by Beth Michele
“I’m sure he’ll call, and if he doesn’t, I’ll kick his billion-dollar ass.” We both laugh before she adds, “I see a hot guy at three o’clock. I have to run. Text me after you hear from him.”
“Okay. Thanks, G. Love you.”
“Love you more.”
I end the call and drop the phone on the bed, breathing a little easier. Georgia is right. Jace is a very busy guy, and I’m certain I’m not at the top of his priority list. Something else I’m certain about? I need to center myself. I need the ease of a brushstroke across canvas, the peace it brings me.
I need to paint.
With a calming breath and renewed determination, I push myself up and gather my clothes from the floor. Inspiration lifts my spirits and prompts me to dress quickly then grab my purse so I can get the heck out of here.
I’m on my way out when I glimpse the Scrabble game by the door. I definitely don’t want to leave the luxury edition behind. My smile is back, though no one is around to see how it overtakes my face. As I near the table, something else happens, and it’s as if a million fireflies have invaded my chest. My heart races and those flutters are back tenfold. The Scrabble board is out, and on it is one word:
I’m going to need a lot of Tums.
A meeting on a Saturday is not unusual for me. Today, though, my office is the last place I want to be. My mind is elsewhere, occupied by thoughts of deep green eyes and a smile I can trace from memory.
I wonder if my message, albeit simple, was too much, too soon, wonder if I’ve made her want to run in the other direction, away from the boring, unimpulsive man who has no experience with matters of the heart. I’m no fool—I see what she’s done. How she bypassed the cordoned-off area, snuck in when I wasn’t paying attention.
“Those percentages look promising,” Ron says from across my desk. “This deal looks really good. By the way,” he adds, “at my breakfast meeting yesterday at The Plaza, I ran into Alec Jackson. He was in rare form, as always. He was downright rude to the staff, and I heard him belittle one of his employees in the lobby.” His expression sours. “He’s the same douche he was at Columbia. I don’t understand how he’s been so successful or why people want to work for him.”
“He’s shrewd and he pays them a royal sum to put up with his bullshit.”
“You couldn’t pay me enough.” Ron throws me a smartass grin. “Besides, I like you better.”
“Okay.”
“Okay? That’s it?” He sits forward in the chair. “Where are you? Because you sure as heck aren’t here.”
I close my laptop. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”
“Obviously, if you have no snide remarks about Alec.” His gaze swings to the right then back. “If I can be frank for a second, you kind of look like shit—and since when do you come in here in a t-shirt and jeans?”
“Ron, last I checked, it was Saturday.”
He stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have. “Since when has that ever made a difference?”
I ignore his question and counter with one of my own. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure. Shoot.”
Ron and I went to grad school together and he’s been by my side since I started this company. He’s a trusted colleague and a good friend. Still, hesitation forces me to pause. How do I phrase my question so I don’t sound like I’m in grade school? “How soon after you meet someone is it too soon to tell them…you like them?”
A smirk appears on his smug face. “Is this a hypothetical?”
“Just answer the damn question.”
He holds up his hands. “All right, all right. No need to get hostile. I’m not sure I’m the best person to answer that question,” he says, a quirky smile I’ve never seen before appearing on his face.
“Why is that?”
“Well…Elise and I were engaged in four months and married a year later.” He grins. “It was a bit of a whirlwind, but it was the best damn decision I’ve ever made.”
I scratch at the stubble along my jaw. “But what’s the protocol?”
“Protocol?” he asks, like I have two heads. “It’s not a business transaction, Harlow. There is no protocol when it comes to feelings, and there aren’t any rules either. Well, I guess there are, but you make your own.” He goes on, a fire in his eyes. “I can tell you this: if I had listened to my family and other people in my life, Elise and I wouldn’t be married right now, and I damn sure wouldn’t be as happy as I am.”
“Interesting.”
“Interesting? That’s all I get after I pour my heart out? I’m practically bleeding here.”
My uncertainty gives way to a smile. “It’s about a woman.”
“Tell me something I didn’t know.” He chuckles. “It usually is, right?”
“You know it’s never been a dilemma for me before,” I counter, and he nods, knowing my truth.
He stands, leaving the documents I requested on my desk. “I only have one thing to say.” He smirks. “Actually, two: it’s about time, and halle-fucking-lujah.”
An unexpected laugh escapes. “I’m glad this pleases you so much. Now go home to Elise, and thanks for coming in this morning. I appreciate it.”
“Any time, chief. Any time.”
I walk into the penthouse, surprised to see Chaz still here and lying on the sofa. My eyes scan the room for potential damage.
“Don’t worry, little brother, I abided by your rules. I didn’t even take a shower.” He laughs—like a mad scientist, I might add—making light of his past indiscretions. As I collapse next to him, he sizes me up. “Look at you, still all cas’,” he says, and I roll my eyes. “And dear, you didn’t come home last night—I was worried.” I smack him with a pillow, which does little to curb his teasing. “Should I assume there was fucking involved?”
“Jesus, Chaz. What the hell is the matter with you?”
“Whoa, defensive much? I’m just playing around, Jace. You should try it sometime.” He hugs the pillow to his chest. “And besides, what’s wrong with fucking?”
I shift on the couch and turn to face him. “There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just not always about that.”
“So you didn’t get any.” He throws me an empathetic look. “That’s a shame.”
I crack a smile. “You’re infuriating.”
“And you need to lighten up.” He looks away, and that’s when I notice his knee bouncing nonstop.
“What’s wrong?”
“What do you mean?” he replies, still unwilling to meet my stare.
“Chaz, it’s obvious something’s going on. What is it?”
He flicks me a sideways glance. “What, so you can fix it for me like you fix everyone else’s problems? No thanks.”
“I’m your brother.” My tone softens. “You know I’m here for you.”
“Yes, and you’re my younger brother,” he says with some reluctance. “But you’re so freaking put together and you take care of everyone. That should be me.” His sigh is heavy and my stomach clenches. “I’m the older brother,” he explains, chewing on the corner of his lip. “Shit.” His curse prompts me to stay quiet, giving him the space to continue. “I got kicked out of my apartment.”
“What? Why?”
He expels an uneven breath. “I haven’t paid rent in a while.”
A missing piece slips into place in my mind. Now it makes sense: why he was so adamant about coming here to watch the game, why he’s still here now.
“I don’t understand.” I offer my hand on his shoulder for support. “Why not?”
His devastated gaze finally meets mine. “Because I lost my job three months ago.”
The words take a second to sink in, and when they do, fury propels me to bolt from the sofa, raking a hand through my hair. “You lost your job three months ago? And you’re just telling me now? Jesus, Chaz. I could’ve opened an account for you and given you more than enough money to tide you over.”
“No.” His firm response brooks
no argument, but that doesn’t stop me.
“Why not?”
An unfamiliar defeat rims his eyes. “Because everyone comes to you for money, and that’s not us, you know? I don’t want our relationship to be about that.”
“I see. So you’d rather end up homeless than come to your brother. For the record, our relationship would never be about that.” I storm off, heading toward my office.
Chaz’s footsteps follow me down the hall. “Where are you going?”
Annoyance over not being able to help sooner is like a ticking time bomb inside my chest. “To get my checkbook.”
“I’m not taking your money. I’ll rip up the check.”
I square around. “Why are you being so stubborn? And what’s the point of having all this money if I can’t help my own brother?”
His defiant stance tells me everything. “I said no, Jace.”
“Fine.” I step up to him until we’re eye to eye. “You don’t want to accept my financial assistance, okay, but you’ll stay here until you get on your feet.” He opens his mouth but I shut him down. “Not one word. I have more than enough room for you. You’re staying here and that’s the end of it.” When it appears he has something else to say, I steamroll over any potential pushback. “You won’t win this round, so don’t bother trying.”
He’s quiet for several long beats. “Okay. I can live with that,” he finally says, and his mouth forms the closest thing to a smile I’ve seen since we began this conversation.
“Good.” I make my way down the hall, throwing him a backward wave. “I’m exhausted and I’m going to take a shower.”
“Hey, bro?” he calls out, and I glance back.
“Yeah?”
He leans against the wall, hands shoved into his pockets. “I want you to know I’ve been pounding the pavement looking for work, but…you didn’t ask me why I lost my job.”
“That’s because it’s not important. What’s important is you having a place to come home to while you figure things out.” He nods, and I continue on toward a shower I desperately need.
“Jace?”
“Yesssss,” I say on a sideways glance, one foot in my bedroom.
“You know, you don’t need to read any of those books to get a woman. You have everything you need right here,” he says, pulling a hand from his jeans and thumping on his chest. “You’ve always had it and it makes me jealous as fuck.” He points a finger at me and smiles. “And if you ever tell anyone I said that, I’ll bury your ass in the fucking ground, little brother.”
To say I’m stunned is an understatement. “Thanks, Chaz.”
“Yeah, well, you know I love you.” He grumbles the words so they’re almost unintelligible.
“I do.” Then I flip him a grin. “Can I take a shower now, or is there anything else?”
“Nah, we’re good.”
Yeah, I think we are.
After fifteen minutes in the shower—a world record for me—I emerge to find Chaz on the sofa again, a beer in one hand, remote in the other.
“I still don’t get you,” he says, rehashing yesterday’s conversation. “You could spend hours in there.”
My death glare only serves to amuse him. “Yes, I think you’ve proven that.” I lean over the back of the sofa. “Which reminds me—we need to set some ground rules.”
“Say no more,” he jumps in, counting with a flick of each finger. “No using your shower, no porn, no parties.” He grabs his groin. “What about fucking? Is that off the table?”
I grin. “For you, yes.”
“Ooooh, good comeback. But I am staying here now,” he says, stretching his arms out in front of him like he’s king of the castle.
“Don’t push it.”
“Fiiiine.” His attention strays to the TV. “Man, Robin Williams was a genius.”
“What is this?” I round the sofa and fall onto the leather.
“You’re kidding, right? It’s Good Will Hunting.”
“Never saw it,” I admit, chuckling at his bewildered expression.
In a horrific English accent, he replies, “Right. You don’t have time for frivolous things like the rest of us common folk.”
“Hey, I played Scrabble last night,” I protest, eyes on my phone, plotting out my next move.
“Huh?”
“Never mind.” I pull up Lily’s name to shoot her a text but change my mind at the last minute. “By the way, if you need help moving your stuff here, let me know.”
“Thanks, bro. Man, that was such a good fucking ending.” He cackles. “It almost makes me want to tear up.”
“That I’d like to see.” I backhand him on the chest then slide off the sofa. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to see my girl.”
“Damn, bro. That’s not what Matt Damon said, and you just slaughtered one of my favorite lines. I can never unhear that.”
“Yes, well, there are lots of things I’d like to unhear. See you later, Chaz.” On my way out, I send him a warning glare over my shoulder. “Behave.”
“Yes, Dad.” He gives me a two-fingered salute. “Hey,” he calls out. “What’s her name?”
“Her name?” Any poker face I had is shot to hell, an uncontrollable smile spreading across my face. “Lily. Her name is Lily.”
I brush a paint-splattered strand of hair behind my ear as I stand back to assess my work. A giddy smile comes over me. This is different, but I like it. The colors are soft, the lines more defined. My specialty has always been bold landscapes and abstract pieces, but this…
More smiling.
Satisfied with my new creation, I clean up then hop in the shower, determined not to obsess about Jace. I’m unsuccessful, of course, but I don’t care. Whatever this feeling is, whatever is happening between the two of us, I welcome it with open arms. It feels too good to be denied, and much like my new piece of art, I can’t control the way it pours out of me—or my damn fluttery heart, for that matter.
Five consecutive pings sound from the bedroom as I’m toweling off. Another two as I pad across the hall. Before I even reach my phone, I know who it is.
Georgia: it’s 12, you didn’t call
Georgia: all okay?
Georgia: should I be worried
Georgia: he’ll call, I promise
Georgia: I’m hungry, sorry sidetracked
Georgia: dinner tonight? Corner Bistro?
Georgia: in the mood for a juicy burger
Gotta love Georgia, and believe me, I do.
their burgers are like 10 bucks, and so is their beer
Georgia: but you don’t drink beer, you hardly drink at all
you don’t always have to make so much sense
Georgia: of course I do. any news for me?
My belly flips.
he left me a message, after all
Georgia: you see? I’m so smart
you are indeed
Georgia: what are you up to today?
going over to see Mona. bought her something
Georgia: sweet! taking Rowan to an early afternoon Mets game. Dad got box seats
he’s gonna love that! have so much fun!
Georgia: we will
say hi to Rowan and your dad for me
Georgia: will do, I’ll text later with a time for burgers
K
I throw on my favorite pair of ripped jeans and a graphic tee then gather my damp hair into a ponytail. Mona’s gift is sitting on the dresser, and I drop it into my purse. As I slide my feet into my Chucks, I try not to stare down at my cell phone. I do, however, catch a glimpse of my reflection in the hallway mirror. “I’m Lily Conrad, and I’m cool as a cucumber.” First I’m painting portraits, and now I’m talking to myself. I laugh a little at how ridiculous I’m being.
A quick stop at the fridge to grab a bottle of water and I’m on my way. My phone pings when I reach the door and I pull it out to find a text from Jace. Finally.
Jace: Good afternoon, Miss Conrad
My belly flutt
ers are in full swing again.
Good afternoon, Mr. Harlow
Jace: I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye this morning, office crisis and didn’t want to wake you
you left in such a hurry you forgot the Scrabble board
Jace: I did, didn’t I?
I want to say more, but nerves get the better of me and I end up opting for humor.
only 16 points though, not your finest moment
Jace: pay attention, Miss Conrad, it was a double word score
LOL. of course it was
Three dots appear then disappear twice before his text comes through.
Jace: can I see you today?
you already saw me
Jace: and I want to see you again. this afternoon?
I open the door and bump right into Jace.
“Oh.” My gaze lowers to my phone then up, surprise giving way to a big smile.
“Oh,” he mimics with an adorable grin. God, I missed him, and I just saw him last night. I am so screwed.
“You’re here.”
“I am.”
He goes in for the kill, and before I know what hits me, his mouth is moving over mine. Slow, gentle, and sweet, with long, deliberate strokes of his tongue and delicious, rough stubble grazing my skin. He tastes of coffee and smells like sunshine and ocean. It’s a heady combination, one that propels me to lean against the wall for fear of melting at his feet. As always, his hands lift to my face, but something is different. The way he holds me, it’s as if he’s afraid I might slip through his fingers.
Too quickly, he eases off of my mouth and lets me go. “You were headed somewhere?”
“I was?”
“You were walking out the door,” he explains with a smug grin, as if he knows exactly what his kisses do to me.
I shake off my Jace-induced daze. “Oh yes, I was. I’m on my way to Brooklyn—to the nursing home,” I clarify.
“Ah.” He’s quiet, but the air is loaded with a silent question.
“Would you like to come along? It’s not going to be all that exciting, but—”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” I lock the door behind me, trying to keep my joy at his eagerness in check. Jace reaches down to intertwine our fingers as we descend the stairs. “I changed my mind about the exciting part,” I say, ignoring the tingles shooting up my arm. “You’ll get to meet Mona, and she’s pretty exciting.”