters stashed away now.
A full-body tattoo would be less painful than sharing those.
Chapter 6
Georgia
It turns out the bookshelf I was so happy to score for free is haunted. It makes a terrible creaking noise every time the Lazy Susan base moves. Which is, sadly, the whole point of the bookshelf.
Miles drove me to its former residence, and we maneuvered it in and out of his station wagon, up three flights of stairs at my apartment complex, and finally onto my balcony. It’s not very heavy, but it’s awkward to carry, and we’re both a little sweaty after all that wrestling.
With the bookshelf. Duh.
We get it situated on a tarp I set out here for it. I’m not dumb enough to strip the bookshelf’s old paint in my apartment. I have no intention of passing out from toxic fumes.
Miles spins it again, prompting the terrible screech. I put my hand over his and pull him away slowly.
“Don’t do that.”
He chuckles. “Now we know why it was a freebie.”
“WD-40 should do it.” I hope. I can probably take the base apart and inspect it, but my handiness generally stops at the surface level. If paint can’t fix it, I probably can’t either.
“I’m looking forward to seeing what you do with it.”
“Everyone’s got high expectations today,” I grumble as we go back inside.
“Wait.” He stops me with a gentle hand on my arm. “I didn’t mean that to sound critical.”
His immediate and unnecessary apology makes my shoulders sag. He’s not being the jerk—I am. “Sorry. It’s not about you. My dad left me a very…detailed voicemail this afternoon.”
Miles’s gaze turns hard. “Do I want to know the subject?”
I’m sure he can guess by now.
