A Little Bit Wicked - Melissa Foster Page 0,68

and more emotional person than she’d ever imagined. “I’ve never thought much about tattoos, but I really like yours. They say a lot about you. The symbolism is intense.”

“Life has been pretty intense.”

She ran her fingers over the ink on his back, sensing that the symbolism was as vital to him as the blood running through his veins. “Some people wear their hearts on their sleeves. You wear yours on your back.”

He sat up and said, “You wear yours in your eyes.” He kissed her softly. “When you look at me like you are right now, it makes me want to stay with you all night. But we’ve got a big date tomorrow, and I think I’d better let you get some sleep.”

Stay was on the tip of her tongue, but she held back. There were so many new emotions going on between them, she could practically see them whirling over their heads.

As he helped her to her feet, he said, “I’ll come by tomorrow and clean this up for you.”

“Can we leave it for a few days? It’s a good memory.”

“You’re not worried about the sand getting on your floors?”

She shook her head. “We live on the Cape. There’s always sand on my floors. Besides, these memories are worth it.”

He embraced her and said, “You’re pretty awesome, sweet cheeks.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, biker boy. I’ll walk you out to your truck.”

“That’s not how it works, sweets. I’ll walk you in and make sure your place is locked up tight.”

“Justin, I can handle locking up.”

“I know you can, but throw me a bone, will ya? It’s my second night as your boyfriend and I want to do boyfriend things.”

As they walked inside, she said, “I think you just did some pretty fantastic boyfriend things…”

Chapter Eleven

SATURDAY EVENING JUSTIN climbed from his truck in front of Chloe’s house, trying to calm his nerves. He’d been counting down the hours until their date since he left her last night. Chloe had gone into work for much of the day, and he’d worked at Cape Stone in the morning, swung by to check on the dogs, and then spent the afternoon in his studio, so their texts were few and far between. They were just as flirty and fun as always, which was a huge relief. Chloe was an overthinker, and he hoped she didn’t regret anything they’d done last night. He also hoped he’d planned a date she’d enjoy. Dinner at a nice restaurant in Provincetown, a romantic moonlight walk, and maybe they’d have a drink on the pier. He wanted time to talk and focus on each other instead of hitting a movie or some club where they’d be distracted from getting to know each other even better.

He grabbed the bouquet of flowers he’d bought and headed up the walk. He’d never bought a woman flowers before, but the gardens in Chloe’s yard were gorgeous and well maintained, which meant she appreciated them. Plus, Mike had told him dozens of stories about the times he’d picked flowers for his wife and how much they’d meant to her. Justin wasn’t sure Chloe was a picked-flower type of woman, so he’d gone to his friend Lizzie’s flower shop. He’d been as drawn to the irises as he was to Chloe. Lizzie had said irises symbolized eloquence, faith, wisdom, and hope, which he thought was perfect for his careful girl who had clung to hope of a better future from the time she was a young girl and who took great care in choosing not just her words and actions, but also the people she surrounded herself with.

As he climbed the porch steps, he looked down at his jeans and the V-neck shirt Madigan had given him for Christmas. Madigan had called the color distressed sangria. He didn’t know about that, but he hoped Chloe liked it.

He knocked on the door, and when Chloe answered it, there was no faking the happiness in her hazel eyes, waylaying his fears of her overthinking their being close. She looked beautiful in a glittery champagne-colored tank top and cropped black skinny jeans, with a pair of sexy heels with straps that wound around her ankles.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hello, sweet darlin’. Damn, you look fine. Give me a second to pick up my jaw from the porch.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she closed her eyes for a split second. In that moment of bashfulness, it was easy to imagine the innocent teenager she might have been had her mother not

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