Parker jumps, her head snapping up, eyes wide and guilty. She stares at me for a beat before slamming the notebook closed and jumping to her feet.
“I’m so sorry. Oh my God,” she says, sliding it towards me. “I—I needed a piece of paper. I didn’t mean— I’m so sorry, Lukas.” She looks like she’s about to cry and lord knows I can’t take the sight of her tears.
“It’s ok, Freckles.” I cross the office, sitting on the edge of my desk and pulling her to stand between my legs.
“I really wasn’t trying to snoop,” she whispers, her eyes full of miserable apology.
“I know. It’s ok. Really.” My hands encircle her waist, smoothing over the swell of her hips “See anything you liked?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.
“Yes,” she admits softly. “I didn’t know you could draw.”
I chuckle. “It’s not something I share with most people. It’s just a… hobby.”
“But you’re really good at it.” Warmth curls its way through my chest at her praise. Normally I’d say I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks of me, but with Parker, I care. Her opinion matters.
“Thank you,” I say, bending to kiss her neck. “Why don’t we get out of here… I can get you naked and you can give me some more inspiration.”
“Mmm hm,” she sighs happily. She presses her hands on my thighs, pushing back. She sways a little on her feet, and I realize she has dark circles under her eyes.
“Did you sleep at all last night?” I ask, concern rising in me when she looks away.
“Not really,” she says sheepishly. “But I took a nap on the counter at the store. Does that count?”
“Nope. Alright, come on then,” I say. “You like Italian?” Parker nods with a sleepily looking grin. Grabbing my phone, I shoot off a quick order to my favorite place down the street before packing up my stuff. I tuck my sketchbook back in the drawer. “Look at it anytime you want. I don’t mind,” I say. “I just like having it at work.”
Parker gives me the truck keys. She’s dead on her feet and I’m already salty that she drove here that tired. I get halfway into the driver’s seat when I realize I’ll never fit. Stepping back out I laugh as I slide the seat back.
“Sorry!” Parker says with a blush. “Short legs.”
“I like your short legs,” I reply with a grin. “I just didn’t know the seat went that far forward.”
Parker waits in the truck while I run in and grab dinner from the little Italian restaurant. We pull into my driveway a couple minutes later and I make it around the front of the cab to open the door for her by the time she’s unbuckled her seat belt. She laughs, thanking me as she jumps down. I grab her bag from the back and sling it over my shoulder. The grin she gives me as I juggle everything is worth it. Honestly, that smile would be worth it even if I had to walk across a field of Legos.
We spread the food out on my small table, eating out of the Styrofoam containers. Parker moans around every bite of the chicken parmesan, and I make a mental note to order that one for her next time.
“Where did you learn to draw like that?” Parker asks as she steals a meatball from the container in front of me.
“I just kind of figured it out,” I tell her. “It was something I started doing as a kid.”
“Yeah?” Parker asks, watching and waiting for me to elaborate. I shift in my seat, debating how to explain this.
“Yeah, so you know my mom passed away and my dad left us with Gran, right?”
Parker’s eyebrows draw together as she nods sadly.
“Yeah. Some of us handled it better than others. I was way too young to understand, all I knew was my world had been turned upside down. I didn’t know how to cope, so I was just a huge pain in the ass. My gran was patient, but she forced me to go see this shrink. I wasn’t much for sharing, but one thing she asked me to do was to keep a journal. Coming up with words was too hard, so I just drew pictures of what happened around me. I did it for so long that it became a habit, and then I ended up enjoying it.”
Parker watches me with admiration in her eyes, and I’m struck by the way she gives me her full attention. Her big blue eyes never leave my face. She listens intently like she wants to catch every word of what I have to say, and it makes me talk more than I’m used to. She draws things out of me like no one else has.
“Can I ask you about something in your sketches?” Parker asks, digging her fork around in her pasta. She’s adorable when she’s shy.
“Of course.”
“There weren’t any other women. I mean, besides your family.” She blushes and keeps her eyes down like she’s dreading what I might say.
“Well, that’s less of a question and more of a statement,” I tease. “I sketch the things that feel important. You feel important.” I shrug. A heart-stopping smile spreads across Parker’s face, lighting up her eyes as a blush spreads across her cheeks.
“But you’ve dated around,” she argues.