Page 37 of Playboy’s Purgatory

“I don’t think I want you to touch me,” I open my mouth and then snap it closed when she adds, “even in a professional capacity.”

I have to swallow hard. That fucking hurts. But it’s not like I don’t understand. I do. Trust is required when it comes to getting a tattoo. I’ve squandered whatever trust Lara might have had in me.

“I get it,” I keep my voice level, hiding my disappointment.

I run my fingers through my hair as my mind whirls, trying to latch onto something. Some suggestion. Some idea.

I’ve got nothing.

The mood around the table is completely different now. As much as I want to get up and run away, I force myself to stay and endure it. I started it, and I’m damn well going to finish it.

“The offer stands,” my voice is serious. “If you’re interested, you can come in any time and take a look at the space and my work. You might be inspired or find something you like in my book.”

I hate the way the words start to rush out of me, but I can’t help it. I’m desperate to get on her good side. I’m not even sure why it matters so much, but it does.

She doesn’t say yes.

She doesn’t say no either.

The feeling of being in purgatory is unsettling. But there’s nothing I can do about it right now. I can’t force her to say yes to my offer.

Even if I wish I could.

The end of the meal is awkward, and the moment Lara reaches for her purse, I’m already pulling my wallet out. I lay more than enough on the table for our meals and a good tip for Honey without looking at Lara.

I can feel her glare; why look at the woman?

“I’m paying for our food,” she insists while motioning between herself and Vanessa.

“I shoved into your booth,” I point out innocently, “that means I pay.”

She rolls her eyes, but she lets the argument end there. Thankfully. I’d rather not haul her out of the diner by throwing her over my shoulder. I’ll do it, if it comes down to it, but I know it’ll set me back.

How much, I’m not sure, but I’m not willing to find out. Not yet at least.

When I slide out of the booth, Lara is quick to stand up and get Vanessa moving. The woman practically power walks through the door.

It’s a damn good thing that I’m quick because I manage to keep up. I even hide my smile when people call out to her, and she barely conceals her frustration.

I’m curious about what frustrates her more—people holding her up when she’s trying to make her escape, or the fact that every person calling out is a person who saw us together.

That kind of news won’t stay quiet for long. I bet it’s already in at least one family’s group chat.

“It was nice eating with you, Playboy,” Vanessa says as I hold the door open on our way out.

I can’t quite stop the wince this time from hearing Vanessa say my road name. As we step outside, the sky is painted with colors created to remind us why daytime must turn to nighttime. It’s still warm, but the weather will be turning soon.

Change is in the air. I take a deep breath and reach for a little courage.

“My name is Jettson,” my words are a gentle rasp. “I’d like it if you would use it instead of my road name.” I swallow hard and keep my eyes on Vanessa before looking up at Lara.

The way Lara presses her lips together tells me she won’t be making the change anytime soon. That’s okay; I’ll chip away at her resolve.

When we get to where Lara’s parked, Vanessa is quick to open the door. She looks back at me and waves. “Bye, Jettson.”

My hand presses against my chest, right where my heart is, without me even realizing it. I don’t know what this feeling is, but I know it’s worth earning again and again.

Lara looks at me for a long time. I think she might say something, but then she simply shakes her head. “Thanks for dinner,” she throws the words out and I know they’re more for the sake of manners and basic respect than sincerity.