Page 59 of Miss Typed

This time I grinned. She was sexy as hell when she was feisty. “What do you suggest?”

“Well, you’re not getting your cheeseburgers to go. And I’m heading upstairs before my milkshake melts and my fries are completely inedible.”

My fingers pressed my key fob to lock the Rover. “I can think of no worse tragedy. Lead the way.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chloe

What exactly had we decided on? Aside from him eating my cheeseburgers? Which could be a dirty metaphor in many different ways but in this case wasn’t.

Teagan was already in her room once we came up, leaving me to navigate things by myself. Perhaps she’d been peeking out the window at us and decided to give us privacy.

I led Aiden to my bedroom, feeling awkward about him seeing it for the first time. There wasn’t a lot to it. Full-sized bed against the wall with my pink comforter, bureau of drawers against the opposite wall with framed pictures of my family, and a bookshelf which doubled as a place to put my shoes.

He surveyed the room before picking up the sketch pad on top of my dresser.

Crap, I didn’t need him seeing my drawings. Way too personal. “Give that to me, please.”

He held it up and out of my reach, glancing between me and the picture on display.

My chest hitched and my ears burned at the thought of what he was seeing.

“Did you draw this?”

“Yes, please give it back.”

His curious eyes met mine. “It’s my tattoo.”

There really wasn’t a good way to say I’d been obsessed with it since my first glimpse. “I appreciated the art. Can you please give it to me?”

He handed it over, regarding me curiously. “What else do you draw?”

“Just stuff here and there.”

“May I see it? Please?”

His “please” and the earnest desire to see my work convinced me to hand it over. After all, he’d already seen the embarrassing sketch of his shoulder tattoo.

I closed the door while he took a seat on my bed and thumbed through the pictures I’d drawn. Most were of the city landscapes; some were simpler objects. Some were colored in. Most were done with only my pencil.

“These are amazing, Chloe.” He’d stopped on the page featuring his tribal work.

“Thanks. I enjoy putting together different shapes and textures.”

“Do you paint?”

“I used to.” Hell, I used to do a lot of things, but I’d been so caught up in paying off Donald over the last year I hadn’t had the chance to focus on art. Now, just when I thought I might have the freedom to return to school, I realized I was still on the hook for sending money home to my family.

“Will you give me your bank account information now? Please?” I asked.

He heaved a breath, not looking happy at my tenacity regarding the subject. “You can pay me the forty thousand in your account provided you don’t need it for anything else. Then the difference of the ten thousand over time and without interest. But not one penny more.”

It would have to do, especially since I didn’t ever see coming up with the other sixty grand without going back to stripping. I took out my phone and brought up my notes section. “I’m ready to take down your account number.”

“Now?”

“Now.” I wasn’t typically a girl who stood her ground, but he brought out my stubborn side.