More Than Lies (More Than #1)(20)

I remove my keys and open the truck door, sliding out and taking a deep breath.

Home.

I don’t know what it is about this place that I love so much. Perhaps because I spent a lot of time here as a kid when I would come stay with my grandparents on the occasional weekend or holiday. This house, this city, here feels right. It’s another reason I need to get the studio on track. If I can’t, then I can’t stay working there. I take pride in what I do, and I want to work in an establishment that takes the same pride in the work their staff puts out.

It’s Wednesday night, my favorite night of the week because it’s family dinner night with my roommates. What makes it’s so special? Well, you’d know if you ever had the pleasure of eating a meal prepared by Tara. The woman can cook, and good, too.

As kids, Tara spent a lot of time at my house because her brother was always over. My mother took a liking to Tara early on from what I remember. My mom taught Tara a lot of what she knows. They have a bond over food, and I get to reap the benefits.

I used to think no one would ever surpass my mom’s cooking, but then I became roommates with Tara three years ago. I’ll never admit to that, though.

I remove my boots, kicking them off and shoving them against the wall with my foot. Then I pivot and make my way through the living room. The TV is on, playing what I’m assuming is a college football game that either Mason or Matt recorded on the DVR the previous weekend. I don’t look to see what teams are playing. Frankly, I don’t give a shit. Sports aren’t my thing. I played in middle school and high school because my friends did, but I never enjoyed it.

Mason is asleep, lying face down on the couch. A few hours ago, I finally finished the shading on his tattoo. It was about a year ago when Mason decided he wanted a tattoo. He told me he wanted something bold and powerful with an Asian theme. His mother is from Korea, so he grew up with a lot of Asian flare in his home. He’s never been to Korea, but wanted a badass tat that represented his heritage. What I designed is my best work to date.

The tattoo covers his back in its entirety and ends down his left leg. A blue-green skull sits in the center, with a wicked snake looped from the top of his right shoulder and ending on the outer side of his left thigh. The Asian theme comes into play with the vibrant colors and flowers spaced around, popping off his flesh.

It’s cool as shit, and I almost wish it was on me. This is a piece that I’m most proud of. It’s taken a little over a year to complete because of his schedule, but it turned out awesome.

Matt is passed out in the recliner next to the couch. I guess the game wasn’t that happening if they couldn’t remain awake through it.

I pass through, making my way toward the kitchen where I hear noise. As I near the entryway door, the smell of seafood penetrates my nose. I smile big. I’d know that smell anywhere.

Cioppino!

It’s my favorite meal. It’s a seafood soup of flavorful goodness.

I lean against the doorframe and take in the view in front of me. I only have seconds before she realizes I’m here. Tara’s blonde hair is pulled back into a messy bun. She’s wearing a loose black T-shirt and white shorts, standing in front of the stove. Once my eyes land on her thighs I can’t see anything else.

Shit.

You’d think I’d be used to it by now. I’ve known her practically my whole life. We grew up together. Tara is so embedded into my own family that the guest bedroom inside my parents’ home was designated hers years ago. My grandparents only use it maybe once or twice a year when visiting. Any other time it’s Tara’s, and I’m pretty certain she even has clothes and toiletries at my parents’ home the same as Shane and I do.

My mind begins to wander, and I have to force myself to stop imagining something that will never happen.

But God, the image of those beautiful legs wrapped around me is . . . Something I need to stop thinking about.

Pushing myself off the doorframe, I walk closer in her direction until I’m standing directly behind her. She doesn’t know I’m here yet, so when she steps back, stepping into me, she practically jumps out of her skin and screams.

“Freak!” She huffs a large breath of air out of her lungs as she turns to look at me. “You suck.”

“Will you say, ‘fuck’ for me, just once.” Tara rarely cusses. When she does, it’s because she is either thoroughly pissed or extremely excited. And I find it to be really cute. “Please. It’s just a four-letter word.”

She quickly turns her head, but not before I see the pink in her cheeks from the blush I’ve caused.

Success.

“Go away, I’m trying to finish dinner.”

“I know, I could smell it from the other room. It smells divine. What did I do to earn my favorite meal?”

“What makes you think I cooked this for you?” Tara points to the tall stainless steel pot on the stove before eyeing me. “It happens to be my favorite meal as well. Just as chocolate cake is my favorite dessert.” She lifts her index finger to point to the table.

Holy smokes, tonight is going to be wonderful, and I am going to fall into my bed a fat and happy man. I will definitely need to spend extra time at the gym tomorrow.

“Shit people, others are trying to sleep in this place.” We turn to see Matt walking into the kitchen. He goes directly to the refrigerator and pulls out a clear bottle of golden beer.