Alex lies in bed still deep in sleep when I get out of bed to grab us coffee. It’s almost noon and she hasn’t moved once; her first night on the job did a number on her. Working with Alex might not be as bad as I thought it was going to be.

I just stepped out of Starbucks when my cell phone rings, causing me to shuffle both cups into one hand to answer it. “Hello,” I answer.

“Dane?”

“Yeah, who is this?” I ask. Alex and Nolan are usually the only ones that call me.

“It’s Alex’s dad.” Fuck, why is Alex’s dad calling me? My whole body stiffens.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Riley?” I ask. I don’t really care to hear what he has to say, but I can’t hang up.

He sighs. “How is Alex? We haven’t heard from her, and I want to make sure she’s okay.”

“You could call and ask her yourself,” I reply, leaning up against the building. I know Alex is in a constant tug of war with her self over wanting them to call her and not wanting them to call her. She wants them to change and to accept her for who she is. I hate seeing the pain they put her through, and I’d do anything to keep her from reliving it all again.

“I don’t have her number. She mailed her phone to us after the last time we saw her,” he says.

The weekend we visited for Gwen’s wedding, he pulled me aside. I never told Alex this because I knew what it would do to her. I just didn’t know her parents were doing the same thing to her.

Alex just left with her mom and sister to get her hair done for the wedding. She invited me to go golfing with her father, but I think I’m going to pass because I haven’t spoken to the guy once since I’ve been here. I got a glimpse of him at the rehearsal last night, and that was enough to tell me I wasn’t his choice for his daughter.

I shower and grab the keys Alex left me to take her car for a drive. There has to be something to do in Greenwich. As soon as I hop off the bottom step, I see her father standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s not a big man, but the expression on his face is enough to make me take a step back.

“Where are you off to?” he asks, moving in closer to me. I keep my feet locked into place.

“I was going to go run a few errands…maybe grab a cup of coffee and check out Greenwich,” I reply, turning the key chain around my finger.

He points to the keys in my hand. “Don’t you have your own car?” he asks.

“No, sir, I have a motorcycle.”

He takes another step closer. “My daughter deserves better than you,” he says in a threatening voice.

“That’s a matter of opinion,” I reply, eyeing the door.

“Oh yeah? What do you have to offer?”

I snap my eyes back up to him. “Myself.”

He shakes his head. “What if I offer you something to stay away from her? You can go off and buy yourself something really nice and leave my daughter alone.”

“There’s nothing you can do to make me stay away from her,” I say, suddenly feeling too closed off in his big house.

“How about $25,000?” he says, sticking his hands in his pockets.

I can’t believe this jerk is trying to offer me money to stay away from the one person who matters most to me. Alex explained her parents to me, but I wasn’t expecting the things her father is saying to me. They aren’t just controlling, they’re manipulative, self-absorbed assholes.

It’s my turn to take a step closer to him. “There is nothing you can offer me to make me leave her. Ever,” I seethe, pointing my finger at him.

He smiles. “What if I tell you that if you don’t back off, I’ll make your life a living hell? You see, I know things about you. Things I could use to ruin your family.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You can’t hurt my family. We all hit rock bottom a long time ago,” I say, walking past him to the door. “Go ahead and do what you want to do. I’m not leaving her.” I slam the door and quickly walk to the car, not giving the house a second glance. He can do whatever he wants, but I’m not letting him tear us apart. The worst thing he can do to me is ruin my relationship with Alex. After that, nothing else really matters.

He sounds like a different man today, but I still can’t trust him. He’s Alex’s dad, though, and whether or not she has a relationship with him is her decision.

“If I give you her number, will you call her?” I ask, hesitantly.

“Yes. Maybe not today, but I need to talk to her sometime. Don’t tell her I called, okay?” he asks warily.

“Okay, but don’t wait forever. She’s hurting, and I swear to God if you make it any worse-”

“I won’t, I promise,” he interrupts. I’m not convinced, but something in his voice tells me to trust him. I give him her contact info and put my phone back in the front pocket. A part of me wants him to call her and make things right, but the other part is scared she might retreat back to her old life.

Chapter Eleven

Dane Wright is going to be the death of me. Death from orgasm? Death from swooning? I’m not sure which one will kill me first, but it’s bound to happen some day. Last night after the incident in the cooler, I had trouble concentrating on my work. My body was on edge, still tingling from his touch…I practically attacked him as soon as we were through the apartment door.

My first night at work was a different experience. At first I was really nervous, but after completing my orientation with Reid and shadowing Kara, I was feeling pretty comfortable, and it wasn’t nearly as scary as I thought it would be. The hardest part is remembering orders since we’re not supposed to write them down. I swear, I wanted to slap anyone who interrupted me from the time I took an order and made it to the bar to give it to the bartenders. I perfected the “Just a minute” sign with my hand, pairing it with a friendly smile. It sounds awkward, but it worked.

Neither of us has to work today because it’s Sunday, so Dane invited his mom over for dinner. Sitting through another Wright family dinner has me feeling a little anxious, but since Nolan won’t be here, it can’t be as bad as the last…or I hope not, anyway.

“Hey,” Dane says, wrapping his arms around me from behind. “Do you want to go to the studio for a few hours before we have to start dinner?” The studio has become as much mine as it is his. It’s like our vacation home…a step away from reality.

I turn, wrapping my arms around his neck. “That sounds fabulous. Let me go change and then we can go.”

“Hurry,” he smiles, before kissing my forehead. I slept past noon today, so I’m still in nothing but a t-shirt and underwear. I slip into a pair of cutoff shorts and a Beatles t-shirt before throwing my hair into a knot on the top of my head. I wrap a colorful scarf that I picked up from a street vendor a couple months around my head to keep any loose strands out of my face. Not that I haven’t had paint in my hair before, but getting it out is like World War 3 and everything shows in my blonde hair. I don’t bother with any makeup, surprising Dane by taking less than ten minutes to come out of the bedroom.

“Ready,” I yell, placing my purse over my shoulder. He sits on the couch staring at me, eyes wide. “Are we going to the studio?” I ask.

“Yeah, we’re going to the studio,” he says, getting up from the couch and walking toward me. “I have to do something first, though.” The man in front of me always keeps me on my toes…I never know quite what to expect.

I watch each step he takes until he’s standing right in front of me, cupping my cheeks in his hands. My stomach flutters as I focus on his lips as they move closer to mine, my breath mixing with his before our lips finally touch. He begins by gently massaging each of my lips between his, and then uses his tongue to part my lips, giving him full access. It’s a lingering, soft, sensual kiss that doesn’t stop for minutes and leaves me completely breathless. Dane Wright has a road map to pleasing me and making me feel special.

He pulls back, looking down at me through hooded eyes. “I’m ready now,” he says, his mouth turning up at one side.

“You’re such a tease,” I say, smacking his arm. If he even hinted at it, I would follow him straight into the bedroom and let him have his way with the rest of my body. I wonder if he knows the affect he has on me.

“Oh, baby, I can do more than tease,” he says, walking toward me again.

I place my hand on his chest, stopping him from moving any closer. “We’re going to the studio. We have time for this other stuff later.” Part of me wants him to push me a little. If he asks me one more time, I’m his.

“It’s other stuff now, huh?” he teases, running his hands through his hair. If we continued what we started, I would be running my hands through that hair right now too.

“Let’s go,” I smile, taking his hand in mine and leading him out the door.

It seems like it gets a little hotter every day here in the city. There are families playing in the small park across the street who look so happy and content. I will always wish I’d grown up in that type of environment, but if I couldn’t have it then, at least I have it now. A few months ago, I would have said I never wanted children, but now I can see them in my future. Not anytime soon, but someday. The thought of putting a smile on my own child’s face, watching them run around excitedly, makes me want it. I once thought I would instantly turn into my parents when I had children of my own, but I realize now I have more control than I was giving myself credit for.

We head into the studio and get lost in our artwork. Dane goes to one side to work on a new sculpture while I go the side closest to the window to paint. He put a rug on the floor when I explained to him that I prefer to paint barefoot. I don’t know why, but I like to feel free when I paint.

This morning when I woke up, Dane had one shoulder resting against the wall, staring out the window. He had a cup of coffee in one hand, and the other was crossed over his stomach. He looked gorgeous and thoughtful. I could have stayed there staring at him for hours, but I only gave him a few minutes before wrapping my arms around him. He startled before covering my hand with his. I love moments like those, where we connect with no words. I burned the image of him into my mind, and now I’m putting it on canvas. We always have our memories, but they tend to fade with time; I wanted to lock this one up forever.




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