by Gun Brooke
When I came, I called out her name, vowing to reciprocate in kind. I just knew that tasting Hayden would be as sweet as the woman herself.
Chapter Twenty-one
Two days later, on Sunday afternoon, Hayden and I stepped out of India’s car in front of our house. The revelation that I saw the house as ours made me swallow and then smile.
Hayden looked tired, her eyes red and with dark circles underneath them. She glanced over toward Penelope’s house, and I figured if there was any way for Hayden to regain her bearings after yet another crowd-infested airport experience—even if she had handled it well—a session, or at least a chat, with Penelope would do it.
“Why don’t you see what Penelope’s been up to this weekend, Hayden?” I asked as I pulled out our bags.
“Okay.” She started walking, and I smiled when she stopped suddenly, pivoted, and returned to, as I thought, kiss my cheek. Instead she kissed me passionately on the lips and then resumed her jog toward the Moore residence.
“And I guess you two are getting along really well?” India hoisted my messenger bag and handed me my keys. “Boss, that was some kiss.”
“Hmm. Well. She never does anything halfway.” I opened the door and switched off the alarm. In fact, having made love with Hayden several times since Friday evening, I was deliciously sore but kept that fact to myself.
“Erica says to invite you guys to dinner on Tuesday, if that’s doable.” India, according to our habit, carried out her assistant duties at my home as well and grabbed my house phone to listen for messages, pen in hand.
“That sounds great. I think Hayden will like it. Just stock up on mineral water.” Kicking off my shoes, I smiled with relief, but when I turned to her I saw a deep frown form on India’s face. She hung up the phone, staring at me.
“Fuck. We’ve got to get over to wherever Hayden was going. Penelope, right? The author?”
“What? Why?” I was already shoving my feet back into my discarded shoes.
“That was Penelope. Edward, that’s her husband, I believe?”
“Yes?” My heart plummeted.
“He passed away yesterday.”
“Wh-what?”
“She said she didn’t want to ruin the showing in Chicago for you but wanted you to know as soon as you came home.”
I ran. After I stormed out the door, I hurried down the sidewalk trying to catch up to Hayden. I wanted to be there when she found out. But Hayden had been running over to Penelope’s and had reached her house within minutes. As I rushed up the path to Penelope’s front door, I saw it was half open. With India right behind me, I stopped inside the hallway, where Penelope was holding on tight to Hayden’s hands.
“Ah, Greer came along too. And you girls brought a friend.” Penelope shook her head at me, and I realized she hadn’t broken the news to Hayden yet.
“Hi, Penelope.” I greeted her softly and introduced India.
Penelope shook India’s hand and then turned back to Hayden. “Now, why don’t we go and sit in the conservatory, all four of us?”
“Something’s wrong, Greer,” Hayden said to me, her eyes darkening. “Something has changed in Penelope’s face since I painted her last and—”
I came up on her other side. “Let’s go with Penelope.”
“Why are you here? You’re out of breath. Did you run?” Her eyes narrowing with suspicion, Hayden glanced back and forth between Penelope and me.
Penelope didn’t sit down but merely turned to Hayden when we stood in the center of the beautiful conservatory Hayden enjoyed so much. “Hayden? Edward died yesterday morning, probably around six. He suffered a major heart attack and was dead before the paramedics arrived.” She spoke with sorrow, but also with dignity and love. “And he would have died alone, had it not been for the sketch you made of me.” She blinked away tears, cupping Hayden’s cheeks. “He was holding it against his chest, which comforts me. The last two days before he passed away, he only recognized me in that portrait—not me in person. I think he felt I was with him.”
“Edward is dead.” Hayden looked at me over Penelope’s shoulder, telling me as if she didn’t think I’d heard. “He’s gone.”
“I know, darling.” I wanted to hug her to me, hold her close, but I could tell Penelope needed the contact, and perhaps Hayden did too.
Hayden cupped Penelope’s shoulders and kissed her cheek. “I’m so sorry. Are you very lonely?”
“I don’t think I’ve come to that yet, child. It’s very quiet, though. I’m used to Edward yelling for me when I’m not there, or snoring when I sat next to him, writing.”
“You can come home with us. Greer has several guest rooms.” Hayden sent me a look that said “right?” in a very clear way.
I nodded. “Yes, you shouldn’t be alone.”
“Oh, I’m all right. All his caregivers still come according to their schedule. They’re so loyal.” Penelope wrapped her arm around Hayden’s shoulder. “What I would love is some distraction. Please tell me about Chicago, the showing, all of it.”
We sat down on the cushioned wrought-iron chairs. India offered to locate the kitchen and make some coffee, but Penelope insisted on the current caregiver doing it.
“Well, Hayden? Go on.” Penelope sat close to Hayden and held her hand. I had the feeling we’d shown up just when Penelope needed us the most.
“The visitors liked my paintings.” Hayden nodded with emphasis. “Even the critics that Greer says are very picky. She calls them hard-nosed.”
“I’m sure they can be.”
“People asked me about my technique, where I come from, where I’d been hiding, who I’d studied with, and all kinds of questions. Some were hard to answer.”
“Which ones?” Penelope asked, but was interrupted by a young man carrying a tray of coffee and biscuits. She motioned for him to place the tray on the table. “Do take a break and put your feet up, Larry,” she told the man. “You’ve been at it all day.”
“Thanks, Penelope.” Larry nodded politely at us and left.
“Which ones?” Penelope asked Hayden again.
“Some asked where my inspiration came from. It was hard to answer when it came to Perilous Wonder, but easy for Sun Spirit. That one shows some of how Greer makes me feel. Not all of it, but some.”
I had been pouring us all some coffee, but now I snapped my eyes up to look at Hayden. I’d thought it was about her coming out of her shell, and even if I had a lot to do with it, I didn’t know I was part of her inspiration. This realization created a glowing bundle in the center of my chest, and I knew I was smiling like a fool. “She sold both of them,” I said, so proud of Hayden that my grin grew even bigger.
“Oh, Hayden, that’s wonderful. I’m so glad I got to see them before Greer shipped them off to Chicago.” Penelope beamed, something I would have thought impossible only moments ago. Clearly the distraction of Hayden’s success was working.
“What else took place?” Penelope asked and sipped her coffee.
“I had sex with Greer. Several times.” Hayden looked pleased. “That was the best part of the weekend.”
A fine mist of coffee sprayed from Penelope and India. I wanted to tip my chair over and hide behind a damn palm tree or something. Hayden in turn looked obliviously, if a bit curiously, at the other two.
“How—how nice.” Penelope attempted another sip before she put her cup down. “So, the two of you are, eh…an item?”
“No.” Hayden regarded the coffee with hesitation. “We’re lovers.” She spoke with clear satisfaction.
“Yes. Of course,” Penelope said weakly.
“Of course,” India echoed, glancing at me, her eyes sparkling.
“We’ve taken yet another step in our relationship,” I said, doing my best to sound casual. I was fully aware that life with Hayden would mean social awkwardness on a daily basis—or close to it. And I wanted a life with Hayden more than I’d ever wanted anything else. What was a little embarrassment compared with tha
t? Besides, when Hayden disclosed our new status with such a happy face, how could I bother with the social dos and don’ts?
“I’m very excited for you.” Penelope squeezed my arm. “Are you planning what comes after this yet?”
I flinched. What was she talking about? Our relationship?
Penelope smiled broadly at my apparent confusion. “In regard to Hayden’s work? Is she going to have a showing of her own?”
“Oh, that,” I said, relieved, then shooting India, who was snorting, a dark glance. “What do you say, Hayden? When you feel the time is right, do you want to show some more of your art?”
“Yes. Here in Boston. No flying,” Hayden said as she munched on a biscuit. “Pardon me.”
“No flying. I think we can find many ways around that if we plan well. That’s why we keep India around.” I patted India vigorously on the back as payback for the snickering.
“I’m determined to become your first Bostonian art collector and customer,” Penelope said. I could tell she was starting to fade now, her eyes drooping a bit at the outer corners.
“Thank you, Penelope. Now, we should unpack and let you get some rest.” I stood and took her hand. “Please, are you sure you don’t want to spend a few nights at my house? You’ll be close to your own place but not alone.” I thought of how to bring up the funeral arrangements without sounding too forward. “Penelope, don’t hesitate to have the three of us help you with anything you need done regarding Edward’s funeral. We’re happy to help.” I knew I could speak with such certainty for all of us.
“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind. My lawyers will handle the practical matters, and Edward and I have living wills. His is pretty specific about all the details, which helps. Thanks, both of you, for asking. I’m fine here.” She paused and then glanced at Hayden. “But if you’d come over tomorrow and work on your painting, that’d be wonderful. If you have time, of course.”
“Okay. I have time. Even if I didn’t, I would reschedule.” Hayden leaned sideways and hugged Penelope. “Call us if you feel lonely.” She tilted her head. “Please.”
“I will, dear. I promise.”
“Good.”
As we said good-bye and left Penelope’s house, India wiped at suddenly damp cheeks. “Damn it. I hadn’t even met the guy and I feel sad. What a terrific lady she is. Now I can brag to Erica that I met Penelope Moore.” She smiled, misty-eyed.
“We might even ask Penelope to join us, or I should say you, for dinner on Tuesday,” I said. “What do you think? Good idea?”
“Good idea,” Hayden said. “She shouldn’t be alone too much. Caregivers are practical, but they’re not family or friends.”
“True.” I knew she was also thinking about her grandmother. “Are you driving over to see Nana while I’m at the gallery tomorrow?”
“Yes.” Looking more at ease, Hayden smiled. “She wants all the details too.”
Oh, God. I reminded myself it wasn’t my place to edit Hayden. Her grandmother had certainly heard Hayden describe things that fell under the “too much information” tag many times. I just had to play it cool the next time I saw Isabella.
*
I found myself fiddling longer than usual in the bathroom when it was time for bed. We’d finished the evening by watching yet another crime show. Hayden preferred the less-gory shows, which was a relief, as I didn’t enjoy watching someone poke around in a decaying corpse too much. Now I brushed my hair for the third time, uncertain how the evening would play out. Perhaps Hayden wanted to keep her newfound freedom and sleep in her own room? Or was I overthinking it and should just crawl into bed with her, in either of our rooms? Perhaps invite her to mine?
Hayden rapped her fingers against the doorframe to the bathroom. “Greer?”
“Yes?” I dropped my hairbrush in the sink, and knowing I blushed at suddenly being so clumsy, I carefully placed it in its drawer.
“Now that we’re home, which bed are we going to use?”
So I wasn’t the only one wondering—that was a relief. Laughing, I wrapped my arms around her. “It really doesn’t matter. I think you should keep your room as your own space, no matter what, but I’d love if you slept here with me in the master suite.” I motioned toward my queen-size bed. “What do you think?”
“I like it.” Grabbing my hand, Hayden tugged me toward the bed. “Is your bed as soft as mine? Which side do you sleep on? I favor my right side.”
“Then left’s fine by me.” I grinned, suddenly so happy I thought I might self-combust. I wanted to tell her I loved her but held off. I’d never heard Hayden use the word, not even about Isabella or her brother. People said the word carelessly and often—loving food, films, items—and because Hayden never used it…the value of the word grew. I admitted to myself I also feared she might never be able to truly express it to me. Never in a million years would I want her to say it because she thought it was the polite or right thing to do. I tried to tell myself it was just a word and it shouldn’t bother me. Gazing into Hayden’s happy eyes when we crawled into bed was enough. She was here, with me, and showed me affection and attention with everything she did and said. That was all I really needed.
As Hayden began peeling off my sleepwear, I quickly forgot any misgivings, and all I could focus on was her. She ignited every single part of my body, made me lose my breath with each new caress. Hayden was my lover, my sorceress, and seemed to know just how to touch me. She found the topic of feelings mysterious, but I experienced them clearly through her hands against my skin—or saw them on her canvases.
I wrapped my arms and legs around her as she made me come over and over. Never in my life had I let my guard down like I had with her. She effortlessly broke through my defenses, and once they were down, I let them stay there. Gasping now, trying to replenish the oxygen I’d lost when my body was on fire, I clung to her.
Only when I’d regained my bearings did she allow me to reciprocate. I found it equally amazing at how responsive she was, and then I stopped analyzing and let myself drown in her. After kissing her full lips swollen, I let my mouth travel down her body. Damp, silky, her skin blushed under my caresses. I wanted to explore all of her, needed to map her entire body. Rolling her over, my hands greedy for her, I still kept my touch gentle and tried to read her response. Trembling, Hayden pushed her bottom against me, and I entered her gently. So tight, so hot, she pulled me farther into her heat.
Our sweat-soaked bodies slid against each other, the barely there friction exquisite. Her climax started something in me, a low, humming sensation, and when she pressed her bottom against me, I rode her shamelessly, our moans blending and merging.
“You smell good,” Hayden whispered as we finally settled down under the covers.
“I do?” I pressed my lips to her damp forehead.
“Yes. You smell…like Greer. It’s a unique scent.”
Unique. The word stuck with me while Hayden nuzzled my neck and found a comfortable position. I thought it fit her much better than me.
*
The next morning, I was out the door half an hour earlier than usual. Hayden was already on the roof, painting, and around ten she would drive to Isabella’s. I knew she was eager to see her grandmother, and before I left, I dashed up one more time to kiss her good-bye.
“Drive safely,” I said, cupping her bottom as she held the oil brushes away from my suit. “And give Isabella my best.”
“I will. And I will.” Grinning, Hayden kissed me back. “Don’t hit anything on your way to the gallery either.”
“I won’t.”
Hurrying down the stairs, I chuckled at Hayden’s attempt at social niceties. She’d done so well in Chicago and still stayed true to herself. I was sure some people had picked up on her directness and literal way of answering questions. So what? Some people found me rude and too direct as well, and I couldn’t care less.
India waved a thick stack of notes for me as soon as I arrived. “People love her!”
&nbs
p; “Are these all about Hayden?” I took the stack of at least fifty notes.
“Nah, some of them are about Andreas, but I’d say two-thirds are about your girl.” She winked at me.
I merely raised an eyebrow and shook my head. “I don’t own her, India.”
“I know that.” She pouted, doing her best cute-puppy face, which looked more like cute-barracuda. “But she’s your girl nonetheless. And dang, is she hooked on you. I saw it before you guys flew to Chicago, but when you came through the airport, Hayden all tense about the crowd, she still looked at you like you were the one who made the sun go up and the stars glimmer.”
“How poetic of you,” I muttered. In secret, I found the description charming, if a bit exaggerated. I sat down at my desk and read through the notes one by one. Most of them were from different art dealers, critics, and a few regular journalists interested in doing what they called a human-interest story. I wouldn’t recommend the latter to Hayden, as I could already picture their angle. If they’d done their research, they knew more of Hayden from the old tabloids. No doubt they’d portray her as some poor girl who could paint but struggled against horrible odds. She’d hate it, and I’d throttle them if they dared go near her.
As I was on my way to lunch, my cell phone rang. I checked the display and frowned when I saw Oliver Rowe’s name.
“Greer Landon,” I answered, an ice-cold lump forming in my belly.
“Hi, it’s Oliver. Hayden’s brother.”
“Of course. What can I do for you?”
He sounded rigid as he continued. “I hope I’m wrong about this, but I think Mother’s planning something. Knowing her, whatever she’s up to can’t be good for Hayden.”
“Now what?” I couldn’t believe the gall of this woman. “What have you heard?”
“Actually, it was my father, who seems to finally get that my mother’s obsessed with Hayden. Or I should say, obsessed when it comes to controlling Hayden. He said she was frantic this morning and determined to, as he put it, ‘Put a stop to this unseemly affair Hayden is in.’ She was out the door before he could stop her.”