7. Marko

Chapter 7

Marko

M y phone chimes and I consider ignoring it, but I set the paintbrush down and reach for it. It’s rather late and it could be baka . Better to just check instead of worry.

Heath: Hey. I’m wide awake and need something to watch. What do you suggest?

My lips twitch and I wonder if this is his way of flirting. His text messages always seem to be so random, and this is yet another one. It’s so Heath.

Marko: If you need to fall asleep, you can watch paint dry.

I snap a photo of the watercolour I’m working on and send it. Normally, I don’t share my paintings, but this time, I didn’t give it a second thought.

Heath: Wait…is this what you’re doing right now? You paint?

Marko: I do. I sketch, paint, and tattoo people. A true artist, lol. This is watercolour, so it’s mostly dry already, but I thought you’d like it.

Heath doesn’t respond for a while and the little bubbles keep popping up and disappearing. I chew at my thumb while I wait, hoping it’s a message of approval, because his approval means more than it should right now.

Heath: Sorry. I didn’t know what watercolour was and had to google it. I’m extra impressed. You’re really good at this stuff. Did you design your tattoos like this?

My lips curve in the biggest grin with his words, and I lean back to type my reply.

Marko: Most of my tattoos are my designs, yes. I usually sketch them on a pad first. Sometimes I colour them in. Sometimes I just trace them to my skin to see if I like it before making it permanent.

Heath: What’s your favourite tattoo?

I smile at the question, because it’s an easy one, and pull up my sleeve to snap a pic of one on the inside of my biceps. It’s a dragon on a motorcycle. The dragon’s tail wraps around my arm and twines with a few of the surrounding tattoos, but it’s the dragon and the bike that are close to my heart. Once I press send, it takes a while for it to register as sent and I clean up my paint while I wait for his reply.

Finally, the bubbles dance and I hold my breath while I wait for his opinion.

Heath: Holy shit! I can see why it’s your favourite. That’s amazing. I love all your tattoos. Seriously.

I huff a small laugh when he sends a string of hearts and fire emojis. My chest warms knowing that he appreciates something my father hates. And I stare at the emojis for a long time before replying.

Marko: Thank you. That means a lot. Do you have any ink?

Heath: Not yet. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. More since I met you.

Marko: Oh?

My heart races. Is he thinking of me more, too?

Heath: Is that weird?

Is it? I have tattoos everywhere he can see... and some in places he can’t. I’m a tattoo artist and it always comes up in conversation. People usually start asking about them once they’re comfortable. It doesn’t seem weird to me, but maybe it’s something he’s never thought of.

Marko: No. I don’t think so. Especially when you admire the art.

Heath: Yeah. I just like it. It’s like…idk. I want something special when I get one and I’m nervous, you know? I want to look as good as you .

My hand shakes as I reread his message. I’ve never been good at reading people. And texting makes it worse. Is he complimenting the ink, or does he really think I look good? No wonder I’m single. It has nothing to do with hiding and more to do with the fact that I can’t decipher flirty messages.

Marko: Lots of people are nervous their first time. If you trust me, I’ll walk you through it.

The message sits as sent for a long time and I keep tidying up my paints while thinking about tomorrow. I’ve never toured a garden and had a picnic with a date before. It’s not something I’d ever even consider, but now that he’s talked about art and I’ve shown him my painting, I’m looking even more forward to it. It may spur some ideas for new designs.

Or I might get homesick.

Either way, it’s time spent with Heath and I’m excited about it.

Heath: I trust you. I’ll pick you up at 9 A.M. That way we can grab coffee first.

I laugh at his message because he thinks I live at the studio. While I spend a lot of time there, I rent the apartment above the shop out.

Marko: Would you like my address? The shop is where I work. I have a tenant upstairs. Unless you’d rather meet there.

Heath: Ugh, I’m an idiot. But I want to pick you up so, yes, address, please.

He wants to pick me up!

Marko: Not an idiot. Don’t say that.

I rattle off my address with a yawn and head to brush my teeth, even more excited about this thing Heath planned.

Marko: If you’re okay, I’m going to sleep now. I’m looking forward to tomorrow. Text me when you leave.

Heath: Me too! I will. Thanks for chatting. This was better than watching some dumb show. Good night.

Maybe I’m allowing myself to be hopeful, but I really like Heath, and I think we connect. He’s such a sweetheart and Curtis was right about me being into him. I’m just not sure where Heath stands. He likes me. I know that, but whether it goes beyond a friendly like is where I’m uncertain.

Whatever happens tomorrow will be great. I’m going to spend the day with a gorgeous man surrounded by gardens that remind me of a happier time in my life.

Things are changing.

And I like it.

***

Tires crunching on gravel and the rattle of a broken muffler enter my yard at exactly 8:57 A.M.

I’ve been awake for hours, eager to get the day started, but I’m not prepared for the deathtrap he calls a car. Standing in the doorway, I watch as he chugs to a park in the driveway. The tired Honda shudders and backfires and I wince. He shouldn’t be driving this.

Heath opens the door with a wave and a cloud of butterflies takes flight in my gut as he steps out. No, they don’t just take flight. They’re performing aerial maneuvers that should be their own air show. Wearing a white T-shirt and faded jeans with a pair of scuffed-up cowboy boots, he’s not exactly dressed for a walk through a garden, but I’m not complaining.

And that dang ball cap with his curls sticking out sits on his head. Literally one of my teenage wet dreams just came to life.

“Hi!”

He trots up to me with a beaming smile and holds out his hand in greeting. Smiling because he remembered how I first greeted him, I take it and step up. “ Bok .” Pressing a kiss to each cheek, I succeed in not burying my face in the crook of his neck and breathing all his Heathness in.

“That’s a new word. Oh! I almost forgot!”

He returns to his rust bucket car and I enjoy the view of denim stretched over his ass as he reaches inside the car for something. He emerges with two takeout cups and sets them on the ground before using both hands to gently lift and close the car door at the same time.

“I stopped at the Screaming Bean.” He passes me a cup and the aroma of vanilla hits me.

“How did you know I like the vanilla bean latte?”

“I asked what the tattoo guy always gets.” He flashes a bright smile and fuck me if I don’t feel my neck turn hot .

“Thank you. It's one of my favourites." I take a small sip before stepping aside to allow him in. "Come on in. We can drink before we go.”

Heath steps inside my small house with a whistle. “Marko…this place is amazing. Do you own it?”

“It has a mortgage, but yeah, it’s mine.”

Now standing in his sock feet, he’s peering up at the cathedral ceiling of my living room with his mouth agape.

“Would you like a tour?”

“Well, if you don’t mind. It’s gorgeous. I’ve never been down this road before. How did you find this place?”

Talking while I lead him to the back of the house, I explain. “As an artist, I knew I wanted some property. Being outside inspires me. It didn’t need to be huge since it’s just me. The only thing it lacks is a garage. I might build one in a few years, but for now, I store my other bike in the shed at the shop.”

My small house is one of my favourite things, and when we pause in the sunroom off the back, Heath simply stares. Most of my art supplies are here, and the easel with the painting from last night is still on display. The room looks out into the backyard, which is fenced and has a man-made pond in the center. The previous owners had plans to landscape, but abandoned them when they fell ill and needed to sell.

“This is amazing. A pond! Wow. You should get ducks.”

I laugh as he says it so casually, as though I could just walk into a store for them. Can you? I’ve never thought about buying ducks before, so I don’t know how one would even acquire a duck.

“I don’t know how to care for ducks, but thanks for the suggestion. ”

“I’d teach you. I love ducks and their little smacking feet. So cute.”

Heath makes a sound that I assume is duck feet and his lopsided grin forces me to look away.

“Come on.” I shake my head with a small laugh. Honestly, I just can’t get over his cuteness. “I’ll show you the rest. It’s not big.”

There’s a hallway on either side of the sunroom. One leads to the spare bedroom, which is mainly full of stuff I haven’t unpacked, and the other leads to my bedroom and the bathroom.

Heath pauses at the door to my bedroom before taking a single step inside and stepping back. He whistles again in the bathroom when he notices the large soaker tub.

“I didn’t take you for a bubble bath kind of guy.”

Throwing my head back, I laugh as he grins and sips his coffee. “I haven’t used the thing since I moved here. Maybe I should.”

“I can see you in there, suds up to your chest while you lounge like a prince.”

Is he flirting? Does he actually think of me naked in a tub? Should I ignore that? Ugh, why is it so hard to figure this guy out!?

“I’m no prince.” My voice is hoarse and Heath freezes for a moment. Licking his lips, his gaze darts to the door and I clear my throat. “Let’s go back to the main room.”

Because I don’t want to stand here and imagine you naked in my bathtub with me. Nope. That’s not happening.

“So that’s it. Nothing fancy, but I love it.”

We sit on my worn sofa and finish our coffees while Heath describes his plans for us. His voice takes on this excited lilt when he tells me about the garden grounds, then it switches to an almost reverent tone as he speaks of his friends who own it. Heath talks with his hands, almost spilling his coffee several times. Finally, he shoots up off the couch and claps his hands.

“So, ready to get going?”

I could listen to him talk all day and be happy, but he’s vibrating to go. He hops from foot to foot and while I share in his eagerness, there’s a question I need to ask.

“Um…yes, but…do you mind if I drive?”

Heath smiles again and tosses me his keys. “Not at all. Don’t enjoy being a passenger?”

Grabbing the keys out of the air, I inwardly smile at this key chain. It’s one of those tiny clear squares you can personalize with a photo and it’s a selfie of him and Jeff.

“Not really, but I meant if you would mind if we took my bike.”

His eyes widen. “Like a motorcycle?” His voice is breathless, and I puff a little that he seems so enamored with the idea of my bike.

“Yeah. Have you been on one?”

“No. Is it…like what do I do?”

“You hang on and enjoy the ride.”

He scrunches his brows. “I won’t fall off?”

“I’d never let you fall. I promise.”

Heath puffs out a breath before nodding. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Oof. His agreement to ride with me shouldn’t set my pulse racing like it is.

“You’ll love it. I promise.”

Leading him outside, I hand him my spare helmet. It’s red and glittery and totally badass, but he raises an eyebrow. “A glittery helmet for the tattoo guy? I was expecting skulls or something.” He takes off his ball cap and looks at me. “What about my hat? ”

I take it and place it in the saddlebag where I’ve already stored my sketch pad and pencils. After giving him a rundown of how to hang on and what to do and not to do, he confirms he understands. Throwing my leg over the bike, I bring it to life and the rumble beneath me settles my nerves. I’m always at ease when I ride. Even with a man I’m crushing on as my passenger.

Heath’s hand on my shoulder as he mounts the bike has me inhaling a sharp breath that—thankfully—he can’t hear over the motor.

“Ready?” I shout as I turn my head.

He gives me a thumbs up and I slide my visor down before accelerating out of the driveway. Heath immediately wraps his arms around my waist to hang on.

It’s a rush like I’ve never experienced before. Probably because I’ve never been attracted to my passenger as much as I am to Heath. My pulse races and heat floods my body. He feels like he's supposed to be there.

When we finally reach the highway and I gear up to go faster, Heath’s arms tighten around me and I already know I don’t want the ride to end.