“You okay?” Preacher’s gaze was unreadable.
“Yes. I’m sorry.” Her skin tingled from that brief contact and, good God, were her nipples getting hard again? What was wrong with her?
Preacher touched her again, and this time she held still with sheer willpower alone. “This spot work for you?”
She nodded and watched as Preacher bent over her arm. His warm breath kissed over her skin as he sketched onto her arm. Meaningless lines and curves took shape with a few skilled strokes of his pen. In five minutes, she had a small and perfect rose etched across her pale skin.
“Oh my gosh,” she breathed as Preacher straightened and capped the pen.
“It’s so pretty.” Isabelle’s voice, usually cranked to ten on the volume scale, was hushed and full of wonder. “I like it, Mr. Preacher.”
“Thank you. Ms. Moore? What do you think?”
Was that apprehension in his voice? Was he honestly worried about what she thought of the temporary tattoo he’d drawn on her on a whim?
She glanced at the rose before smiling up at him. “It’s the most beautiful rose I’ve ever seen. Thank you.”
The line between his brows smoothed out. “You’re welcome.” His voice was gruff, but she was pretty sure she saw a pleased look on his face before he turned away.
The final bell rang, and the kids scattered like seeds. They ran to the back of the room to gather their backpacks and put on their jackets. Addison followed them. “What do you say to Mr. Preacher?”
“Thank you, Mr. Preacher,” the children hollered in unison.
“Let’s give him a round of applause for doing such a great job at teaching us about being a tattoo artist,” Addison said.
The kids clapped their hands and stomped their feet before gathering up their stuff. Addison zipped up jackets, tied shoelaces, helped little hands tighten backpack straps, and stuffed nearly forgotten lunchboxes into backpacks.
When the last of the kids had trickled out of her classroom, she was surprised to see Preacher still in the room. He packed up the last of his equipment into the tackle box and closed it, latching it shut as she closed down her laptop and retrieved her purse and cell phone from the bottom drawer of her desk.
She joined Preacher at the table. “Thank you so much, Mr. Preacher. The kids really enjoyed hearing you speak today.”
“It’s just Preacher,” he said.
She flushed. “Right, of course. Well, thank you again. You were really good with them.”
He made a sound of disbelief, and she said, “I mean that. You were a natural. Kids can tell when people are being phony around them, and they don’t respond like they did to you if they think you’re being fake. You did an amazing job describing what you do and answering their questions.”
He leaned one hip against the desk. “You always like this?”
“Like what?”
“Little Miss Sunshine.”
“Well, I… I believe that having a positive attitude is the key to a good life,” she said.
“Right.” He looked her up and down, his gaze lingering on the pearls around her neck before studying the flush that had risen in her cheeks. “See you around, Sunshine.”
He picked up his tackle box and headed toward the door, stopping when Grace stepped into the classroom. “Preacher, hey, what are you… oh right, career day.”
“Hey, Grace.” Preacher nodded to her and left the classroom.
Addison sucked in a deep breath and smiled at Grace. “Hi. What are you doing here?”
“Just wondered if you wanted to have an early dinner before we head over to the ball diamond. Harrison’s playing tonight, right?”
“He is. I’d love to have dinner. Is Kira meeting us at the restaurant?”
Grace smoothed her hand over her curly hair. “Uh, actually, I thought maybe just the two of us could have dinner together.”
“Sure,” Addison said. “Let’s do this.”
Chapter Five
Grace poked at the food on her plate. She’d asked Addison to dinner so she could clear up what she’d seen between her and Gideon, but she couldn’t figure out a way to casually bring up the subject.
“Hey, Grace?” Addison said. “You okay?”
“Yeah. How did career day go?”
“Good,” Addison said. “Gideon and Preacher were the most popular.”
“Not surprising.” Grace studied the rose on Addison’s forearm. “What’s that?”
“Oh, um, the kids wanted Preacher to tattoo me, so he drew it on with a non-permanent pen.”
“It’s pretty,” Grace said. “You ever think about getting one for real?”
Addison laughed. “Harrison would have a fit if I came home with a tattoo. He says only women looking for attention and women with daddy issues get tattoos.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “Sometimes I think Harrison is stuck in the 1950s.”
“You know how Harrison is.” Addie ate a forkful of rice. “He has old-fashioned ideas sometimes. How are you sleeping, by the way? You look a lot better.”
“Actually, it is better.” Grace could hear the guilt in her voice. Which was stupid, because did she really need to feel guilty that on Sunday night, after lying awake in her bed for nearly four hours, she had grabbed Gideon’s shirt from the laundry basket and slipped into it?
She fell asleep only ten minutes later and while she knew it was silly and superstitious to think that wearing Gideon’s shirt kept the insomnia monster at bay, it hadn’t stopped her from wearing it to bed Monday night or Tuesday night. Nor would it stop her from doing the same thing tonight.
If stealing Gideon’s shirt and wearing it to bed every night helped her sleep… she was never giving his damn shirt back. She’d lie and tell him she didn’t have his shirt if she had to.
“That’s great. I’m so glad you’re sleeping again.”
“Me too. So, did you get that mix up with the caterer sorted out?”
Addison set down her fork. “Honey, did you invite me to dinner to talk about wedding stuff, or did you invite me to dinner to talk about what I saw in Gideon’s hallway on Sunday?”
Grace drank some water to ease her suddenly dry throat. “What you saw wasn’t, I mean… it wasn’t anything.”
“Oh yeah? Because it looked like Gideon was about to kiss you.”
Grace pushed at her pasta with her fork. Addison leaned over the table. “I didn’t know you and Gideon liked each other.”
“He doesn’t – we don’t, I mean…”
“Honey.” Addison’s voice was full of warmth and understanding, “I know what I saw.”
“Shit.” Grace dropped her fork and threw her napkin over her plate. “There’s an attraction but we can’t act on it.”
“Why not?”
“A lot of reasons.”
“Tell me,” Addison said.
Grace hesitated and Addie held out her pinky. “This is just between you and me, Gracie. I promise. Pinky swear.”
Grace hooked Addison’s pinky with her own. “Pinky swear.”