Ink My Heart (Luminescent Juliet, Book Two) by Haus Jean

Author:Haus, Jean [Haus, Jean]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Skyscape
Published: 2013-11-10T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

Justin

Saturday night takes forever to come, but when Allie opens the door to her apartment, the sight of her makes the wait worth it. The smile on her face is warm and welcoming, and her gray eyes are bright. She’s dressed simply in a tank and flowing skirt that doesn’t reach her knees, and she looks beautiful from the top of her head all the way to her sandal-clad feet. Those bare legs are going to drive me shit-crazy all night. The nerves I tried to conquer in the car detonate inside of me at how badly I want this second chance to be perfect.

“Hello.” She gestures for me to come inside. “You must be Justin.”

I grin at her way of starting over and roll with it. “And you must be Allie. Your picture on the website doesn’t do you justice. You’re far more beautiful in person.”

“Ah, thank you,” she says, laughing.

Stepping inside, I hand her the flowers and bottle of wine in my hands. Sam is getting sick of me dragging him to the wine store, but by summer I’ll be legal.

Her smile grows. “You didn’t need to bring anything.” She lifts the bouquet of sunflowers, and whatever else the florist put in there. “But they’re lovely.”

“There’s need and there’s want. I wanted to.”

Still smiling, she shakes her head slightly. “Well, I suppose we did need the wine. I didn’t have time to get creative. Busy week at work. So we’re having dinner here.”

“Sounds perfect.”

She shuts the door and I glance around the apartment. If I keep looking at her, we won’t be eating dinner.

We’re in a big, carpeted room with a small dining table at one end and a leather couch across from a TV at the other. The tall tiled counter/bar behind the table opens to a narrow galley kitchen. Everything is plain and simple, from the wooden table to the cotton curtains. Except for the paintings on the walls. They’re bright and vibrant. I walk to one that hangs above the square dining table. Decrepit old buildings lining the edges of the painting frame the colorful swirling sky at its center.

“This yours?” I ask as she sets the wine on the counter/bar and reaches for an empty vase near the sink.

“Yes…you like?”

“It’s amazing.” I lean closer, studying the paint strokes. “There appears to be a contrast with the deteriorating buildings and the beauty of sunset.”

“Pretty much what I was going for,” she says, unwrapping the flowers and turning on the kitchen faucet.

I move toward the painting above the couch. “Your son?”

“Yes, Ben at two months.”

The wide-eyed baby lies in a bright blanket, with swirling colors leaping out of the painting. I let out a low whistle. “And I thought your tats were good.”

Setting the flower-filled vase on the table, Allie smiles with satisfaction. I’d love to see that look in bed. “Thank you. That’s quite a compliment coming from someone who has been to as many museums and galleries as you.”

I glance at a painting of wilting sunflowers, obviously van Gogh inspired, in the kitchen.

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