Taivon: Book Three of the Cantrell Brothers Series

Chapter Twenty-Three

Alix still couldn't believe she was doing this. Painting Taivon's house, after picking out the colors? It definitely wasn't something she'd been expecting. He seemed so uniform, so exact in the things he did. To have her pick out the colors and tell her to just go at the side of the house with a bucket of paint and see what happens was so...strange.

She liked it. He was so much more open about things. So if painting his house made them “bond” more, then she'd gladly do it. And if she had to wear his shirt that smelled just like him, Alix figured it could be worse.

Putting the putty knife down, she got the primer and painted over where the wood was exposed. He was doing the same just a few feet away from her, scraping off damaged areas and then painting them over with white primer.

A baseball hat covered his head and shielded his face from hers. It was okay; Alix knew just how his face would look. His eyes would be a little narrowed, and he'd be chomping down on his bottom lip with his top teeth. A look of stern concentration.

“When do ya think it's gonna be dry?” she asked and stepped down from the ladder.

He didn't look up from where he was kneeling. “Thirty-ish minutes. The other side of the house should be done drying by now, so we can start painting when we're done here.”

“Don't we have to put on another coat?”

“Not if I wanna get this done by today.”

Alix played with the brush. “Why today?”

“I don't know. I guess, I just looked at the house and didn't really like it, so now I wanna change it.” He looked up at her, but she could barely see his eyes because of the baseball cap. “I know, it sounds stupid, but I really just want it to be...different. You don't have to help if you don't want.”

“No,” she said and walked over to him. “I do. I just don't want you to look back on this and regret the colors I picked out. 'Cause let's be honest, I picked out some pretty funky colors.”

“I like 'em. They're nice and bright.” He mumbled, “Hate gray. Gray's so boring. Like, why would anybody ever want to pick gray? It's not fun. It makes me wanna fall asleep. Doesn't it make you wanna fall asleep? I can't be the only one here.”

So much more talking. Alix relished in the fact that he was actually rambling. He'd been doing it a lot lately, spewing off all sorts of opinions or jokes or facts or just about anything. She liked it when he got like this.

“It is pretty dull,” she said, moments later. “I mean, it's not something I would pick for a living room, especially, but you seem to kinda be one of those people.”

“Am not. I like colors.”

“I'm not saying you don't like colors or that you're boring or anything. Seriously.” Alix put a hand on his shoulder and felt him relax under her touch. “You're probably the least boring person I know. I mean, I wouldn't have said that a few months ago, but now that I know you...”

“This isn't a mid-life crisis, if that's what you were wondering.”

“I didn't think it was. You're not even old enough to have one yet.”

“I'm thirty-one.”

She looked at him. Hard angles, toned muscle, and that baseball cap. He could pass for being in his twenties, if somebody were to just glance at him and walk by. But a person knew he was a little bit older when he opened up that mouth of his. No way did a twenty-something-year-old start deep conversations like he did.

“That's not old,” she said.

He picked up the ladder, the paint buckets, trays, and brushes, and motioned with his head for her to follow him. After getting the rest of their things, she did, walking through the backyard and then setting everything back up again.