by Leah Holt
“Can I ask you something?” Liam tilted his head, causing his hair to sweep over his forehead, and land just above his eyes.
“Sure.” Fiddling with my fingers in my lap, I shrugged my shoulder.
“When did you know you wanted to be an artist?”
Looking up at the ceiling, I let my gaze flip around all the dollar bills stapled to the sheet rock. They were everywhere, literally hundreds and hundreds of one dollar bills. All of them had black ink stains; some with names, some had images, some were a scribbled mess of nothing.
I felt a tickle on my skin, light as a feather. Glancing down, Liam was holding a dollar bill, running it up and down the side of my arm. “Go on, take it.” Flirting his eyes to the side, he nudged his head. “There's a marker right there.”
Pinching the bill between my fingers, I grabbed the marker and tugged off the cap. The image of an angel and devil, meshed together like a giant beast popped into my head.
So I went with it, sketching the wings and horns. My favorite part to draw was the eyes. I always saved that for last. Eyes were where the truth was, the eyes were where you could see what wasn't being said.
“Well? When did you know?” he asked, leaning over the table to watch the picture come to life.
I tried to think back to when I was a little girl and my father had bought me my first easel. That was the happiest moment of my life, until I opened my gallery.
But I wasn't sure when the realization set in that this was who I was. Art became more than just a colorful picture, it became my way to communicate when I didn't have the words to speak.
“I guess I've always loved drawing since I was kid. And it just kinda grew from there.”
Shaking his head, he frowned. “No, I don't mean when did you start drawing. A lot of people can draw, but they don't turn it into what you did. Why did you become an artist.”
Need. . . Desire to be heard. . . Longing for a voice in it all.
“Why?” My lids popped open, lashes tickling the skin below my brow. “I guess it wasn't so much a choice as it was a force. I had to be this, it's who I am.”
“Hm,” the sound left his mouth with wonder. Scrubbing his jaw, his gaze pinned me in the seat. It was as if he was trying to read my mind, trying to see what brought that need out.
“Does that answer your question?”
“It tells me that there's more to you than I can see.”
“Well, we just met—” The weight of someone standing over me caused me to stop talking as their shadow pressed down on my shoulder blades.
Glancing up, a waitress stood beside us, popping her gum before asking, “What can I get you two?”
“I'll just have a glass of water for now,” I said, giving her a smile.
Cocking a brow, he frowned. “Water?”
“Yeah, water. I need a clear head, drinking won't help.”
“You need something to help you relax.” Looking up at the waitress, his hand moved and spun in the air as he talked. “What would you recommend for someone who's had a completely shitty day?”
Tossing a thoughtful look between us, she smiled. “I'd go for a Rum and Coke. Or maybe a Long Island Iced Tea, those have a little bit of everything in it.”
“Perfect, we'll take one of each.” Flashing her a big toothy grin, his gaze switched back to me. “That's what we need.” Snagging the dollar out from under my hand, he held it up. His mouth turned up high, eyes wide. “This is amazing, I can't believe you just threw it down that easily.” Running his fingers around the edges, he pointed up above our heads. “Can it go right there?”
“Absolutely,” she said, stuffing her notepad into the pouch of her apron. “I'll be right back with your drinks and the stapler.”
“Peer pressure much?” Knitting my brows, I tried not to smile, but it didn't work. The corner of my lip tipped up, the muscle twitching to keep it in place.
“Is it working?”
“It's not helping.”
“Are you sure?” Curling his lip, his lids hoods. “Because I'm pretty sure I saw a spark in your eye when she said Long Island Iced Tea.”
Shaking my head, I tried not to giggle. “I don't think you saw anything like that.”
Pushing big palms into the table, Liam sat back, straightening his arms. “I absolutely did. Your brain says no, but your eyes say yes. Your eyes say a lot of things, Glory.” Winking, he pursed his lips into a tight grin, forcing the dimple to pop on his cheek.
I sat quiet, unable to use my tongue. There were no words in my head, all of them lost to the sexual tension building inside me.
Is he trying to flirt with me?
“Just like your art speaks to the eye, your silence speaks to me.” His chest muscles flexed, stretching the fabric into a thin sheet. Firm pectorals were busting the seams, as thick muscles rolled up in his biceps like rocks.
My chest grew tight, belly tumbling and flipping as butterflies swarmed with frantic wings. Wriggling in the seat, I tucked my hands under my thighs as my nerves went rampant, exploding all through my body.
I was hot and cold, sizzling and turning to ice all in the same instant. Chills ran up my spine, curling fiery fingertips into my veins. My cheeks flushed, turning pink, only to cool into red frost burnt skin. The heat between my thighs pulsed, tickling the sensitive bundle of nerves.
I couldn't look at him, I wanted to, but I wanted to ground myself first. I didn't like the power he suddenly had over me, I didn't enjoy feeling like I was losing control.
Now was not the time to get all steamy eyed for this man who had kicked down my door and dragged me to safety.
But that's exactly what was happening.
Every look, every smirk and smile, it twisted my insides into knots. Liam was making me forget the pain I was feeling and replacing it with misguided lust.
What the hell is going on with me?
It's just my emotions messing with me.
I had just been cowering on the floor, riddled in uncertainty and fear. My brain was screwed up, running on adrenaline I wasn't sure what to do with it.
Those feelings of lust weren't real, they were fake. A false state of desire to erase the blackness that wanted to shadow my heart.
“Here you go,” the waitress said, snapping me back into reality. “Who's getting what?”
“Glory, which one?”
“Long Island.” My fingers nabbed the glass before she even had time to set it down. Sucking in a big gulp of alcohol, I swallowed it with a cringe. “Oo, that's strong.”
“And that's exactly what you need, something strong.” Lifting his drink in the air, he jiggled it side to side.
“What are you doing?”
“Hold up your glass.” Giving him a funny look, I did what he asked. Clinking the glasses together, he said, “To new friends, new days, and to a new future.”
The waitress passed Liam a stapler. “Put it anywhere you'd like.”
Standing up, he reached his arms high above his head, securing the bill directly over us. “Looks good,” he said, handing the stapler back and dropping down. “See, a new dollar to start a new day. It all starts right here, right now.”
Bringing the drink to my lips, the alcohol tickled my skin, making them go numb like I had just sucked on a hot pepper. “I'd love to agree, but I'm not sure where my future sits right now.”
“Trust me, you will. Things will fall into place, they always do.”
“How can you be so sure?” Veering my stare, I tipped my chin up. “You know nothing about me.”
“I know more than you think.” A wide grin spread across his face, reaching his ears. “Your art tells a story, I know your story.”
“How could you possibly know? You didn't even get a chance to see my paintings.” Laughing nervously, I fumbled with my drink.
“I've seen your work, it's amazing. I had a chance to peek in the window a few times before, but you weren't open.”
“Really?”
Nodding, Liam's bott
om lip pushed out, his eyes glazing over in thought. He went some where right then, leaving me alone at the table. His eyes shone like glass, my reflection a small blip on his pupils. There was a long pause before he spoke, his breathing slow and faint.
Looking down at his hands, he ran his fingers back and forth over the table. “My mom was an artist, so I might know a few a things.”
The way he said it, it hit me. There was sadness in his tone, his voice soft and flat. I understood what he was feeling, so I guided our conversation away from that place.
“Can you paint?”
“No, I can't paint for shit. But I can see the thoughts behind the detail, I can see the feelings in the image.”
Holding my drink, I swirled the liquor around and watched it form a tiny tornado. I needed to occupy myself with something else, something that wouldn't force my brain into a stand still. “So, are you from around here?”
“No, I'm here on business, and I'm hoping the opportunity works in my favor.”
“What kind of business opportunity?”
Sucking air in through thin lips, Liam leaned back against the seat and ran a hand through his hair. “It's a work in progress. I'm not even sure I want the green light anymore. But we'll see.”
Nodding my head, I took another swig of my drink, keeping my eyes inside the glass. “Well, I hope you get what you came here for. Business can be a bitch sometimes, I can tell you that.” Rolling my eyes, I rested the glass down, running my thumbs over the small droplets that had formed on the outside.
At least you have something, that's more than I have right now.
Studying me, Liam's brows furrowed, his expression penetrating my soul. Those eyes, those eyes could do so many things to me.
The way they drew me in, the way they were so deep, so strong, and yet, I couldn't read him. He was wearing a mask, his inner thoughts hidden from view, while he read me like a fucking book.
“You've had some other business trouble. What was it?” Rolling his shoulders forward, he flicked his gaze between mine, trying to see what was in my head.
Scrunching my lips, I felt the alcohol heating my core and warming my skin. “You know it took me years to get my gallery and build it into what it was. I put everything into it; blood, sweat, tears. . . Literally everything.” Laughing to myself, I curled the tips of my fingers over the rim of my glass. “And then one day, someone wants to rip it out from underneath you. I refused to let that happen, but now, with this shit—I'm not sure what to do.”
His lids lowered, trying to figure out how much of what I was saying revolved around the break in, and how much was another experience all together. But he didn't ask me to explain.
And I wasn't about to spew my guts all over the table. It wasn't his problem, none of this fell on him. These were my problems, my burdens to carry.
I didn't stop at one drink. There was another, then another. And I was feeling really good. Maybe a little too good.
I lost a little self control, allowing myself to flirt with Liam. And I was liking it, the moment of freedom before reality slapped my face in the morning; it was nice.
Everything that had happened melted away. I didn't feel the anger or despair from walking into a shit storm, I didn't feel the sadness over losing everything I had created. Any fear of the man was gone, pushed further and further into the back of my mind as the drinks went down like water.
All I felt was Liam and the kindness of drunken inhibition.
His smile, his eyes, his voice. . . it all worked. I was happy for the moment, forgetting there was even a first half to this day.
“Did you grow up here?” he asked, palming his drink and taking a long sip. His eyes skirted around the glass, watching me intently.
“Yes and no. I lived in Rhode Island until I was fourteen, then my family moved here.” Tapping my thumbs against my drink, my lids hooded as I spoke. “I don't really miss it, but I do miss coffee milk and hot wieners. Shit, I'd kill to have either one of those right now.”
“Coffee milk? Sounds gross.” Scrunching up his face, he stuck out his tongue in disgust.
“It's not, it's delicious.” Smiling, I bit down on my bottom lip. “Maybe you'll get lucky and one day and I'll share some with you.”
“I'm not a man who believes in luck.”
Veering my stare, I tipped my chin up. “Really? You don't think someone can be lucky?”
“I think people make choices,” he said, running his thumb over the thin rim of his glass. His gaze settled on my face, his eyes following the outline of my lips. “Choices that can change everything.”
My heart started to race as I sat still, his glare holding me in place. Drawing in air through my nose, I lifted a hand to my mouth, plucking at my lips. “Change them how?”
“However it plays out. Luck isn't about good or bad, it's about where it takes you and what you do with it when you get there.” His eyes turned wicked, searing my skin with invisible flames. “So, what are you going to do with it?”
Sucking in a gulp of air, my lips sealed shut as I shook my head. “I—I don't know.” Opening my lids wider, my lashes tickled the bottom of my brows. “I never thought about it like that before.”
My brain was trying to figure out this puzzled question. My father had always said that the world was a balancing act between good and bad, and that luck was the teeter it sat on. Sometimes that weight would shift in your favor, other times it wouldn't. But no matter what, no matter how much bad there was, luck would come back to you at some point.
“Tell me then, what makes you believe in luck?”
Shrugging my shoulder, I glanced up at the ceiling. “Because believing gives it a presence. Belief makes it real, it becomes tangible.” Dropping my eyes back onto his, I held his gaze. “Without luck people would think that they had total control, but you can't control everything. No matter how much you might want to.”
Liam gave me a toothy grin as he pushed back in the seat. “I guess it all comes down to what you believe then.”
“I guess so,” I said, stabbing the ice in my glass with my straw.
“Okay, my turn. Go on, ask me something.” Holding out his arms, he opened his chest. “Ask me anything.”
We spent hours in that bar, talking and laughing. He talked about growing up in Kentucky, and how his grandparents had a farm full of cows and chickens. But now he lived in Washington, a world away from there.
I learned he had an older brother, and that they ran their father's business, carrying on his legacy. He wouldn't tell me in what, and that peaked my interest, but he said that was a conversation for another time.
“LAST CALL!” the bartender yelled from behind the counter.
“It's two in the morning already?” Grabbing my phone, I clicked it on so I could see the time. “Shit, I need to go.”
Liam took the last sip of his drink and waved to the waitress for our check. Grabbing his wallet, he took out some money, and set it on the table. “Come on, I'll walk you home.” Standing up, he flipped his fingers in my direction. Taking his hand, he helped me out of the booth, asking, “You sure you can walk?”
Swaying on my heels, I giggled. “I'm not too sure.”
Resting an open palm on the small of my back, he steadied me on my feet. “How far away do you live from here?”
“It's only few blocks. I'm sure I'll be fine.”
“I'm closer, why don't you come back with me and I'll call you a cab.”
Gripping his forearm, I found my balance. “No, no, I'm fine. I can get home.”
“Alright, then how about you come home with me anyway?”
Pursing my lips, a small voice whispered in my ear, doing its best to remind me that playtime should be over.
Just go home. It's been fun, but distractions are just that. . . Fun.
Distractions don't fix problems, they don't mend broken paintings and erase threats. What I needed was a good night sleep so I could tackle tomorrow with a fresh set of eyes and a clear
head.
Except, I didn't want this to end. I enjoyed being right where I was. I couldn't change what happened, but I could prolong it. I could forget about it for a little while longer.
Didn't I deserve that?
Didn't I earn a break from reality this one time?
Tilting my head, he flashed me his big blue eyes and wriggled his brows. A tingle radiated between my thighs, coalescing into a throb that beat against my sex. It might have been the alcohol that was holding my hand and helping along, but I didn't give a shit.
My head was still clear, I was still thinking for myself. And I wanted this man to give me one happy thing to look back on when I thought about this day.
Was it wrong of me to want him to have his way with me?
That raw need didn't feel like me, but that's all I could focus on.
“Are you trying to take advantage of me, Mr. Business Opportunity?”
Laying his hand over his chest, Liam gave me a stern look. “That is something I would never do.”
Maybe I want you to.
I wanted to keep this feeling going, I wanted to stay lost in him and not let reality ever come back. Because this was far better than what tomorrow would bring. I felt greedy and starved, eager to wrap my legs around his hips and let him thrust the nightmares right out of my mind.
Lowering my lids, I batted my lashes. “Well maybe I want you to.”
“I never said the night had to be over.”
My cheeks blushed and the corner of my lip twitched. The flutter in my belly went wild as my entire body went up in a torrent of crackling sparks.
“Come on, let's get out of here.” His fingers twined around mine and Liam led us both out of the bar.
Screw it.
Tomorrow can wait.
Chapter Three
Glory
We walked in silence, our feet clicking against the sidewalk in tandem. I could hear my heart beating inside my chest, thudding so loudly I glanced up at him, expecting he could hear it too.
“Did you know your eyes have a little green in them?”
“What?” I asked, nervously brushing the hair out of my face.
“Your eyes, when the light hits them just right, there's speckles of green.”