Truth in Watercolors (Truth Series Book 2) (18 page)

“Why’d you even ask?” He chuckled as he closed the bottom drawer of his desk.

The boys and I worked on the mural for around three hours this morning before Ridge’s mom came to pick them up. Thankfully, Jordan seemed to have worked to let go of some of what was holding him back and worked diligently for the rest of our time together. Still, I was shaken by what had occurred, mostly because of what he had revealed.

“Did you hear about Jordan’s brother?” I asked August. I knew he was close with Jordan from when he ran the sports classes in the gym.

“Yeah.” August huffed out and kicked back into his chair. “His mom called this morning to let me know. She said he was taking it really hard. I wanted to catch him before he left today, but I just missed him. How was he?” He sat forward and propped his elbows on his desk.

“Awful,” I said. August winced, his eyes closed. “But, I think painting helped. I mean, I talked with him a little, but after he started working on the mural, he really seemed to settle.”

“Good, good.” August nodded. “Thanks for being there for him. I worry about him, and I’m glad he had you there. You have the biggest heart, sis. He needed that today.” I smiled softly, taking my brother’s compliment.

“He did need that but not so much me being there as he needed his art to be there for him.” I clasped my hands together in my lap and fiddled with my fingers. “I was thinking,” I said, feeling ridiculously nervous about bringing up my idea to August. “After seeing how therapeutic painting was for Jordan, I think you should consider incorporating an art program here. Something they can do to both express their creativity and to escape.” I pushed myself back into my chair, letting space ease my vulnerability.

August scrunched his face at me. “That’s a great idea, Capri.” He brought his arms out to his side. “We haven’t had the need for an art program yet, but it’s something to look into. I’ll check out what kind of funding is it out there for one,” he smiled at me.

“So, uh, speaking of the mural and all.” August leaned in toward me. “Whatsa or how’s…” He stumbled over his words, and I swayed a bit in my chair. My brother was a well-spoken guy, so his stumbling had me a little uneasy. “What the hell is going on with you and Wes?”

My back fell back into the chair. I should have expected he would ask at some point, but I wasn’t ready to be asked what was going on with us because, crap, I didn’t even know what was going on between us. I shrugged my shoulders and scrunched my nose.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” August said.

“I don’t know, August.” I shrugged again.

“Well, obviously you two are in the business of making out on your brother’s doorstep.” He gestured toward me.

“August!” I shrieked, feeling the explosion of color tint my face. “You watched?”

“Of course, I watched, Capri. My best friend flew into my house on a mission to see my baby sister. Then you chased after him all flustered, and Kensie immediately started grumbling about owing Lennon fifty bucks.”
Oh, my crap.

“They bet on us?” I fell forward, thumping my forehead onto his desk.

“Seems that way.” August chuckled at my humiliation.
Ugh
.

“Look,” I said, lifting my head just enough to see August. “We’ve been spending a lot of time together, and we’ve gotten a little closer than we were before.” I let my head fall back down. This was so embarrassing.

“Clearly.” August laughed. “Capri, I don’t mean to embarrass you,” he said, and I looked up again pointing to the heat on my face. He smiled. “I just want to make sure you’re good. That he isn’t, you know, being Wes.” He raised his eyebrows at me expectantly.

“He is being Wes, August. He’s more himself with me than he’s ever been,” I said softly. August’s eyebrows fell along with the shadow of a smile.

“Oh.” He tilted his head and squinted at me. “Be careful okay, Capri? You’re my sister, and he’s my best friend. Just be careful.”

I nodded. “I am, August.”

“C
rap,” I mumbled, jiggling my bag. I threw my hand in and tossed it around, searching for the keys. I closed my eyes as I felt around. I didn’t know why. I was sure I would have recognized the feel of my Sephora lip-gloss, my pocket sketchbook, and the bag of Skittles with my eyes open, but my desperation had my eyes squeezed tight begging for the feel of cold metal against my fingertips. They had to be in here.
Wait. Is that?

The deep rumble got closer, followed by the turn of the world’s shiniest Chevy into the parking lot. I dropped my arms to my side, and my bag sloshed against my legs with the strap still gripped in one hand. I think my mouth fell open, judging from the coolness and sudden absorption of all saliva.

The car approached me in a slow, steady roll, sauntering up to the curb where I stood. Wes grinned at me with his decorated arm propped out of the window, sunglasses on, and fedora pulled down over his forehead. “Hop in, Capri. We’ve got errands to run.” He tossed his head to the passenger door, and I scurried over. When Weston Monroe rolled up radiating sex, a girl followed.

I flopped into the seat and pulled my bag in over the doorsill, leaving it in a heap on the floor. Sitting back on the leather seat, I let out a huff.

“Rough morning?” Wes asked, handing me a cup of coffee. I finished buckling my seatbelt and took it from him eagerly.

“Thank you,” I said bringing the cup in for an anticipated long, soulful sip. I had my attention directed elsewhere, though. Specifically on the curl of Wes’ long and slightly tatted fingers on the steering wheel. I admired a second too long and missed my mouth entirely, pouring the hot liquid all over my white tee. “Crap, crap, crappity, crap.” I dove for my bag, pulling out a wad of napkins, and started dabbing. “First, I lose my keys, and now, I’ve spilled my coffee. What’s next?” I grumbled to myself ignoring Wes’ sniggering. I stuffed the napkins back into my purse and sat up sharply. “What? What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, I’m sorry. Did you want me to take you home so you can change?” His laughing subsided, and his hand went back to my knee with a gentle tickle of his fingers.

“No.” I softened. “It’s not a big deal.” I sighed. “Where are we going today anyway?”

“We need to get some more supplies to finish up the mural, but I have to run by Blue’s first if that’s okay?” His eyebrows pulled in when he peered over at me.

“Of course.” I smiled and leaned back into my seat. “Where does he live?”

“In the trailer park off Balboa,” he said looking away from me. “It’s okay if you aren’t comfortable going. I can go by later.” He rushed out the last part.

“Why wouldn’t I be comfortable with going to Blue’s? It’s fine, Wes. Really.” It was my turn now to reach over and squeeze his knee.

“It’s not the best area. I promise you, though; you are completely safe with me. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Wes grabbed my hand in his and held it tightly.

“I know you will.” I nodded and squeezed his hand in return. “And I’m not worried. Let’s go visit Blue.” I ended with a grin looking forward to seeing his boss again.

Wes smiled back, but it wasn’t his usual full-scale grin. This one was soft, touching just the tips of his eyes and leaving a thoughtful shadow cast over them. Then he blinked, and they popped back open with their usual sparkle. “Gas first.”

While Wes was inside to pay to pump, I pulled my bag onto my lap to see if I could find my stain remover. I always carried it with me, seeing as I almost always exclusively wore white. When I couldn’t find it, I tossed the bag back onto the ground and reached for my coffee. This time, something caught my attention.

I held up the cup and read the writing scratched down the side.

Good morning. Can I kiss you?

A flash of a squeal escaped me. I whipped my head around quickly to make sure no one had heard. Then I dove back into my purse hunting for mints because, hell yeah, he could kiss me, and no way did I want coffee breath.

Wes opened his door just as I sat up. My mouth fell open and I covered my hands with it. “What are you wearing?” I muffled through them with puffs of a laugh.

“A shirt. Here’s yours.” He tossed me a white T-shirt. I unfolded it and read:
I’m with sexy.
Then I raised my eyebrows at him grinning like an idiot.

“I’m sexy,” he said pointing his thumbs toward his shirt that read exactly that.

“What are these for?” I asked having a hard time controlling my laughter.

“I wanted to get you a new shirt to wear. I saw these by the souvenir cups. Perfect, right?” He lifted one shoulder and half grinned at me.

“Perfect,” I said unbuckling my seat belt.

“Yeah?” he asked eyeing my motions.

“Yeah,” I whispered crawling out of my seat and into his lap. I straddled my legs on either side of him and grabbed his face in my hands, landing my lips right onto his.

He grabbed on to my hips immediately and pulled my body into his while deepening our kiss. It was fast, and it was hard, and it was over just as quickly as it started.

I forced myself to push away and climbed back into my seat. Wes sat slack-jawed and hands still up where my hips just were, reflexively squeezing his fingers. “Where’d you go?”

“Let’s go see Blue,” I said breathless half cursing myself for pulling away but applauding myself for it, too.

Wes’ head swung in my direction. “That wasn’t nice, Capri.”

I grinned and sat up in the seat. “Oh, it was nice. Very, very nice.”

“You’re evil,” he said turning the key in the ignition.

“And you’re really sweet.” I ripped my shirt off and tossed it behind me.

“What the?” Wes’ head darted back and forth between my laced covered chest and the windshield. “What are you doing?” His words were panicked.

“Putting my new shirt on.” I slipped the other shirt on over my head and tugged on the hem to pull it down.

“What has gotten into you, woman?” Wes bellowed.

“You.” I blew him a kiss.

“Oh no, C.” He moved the stick shift into drive and leered lazily at me.

“You’ll know when I’ve gotten into you.”

Well, crap. There went my upper hand.

“This is the place.” Wes held open my door.

“It’s very… Blue.” I took in the small single-wide trailer with a Harley parked in the grass. The carport housed an old rusted truck and a wall of well, junk? There was nothing fancy decorating the outside. No flowers or flagpoles, but the lawn was mowed, and the entryway was clear of any clutter.

“It is.” Wes took my hand in his and led me toward the front door. “You should see the inside. It hasn’t changed at all since I met him fourteen years ago, a lot like Blue’s hairstyle.”

“Weston? That you?” Wes’ steps stalled. He turned stiffly, and I swore I heard him curse under his breath.

“It’s me,” he said flatly.

A woman, who looked to be in her mid-sixties, walked up to us. She had on a worn T-shirt with a pair of sweatpants and bare feet. Her hair was shoulder length and under-colored, same as her skin. Something about her seemed familiar to me though I couldn’t tell what. That feeling grew with each step she took toward us, the memory of her seeping in.

“How ya doing, boy?” she asked, and with that one word.
Boy
. I remembered exactly who she was.