More Than Lies (More Than #1)(31)

“Can I talk to you?”

He stands up from wiping his chair down and tosses the used paper towel into the trash bin a few feet away from us.

“Sure, what’s up, Tara?” He looks down at me.

I place my hands in my back pockets and rock on my heels. I haven’t the slightest idea how to start out this conversation.

“If it’s that damn serious, maybe you need to take a seat.” He gestures to the chair he finished cleaning moments ago. He has a good point. Maybe sitting will calm my nerves. I don’t even know why I’m so itchy. Nothing is probably going on, anyway. It’s all probably in my head. I’ve never run a business. I’m probably way off here.

I go ahead, taking the seat he’s offered.

“You’re never here this late, so what’s going on, Tara?” he prompts, looking concerned. Shawn’s arms fall to his side as he awaits my reply.

“Um,” I pause. Where do I begin? “I don’t know. It’s probably nothing; it’s just things aren’t adding up.” I stop talking. One, I’m rambling and not making sense. Two, my voice was increasing with every word out. That happens when I get nervous and jumpy. I look around to see if Kenny heard me. He looks up, but doesn’t look curious.

“You don’t want Kenny to hear us?” Shawn looks from Kenny, back to me. I nod my head. “Lie back in the chair and unbutton your pants.” He turns away from me.

“Excuse me?”

Seconds later he’s standing next to me holding what I know is transfer paper with a design. I can’t see what’s on it.

I look up at Shawn, confused. Did he tell me to take off my clothes?

“You don’t want anyone to hear us talking so I’m going to act as though I’m positioning a design on your hip bone.”

“Why my hip?” This isn’t making any sense.

“Do you want me to listen or not?” His eyebrows furrow.

“Fine.” I lay back and pop the button on my jeans. The self-conscious feeling I tend to get when I’m around him starts to set in the moment my jeans and panties lower to reveal the skin surrounding my hipbone. It’s not like he can see anything substantial. All of my girly parts are still covered, and Shawn’s seen more of my flesh when I’m in a bathing suit than in this moment. Still, there has never been a more intimate moment between us than right now. I don’t know what to do. How am I supposed to talk while lying in this position?

All I can think about is him looking at the pudginess of my stomach. I’m pretty sure I have a stretch mark or two from my weight fluctuation.

Shit. How did I even get in this predicament?

“Now would be the time to start talking, Tara.”

Shawn lays the paper against my skin, rubbing his hand thoroughly over me to make sure the marks take to my skin. His hands feel amazing, even if it’s not full contact and there is a thin sheet of paper between us.

Shoot, my breathing starts to accelerate.

Calming breaths are what I need.

“Today, Tara, I’m not getting any younger.” He isn’t looking at me so I doubt he can see the way my cheeks have started to heat. I take a slow deep breath and exhale even slower.

“It’s about Adam. Well, the studio, actually.” That causes him to pause his hand on me to look up. His palm remains flat against my body as his brown eyes penetrate mine.

“What do you mean?” He’s curious and looking at me intently.

I’m starting to calm. As I do, I’m able to relax further back into the cushioned seat.

“Over the last few weeks I’ve noticed things.”

“What things?” If he would give me a chance, I’d tell him without him having to ask. Shawn’s impatient when you pique his interest. Actually, the only time Shawn isn’t impatient is when he’s working. It’s an appealing thing to watch. Shawn is totally and completely calm and in his own world when he’s hunched over someone with a tattoo machine firmly clutched in his hand.

I don’t know if you can compare the two, but his mom is the same way when she’s in her element. Pamela Braden is a pediatrician. She was my doctor up until I graduated high school and technically became an adult at the age of eighteen. Both of Shawn’s parents are doctors. Mr. Bill is a Cardiologist and works at the largest medical facility in north Mississippi.

“Adam’s finances with the business,” I tell him. I chew on the side of my lip as I look for the right words. I’m no expert here. I’m doubling in majors at Ole Miss; one in English and the other in Accounting. My dad’s doing, of course, because one major wasn’t enough to please him. “I’ve always handled just the payroll side of things.” I don’t know why I’m starting out this way, but I feel the need to explain in details.

“I know this already, Tara. You’ve been doing it for two years now.”

“Yeah, but when Adam got me to start paying the bills and ordering stuff he gave me—” I’m not able to finish because Shawn cut me off.

“He what?” He’s looking at me a little dumbfounded when his eyebrows close together forming a tight crease in the center. “So he has you doing his job now? What else does he have you doing?”

“Besides payroll, I pay all of the incoming invoices and order everyone’s supplies.” I bite the inside of my mouth behind my lips. If this is pissing him off, what I tell him next may flip his lid. “He also asked me to interview a piercer he has coming in next Friday.”