Saturday morning, Jax began the process of giving the atlas a new cover. The fact that it was both tedious and time-consuming didn’t bother him in the least. He considered what he did as a form of art and creating a masterpiece couldn’t be rushed.
He didn’t realize what time it was until there was a light knock on the workroom door and Donovan came in, saying, “Are you planning on stopping for dinner?”
“Give me a couple of minutes and I will,” Jax replied as he finished applying glue to the what would be the front board of the new cover and then laid it carefully on one side of the leather he’d bought. He secured it with weights, straightened up, and rolled his shoulders.
“Should I hire a masseuse for you?” Donovan asked, chuckling.
“Maybe a masseur?” Jax replied with a grin. “No, I’ll
