Fine Line (Inked Duet #1) Read online

  He leans forward and the space between us disappears. I close my eyes and fist his shirt as his lips press mine with unprecedented tenderness. He kisses me once. Twice. On the third kiss, I sweep the tip of my tongue along the seam of his lips. A low groan rumbles in his chest. I tighten my grip on the cotton as he slips his fingers into my hair and opens up to let me in.

  Then I taste him again. Hot and sweet and addictive on my taste buds. The heat of his tongue tangling with mine is a shock wave throughout my body, waking all the parts once dormant. Loosening my hold, my hands trail up his chest, cup his cheeks and revel in the gruff grain against my soft palms.

  He groans at my touch, drops his hands to my hips, and draws me impossibly closer. Close enough for the bulge beneath his zipper to brush my abdomen. The temptation to invite him in multiplies tenfold seconds before he breaks the kiss.

  “You might be the death of me. But it’d be a good way to go,” he says, gasping.

  “Back atcha.”

  “As much as I don’t want to leave, I should go.”

  I fight the urge to disagree, and nod. “Yeah,” I whisper. “Will you call or text me?”

  “Better believe it.”

  I smile and peek up at him. “Good night, Jonas.”

  He sweeps a stray hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear. “Good night, Autumn.”

  As I walk back to the front door, he gets in the Jeep and starts it. We keep our eyes on each other until he backs out and drives away. For a moment, I stare at the space where I last saw his taillights. Absorb every moment of the evening, now that I am alone. Well, alone for a minute longer.

  I take a deep breath and dig for the house key in my purse. Just as I go to insert the key in the lock, the door swings open and an overzealous Penny yanks me inside.

  “I want details. Now.”

  I stumble over my own two feet as she closes the door and drags me over to the couch. “Pen.” I laugh and plop down on the middle cushion.

  “Don’t you Pen me. And don’t pretend like you weren’t just outside kissing a hot-as-fuck man. Twice.”

  Biting the inside of my cheek, I fight the smile and laughter dying to burst free. But I lose the battle.

  “Do you want a complete rundown of the evening? Cause I promise the entire date wasn’t like what you witnessed out front, Peeping Tom.”

  “Girl, you better tell me everything. Beginning to end. And don’t you dare leave a single detail out.”

  I kick off my shoes and tuck my feet beneath my butt. Penny draws her legs to her chest, rests her chin on her knees, and listens to every intricate detail about my date with Jonas. From the cutest retro diner I ever set foot in to the movie in the park where he held me close and I stopped paying attention to the screen and focused solely on his warm body curled behind mine. How his fingers splayed my belly and held me close. How I never wanted to miss a single moment of his breath on the back of my neck. She already witnessed the two separate kisses out front.

  As I tell Penny how I broke the barrier and told Jonas a little about my past, she slaps a hand over her mouth. Me explaining an ounce of my past to anyone—no matter how big or small the detail—is a huge step. Penny knows I wouldn’t tell just anyone. Which means I believe Jonas and I could become far more than just two people dating for the sake of dating.

  “Auti, I’m so happy for you.” I give her a half smile. “Seriously. It is way past time you did something for yourself. Be a little selfish for a change. Be happy. It looks good on you.”

  “Thanks, Pen.” I yawn.

  Although I have been awake much later than this countless times, the exhilaration from the evening is slowly fading and exhaustion is taking over.

  “Go.” Penny throws a thumb over her shoulder toward the hall. “Wash up and go to bed. We’ll go out for breakfast in the morning. My treat.”

  I squint at her and she shakes her head. Rising up from the couch, I snatch my shoes off the floor and kiss the crown of Penny’s head. “Thanks for always being the best. Don’t know where I’d be without you.”

  “Love you too, Auti. Sleep tight.”

  After stowing the leftovers in the fridge, I go about my normal nightly routine before bed. As I brush my teeth, I zone out and replay my evening with Jonas. Recall the buzz zapping every inch of my skin and the hum deep in my belly as he laid behind me and pressed his palm to my lower abdomen. Jonas encasing me in his arms… I never felt more at home.

  Flipping off the bathroom light, I tiptoe into the bedroom, change into my pajamas, and quietly slip between the sheets. I curl onto my side and face the opposite side of the bed. Face the angelic form beside me. Chest steadily rising and falling in the darkened room.

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Jonas’s words creep back in from earlier. And as I take in the most important person in my world, the little girl less than a foot away, I pray his words stick when I tell him.

  Twelve

  Jonas

  I lay awake in bed, eyes on the ceiling but not really seeing it. Spartan twitches and dream barks at the foot of the bed. For once, it doesn’t bother me. Nothing could right now.

  When was the last time I felt like this? Lighter. Carefree. Happy. Like the future has a million possibilities and I can’t wait to explore them all.

  Easy. I haven’t.

  Date night with Autumn was literally one of the best in my life. Hell, I spent all day yesterday smiling like a goddamn idiot. I never enjoyed doing housework so much. Never enjoyed tearing up the back yard to landscape it like I did yesterday. Spartan ran around the yard, barking incessantly at squirrels and hunting for lizards. But it didn’t irritate me as per usual.

  The alarm blares on the bedside table and I slap the snooze button to shut it up. Spartan pops his head up from the mattress and yips.

  “‘Morning, buddy.”

  He yips again. I like to call it his quiet voice. As if he knows it’s too early to use his full bark yet. Either way, it’s adorable how quiet he is until I get out of bed. Then his typical, boisterous bark commences.

  We get out of bed and ready for our morning walk. Once we step out the door, Spartan leads us down the street and along our usual morning path. Glad he can focus and lead the way because mentally I am still standing in front of Autumn’s apartment, kissing her.

  Lost in my daydream, it seems as if only a few minutes pass before we arrive back home. After filling Spartan’s bowl with kibble, I go about my morning routine. I slip on a Thompson’s Garage shirt and a pair of jeans before heading into the kitchen to make breakfast. Belly full, I slip on boots, secure Spartan in his kennel, and head out the door. A moment later, I zip through Clearwater on my bike, relishing the sharp sting of wind on my cheeks, and arrive at the garage early again.

  When I walk into the office, Dad glances up from the stack of papers in front of him to the clock and shakes his head. “You keep this up and I might start setting your schedule earlier.”

  “Ha ha, old man.” I brew a fresh pot of coffee before sifting through the invoices on my desk. “Looks like a busy day.”

  Dad doesn’t say anything for a moment and I wonder if he didn’t hear what I said. When I glance over at his desk, he stares at me with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. The type you see when people know something you don’t. I cock a brow and he shakes his head.

  “Interesting,” he says, cryptically.

  “What?” I drop my head and scan my shirt to see if my breakfast is still hanging around. Nope.

  “How was your weekend, son?”

  My weekend? Why the hell would Dad ask about my weekend. Not that we never chat about how we spend our time apart, but it isn’t an automatic Monday question. I think back and try to remember if I told him I was going on a date with Autumn.

  Think, think, think.

  No, don’t think it ever came up. Especially after his snooping while I was on the phone. He means well, has a good heart, but it suddenly feels as if I’m a teenager all over again.<
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  “Great. Why?”

  His grin widens further. “Great, huh? What’d ya do?”

  What the hell is this? Twenty questions of obscurity? Dad isn’t the type to be evasive. At least, not from past experiences. Then again, I have never openly discussed my interest in someone. Does he know what I did this weekend? I mentally shake my head. Not possible.

  “Went out. Did stuff around the house. Why?”

  “Where’d you go?”

  Okay, game over. Between him skirting around what he wants to say and the devious smile on his lips, I am about to explode from curiosity. “Why don’t you just spit it out, old man.”

  He tips his head back and laughs. A full belly laugh. Similar to the thousands I have heard over the years. He’s yanking my chain and he full well knows it. Even enjoys the slow torment with a wicked gleam in his eye.

  “Back at ya, son.” He points to my face. “Only reason I’m giving you a hard time is that.”

  “What?” I swipe my palms over my face and feel for the evidence he refers to. But I don’t find it.

  “Your permanent smile.” My cheeks heat. “Don’t be embarrassed, son. The smile suits you.” He gets up, walks to the coffee pot, and pours us each a cup. “Plus, a smile like that could be good for business.”

  “Alright.” I laugh. “That’s enough from you, old man.”

  He hands me a mug while he fishes the creamer out of the fridge. After he pours some in his coffee, he passes it my way.

  “In all seriousness, it’s really great to see you happy, son. And if a certain female car owner has anything to do with it, then I approve.”

  I pour cream in my cup then spoon in a little sugar. “Thanks, Dad. Means a lot.”

  We drink our coffee and work for the next hour in silence. But it isn’t awkward or filled with the expectation to spill more details. Although, if I keep dating Autumn—which I have every intention of doing—Dad will dig for more. And I won’t hold back.

  The Thompson family is an open family. We don’t hide anything from each other. We were all raised—Mom and Dad included—with the belief it is better to be open and honest from the get-go. Just saves from stirring up future problems.

  After I finish paperwork in the office, I head to the garage bays and start on the first clients of the day. As of now, most of the morning is filled with appointments for routine maintenance. I step up to an SUV and match the vehicle to the invoice then get started on the oil change.

  As I wipe my hands clean after finishing, my phone pings in my pocket. Pulling it out of my coveralls, I smile down at the screen. Two bays down, Dad laughs and points between my face and my phone. Yeah, yeah, old man.

  Autumn: Morning. Hope the rest of your weekend was good.

  Her text has me smiling for two reasons. One—she sent me a text. How can I not be happy over that small fact? Getting a text means the other person was thinking of you. Two—her actual text. The message is sweet, but also makes me think she had no idea what to say. She simply wanted to text me, but didn’t know how to initiate conversation. It reminds me how she said she hadn’t dated in years. She didn’t go into great detail, but someone probably didn’t treat her right.

  Jonas: Good morning. Best weekend in years.

  Autumn: Yeah. What made it so great?

  Is this Autumn subtly flirting? And why does every single word from her lips—and her fingers, I guess—make my cheeks sting? Heat me head to toe. Make my mind wander to places it never has. Places which include her in every facet.

  Jonas: Oh, you know. A night on the town with a beautiful woman. Being domestic at home.

  Autumn: Domestic, huh? *screenshots for future reference*

  And there it is again. Future reference. The term sinks deeper into my marrow every time I hear—see—it. I love how she sees us beyond a single date or moment in time. How she wants more between us, even if she doesn’t openly say it. Little indicators such as saving something I say for future reference means more to me than imaginable.

  Jonas: What can I say… My parents raised me to be self-sufficient. Want to know a secret?

  Autumn: *steeples fingers and leans in close* Dish it out already.

  I laugh as my fingers fly over the screen.

  Jonas: Mom taught me how to sew buttons when I was 5. Said every man should know how.

  Autumn: And now I’m in love with your mom.

  A small tornado swirls in my chest—flipping things upside down and causing my heart to beat violently. Don’t take it out of context. Her text is meant to be funny or cute. That she loves my mom because she taught me things the general populous deems a female activity. But Dad taught my sisters how to change their own oil and swap out a flat tire. It’s just how the Thompson family rolled. Being self-sufficient is a life skill, not a gender skill.

  Jonas: Is it too soon for me to tell her that? She might replace me with you. The third daughter she never had.

  Did that come out wrong? I reread my text and mentally wipe my brow with the back of my hand. Whew. For a second there, I thought maybe I insinuated something else. That our relationship would lead her to becoming my mother’s daughter—in a sense.

  Autumn: Aaron already knows me. Wouldn’t bother me if you told your parents we are dating.

  Dating. Not “went on a date.” I glance up and across the garage. Dad leans against a silver pickup with a knowing smile on his face as he watches me text Autumn. Time to wrap this up, otherwise Dad will tease me until the end of time.

  Jonas: Hate to cut this short. Dad’s giving me the side-eye.

  Autumn: Sorry ☹️ I’ll bring him cookies later.

  Jonas: No need to apologize. And sprinkles are his favorite.

  Autumn: Sprinkles. Check. See you in a bit?

  Jonas: I’ll be here.

  I tuck my phone back in my pocket and look over at Dad. “What’re you smiling at, old man?”

  “Ah, to be young and in love again,” he says and I stop breathing.

  Autumn is gorgeous and funny and downright lovable, but I never indicated I was in love with her. Did I? I mean, Jesus, I have only known her just shy of two weeks.

  “Dad…” I warn. But he just waves me off. “By the way, since you wouldn’t let Autumn pay for the repairs, she’s bringing you cookies later.”

  “Really?” I nod and his grin brightens. “Well, son, I approve.”

  An hour later, I hear the telltale sounds of a classic car. Rolling out from under the sedan I currently work on, I sit up and swallow at the woman walking toward the bays with a bag in her hand.

  Autumn strolls up in an off-the-shoulder, black-and-white striped top under dark denim overalls folded up to land just below the knee. Her black-brown locks are pinned up high on the back of her head while a folded bandana loops from the base of her skull up into a bow at her crown. Lips painted scarlet, as are her nails. And today she wears dark-tinted, black-framed, wingtip sunglasses.

  I swallow harder with each step she takes in my direction. This woman will be the death of me. No doubt about it. Dad steps out of the bay next to me and meets Autumn five feet away from where I still sit on the ground.

  “Hey there, sweetie. My son tells me I get cookies for being a nice guy.”

  Autumn slides her sunglasses up to rest on top of her head. “And I hear you love sprinkles.”

  Dad smiles down at me before meeting Autumn’s gaze again. “You hear correct. Honestly, haven’t met a cookie I don’t love. Sprinkles just make them fun.”

  She laughs and hands Dad the bag. “Well, I didn’t have time to bake. But there’s lots of sprinkles plus some other flavors, in case anyone else wants cookies.”

  Without asking permission, Dad leans forward and side hugs Autumn. Doesn’t seem to bother her one bit. “Very generous of you.” Dad hands me the bag and I rise from the ground. “Son, why don’t you take lunch and put these cookies in the office.”

  It’s a suggestion, and one I appreciate. “Yeah, sure.”

&n
bsp; Walking over to a shelf, I set the cookies down and slip out of my coveralls. And I don’t miss, in my periphery, the way Autumn ogles me as I disrobe. Although I am fully clothed beneath, she looks me up and down as if I stripped bare.

  “Hungry,” I croak out as I lead us into the office and set the bag of cookies on my desk.

  “Starved,” she whispers. But her response seems weighed down with so much more.

  A foot between us, I keep my arms tucked at my sides and hold her fiery, cognac gaze. “Wish I had more than an hour for lunch.”

  Autumn steps closer, leaving a breath between us. “Any amount of time is better than none at all.”

  I nod and take a deep breath. My time with her now is limited. Lunch dates are not the same as dinner and a movie and her lips pressed to mine. Lunch dates are time crunched and light conversation and hugs until next time.

  “C’mon. There’s a sub shop up the street. My treat.”

  We walk out of the office and into the lot. “Well, if you’re buying, I’m driving.”

  “I have no qualms about riding shotgun. Besides, I rode my bike to work.”

  “You own a motorcycle?” I nod as I slip inside the car and she cranks the engine. “Never been on a motorcycle before. Maybe sometime soon.”

  What is it about Autumn that lights my soul on fire? With a simple suggestion, my chest swells and my stomach ties knots faster than a sailor. Hell yes, she turns heads everywhere she goes. But her heart-shaped face and curvy body are just the tip of the iceberg. Autumn is so much more than the physical sum of her parts. All her remarks about the future, I ink them into my memory for later reference.