by Katie Allen
“Why’d you cover it up? I was expecting a hideous mess and was dreading having to tell you that.” She waved a hand at it. “This perfection should never be covered.”
“I thought it was good, but I wasn’t sure.” He lifted his hands in a shrug before dropping them to his head. His fingers plowed through his hair, leaving it rumpled and mussed in a way that made him illogically hotter. “Late last night, I kept wanting to work on it some more, but then I was scared that I’d go too far and wreck it, but I couldn’t leave it alone, so I put the box on top of it and walked away for a few minutes, figuring that the break would help me see it more clearly. When I came back to it, I was too scared to lift the box up. What if, once I saw it with fresh eyes, it was a—like you said—hideous mess? So I left the box covering it and went to bed...well, went to couch.”
She felt a jolt of guilt—one of many she’d had about stealing his bed. “I hate that you’re stuck on the couch.”
“Eh.” He brushed off her concern. “I couldn’t really sleep, anyway. Mostly I stared at the ceiling and resisted the urge to go stare at the box some more.”
Although his words didn’t soothe her worries about stealing his bed, she huffed a laugh. “Stare at the box? Not the painting?”
“I knew I wouldn’t have the nerve to move the box.” One corner of his mouth tugged upward in a wry, self-deprecating way. “After a few hours of that, I got up and went for a run.”
“Leaving the box there so I’d be dying of curiosity all morning.”
Her grumble made him snort. “All morning? More like an hour.”
Although she made a face at him, she couldn’t argue with the truth. Picking up the box, she reluctantly and carefully placed it over the painting.
“Hey! I thought it was too good to cover ever again?” he said indignantly as she headed for the gallery. In all the new-painting excitement, she’d almost forgotten that there was a show that afternoon.
Unlocking the door, she opened it, waiting for him to cross the studio before moving into the gallery and disabling the alarm. “Now I’m worried that something might happen to it if we just leave it out in the open. Until I get it safely framed, we need to keep it protected.”
“What could happen? The studio elves might step on it with their big elf boots or something?” When he laughed, she gave a little shrug, knowing it wasn’t that logical but unable to leave something so beautiful exposed and vulnerable, even if it was in the protection of the studio.
“I don’t know. What if I’m carrying a cup of coffee, and I trip, and the coffee goes flying across the studio and hits the painting?”
“Unlikely.”
“But possible.”
Tilting his head as if considering that, he finally gave a nod. “We’ll keep it covered.”
“Good.” As she moved to her desk, she glanced over her shoulder at him. “That painting really is amazing.”
“Yeah?” A proud, happy smile stretched across his face, the rare vulnerable one that made her want to cross the short distance between them and hug him hard. “It’s really good?”
“It’s really, really good.” She held up the to-do list. “Ready to get to work?”
Despite his theatrical groan, his happy grin, the one that made the butterflies in Annabelle’s stomach do somersaults, remained firmly in place. “Let’s do this.”
* * *
“We might survive this after all.” Louis’s whispered words made her smile.
“We just might.” After glancing around at the slowly dwindling crowd, she peeked at her cell phone to see the time. “Half an hour to go before we can start shoving people out the door.”
“Lots of sales. Velvet’s going to be happy.”
“Yep. And no Max. That made things easier. He’s a perfectionist when it comes to his daughter’s shows.” His absence had been unexpected, too. Normally, Max never missed a minute of one of Velvet’s showings.
Louis’s soft chuckle stopped abruptly as he gave her shoulder a gentle nudge, moving her a few inches to the right. “You spoke too soon.”
With great effort, she kept her groan trapped inside as she spotted Max making his way toward them. Resisting the urge to run and hide for the next twenty-eight minutes, she braced herself and stood still, waiting for Max to reach her. “Here we go.”
When Louis didn’t respond to her muttered words, she glanced at him and saw his broad back sneaking away.
“Louis! Get back here!” Her whisper-yell only made him move faster, and she glared at his back, wishing she could turn her eyeballs into laser beams to set him on fire—just a little, enough to smart. His abandonment made her want to sneak away even more.
“Annabelle.” It was too late to escape. Max was right in front of her, and he looked furious. “Where is the park scene?”
“What?” It wasn’t at all what she’d expected him to complain about, so it took a moment to understand what he was talking about. “It’s right there.” She gestured toward where it hung on the partial wall in the center of the gallery.
“Not that one! The other park scene! The piece that was supposed to be the highlight of this show, you idiot!” His voice rose close to a shout, and people close by turned to stare. Annabelle had never seen him so upset. Across the gallery, she saw Louis reversing his direction and heading back their way, his expression cold and hard. It was rare he became angry, but by the looks of it, he was pissed.
“Max, lower your voice.” She focused on the red-faced man in front of her, wanting to get him settled down before Louis closed in. As much as she’d love to see Max getting thrown out on his ass, it’d be better for the gallery to keep dramatic scenes to a minimum. Still, she wasn’t about to let the “idiot” comment slide. “And watch your mouth. You’re on probation with Louis, remember?”
His jaw snapped shut with an audible crack. When he spoke, the words gritted out from between his clenched teeth. His voice was quieter, however, and he wasn’t flinging insults, so Annabelle ignored his obvious irritation. “I need to know where that painting is, the other park scene. I’d like to buy it. For Velvet. She loves that one and didn’t want to sell it, but she needed another piece for the show.”
“Last strike, Max. Get out.” Louis’s tone was cool and completely serious, making goose bumps pop on her spine. Normally, he was such a goofball that it always came as a shock when hard-ass Louis appeared. Her stomach butterflies seemed to really like this stern version of him, and she resisted pressing a hand to her belly as they tumbled and flipped.
The dark red color drained from Max’s face, leaving him pale. “But I... The painting—”
“Should’ve thought about that before you came charging in here, yelling insults at Annabelle. Out. Now.” When Max didn’t move but just continued to gape at him, Louis seized his arm and hauled him toward the door.
“Wait!” Max yelped, looking at Louis’s set face and then over his shoulder at Annabelle. “What about that painting! You can’t do this. I’m Velvet’s father!” He seemed completely flustered, and Annabelle had a tough time keeping the giddy smile off her face. It was as much fun watching gross Max get tossed out of the gallery as she’d expected, especially since Louis was in his most panty-melting ferocious state, so the whole event was worth the minor scene it had caused among the remaining guests.
When they reached the door, Annabelle hurried over to watch out the window. She half expected Max to come charging right back inside after Louis escorted him out, but Louis said something in Max’s ear that made the older man’s eyes widen as he frantically shook his head. When Louis came back inside, he was alone.
His eyes scanned over the small crowd before finding her. He immediately strode toward her, the intensity of his expression making her breath catch.
“You okay?” His gaze raked up and down her body, as if checking to see if Max’s insult had physical
ly harmed her somehow.
“I’m fine.” Shifting closer so she could lower her voice, she finally released the grin she’d been holding back. “In fact, I’m much better than fine. I’m awesome. Watching you toss Max out of here was the best thing ever.”
His stone-faced expression finally cracked, and a peek of the usual Louis came through. “That was pretty satisfying, wasn’t it?”
The sound of hushed but avid chatter pulled Annabelle’s attention away from Louis, and she tried not to grimace. “I’d better get on damage control.”
Turning, he scanned the crowd before raising one shoulder in a shrug. “Eh. They’re fine. A little gossip won’t hurt the gallery’s reputation.”
She had to agree. No one looked horrified or traumatized, but there were a lot of satisfied and gleeful expressions. She still made a final loop through the crowd, thanking people for coming and fending off their probing questions about what Max had done to get thrown out.
“I’ve never seen Louis look so furious,” one woman said, fanning her face with her hand. Amused, Annabelle wondered if she knew she was making the universal gesture for “he’s so hot.” “Usually he’s such a sweetheart. I didn’t think he had it in him.”
That seemed to be the consensus of pretty much everyone remaining in the gallery. Annabelle managed to get through the final fifteen minutes of the showing by listening and, when a response was required, making ambiguous sounds that could be taken however the other person wanted to. By the time the last attendee had left and she was locking the front door, Annabelle had never been so grateful for an event to end.
She leaned against the door and took a deep breath. Louis was in the back room wrapping things up with the caterers, and Annabelle took advantage of the empty gallery. As she exhaled, her spinning thoughts began to settle, but she couldn’t seem to get the image of a ferocious Louis booting Max from the gallery out of her head. The way he immediately looked for her after he came back inside, as if he urgently needed to see that she was okay, made her insides buzz with excitement. She needed to get control of herself, or she was going to jump on the poor man as soon as she saw him again.
“Let’s go to the gym.” His voice made her eyes pop open, and her stomach swooped from his nearness and an illogical fear that he could read her lustful thoughts about him. He was standing just a few feet away, his usual relaxed, amused expression firmly in place.
It’s just Louis, she told herself, trying to calm her racing heart. You’ve managed to work with him for months and months without losing self-control. Just because he went into beast mode with Max doesn’t change anything. Despite her internal lecture, though, she knew that seeing him like that, and knowing that he’d kicked Max out to protect her, did change things. She could feel her self-control slipping, even as she tried to cling to it.
“Gym? You with me, Annabelle Shay?” His tone had turned quizzical with a slight singsong. “Hello? You okay? Did the whole thing with Max and the gossipy crowd break you?”
She shook her head, using the motion to break her out of her frozen stance. It was possible for her to move without leaping on Louis. It was. She was a grown woman, not a giddy fan going backstage for the first time. “Sorry. Zoned out there for a second. It’s been an...interesting afternoon. What were you saying about the gym?”
From his easy smile, he seemed to have accepted her explanation of why she’d stared at him in a panic. “That we should go there.”
“Now?”
“Yep.” Reaching for her hand, he pulled her toward the studio door. “I have some pent-up energy I need to burn off.”
Annabelle allowed him to lead her through the studio and into their living quarters. After all, she had some pent-up energy to burn off, too, although she was pretty sure hers had a different cause. Either way, she could use some time on the treadmill to run off her sexual tension.
Louis glanced at her and smiled, and she swallowed a groan. With all the lusty thoughts he inspired in her, she was going to have to run for hours.
* * *
As soon as she dropped her water bottle into the treadmill’s cup holder, she saw the guy who’d tried to teach her how to stretch earlier in the week. Quickly looking away, she grabbed her earbuds and focused on the treadmill display, hoping he wouldn’t take the accidental eye contact as an invitation.
“Hey.” The voice came from next to her, and she glanced over in surprise, half expecting it to be the stretch guy even as her logical brain knew he couldn’t have crossed the gym so quickly. When she saw Louis, she immediately smiled, the usual gladness running through her at the sight of him, even if she had just left him by the men’s locker room door a few minutes ago.
“Hey.” Her smile faded as he arrowed up the speed on the treadmill next to hers. “You’re going to get blisters if you try to run on that leg.”
Although he scrunched up his face, he lowered the speed to a fast walk.
“No weights today?” she asked, settling into an easy warm-up jog.
“Nope. It’s Saturday. It’s packed in there. The testosterone is thick, like manly sludge. I’m waiting for you, so at least I don’t have to suffer in there alone.” He took three steps and then jammed the stop button. “Okay. This isn’t going to work. I’ll never keep up with you if you’re running and I’m stuck walking. Let’s go row instead.”
He got off the treadmill as she tried to decide whether to laugh or be annoyed. It was a common reaction around Louis. “You don’t have to go the same speed as me,” she said, although she started slowing down the belt. Once he decided on something, it was nearly impossible to win the argument. After the day—and week—she’d just had, she didn’t have the mental energy to fight him, especially over something she didn’t have strong feelings about. She honestly didn’t care if she ran or rowed, as long as she was moving. Still, she had to at least put up some token resistance to show he couldn’t immediately get his way about everything. “Moving at different speeds while staying next to each other is the whole point of treadmills.”
The puppy eyes came out. “Walking is boring. Please can we row?”
“Fine.” Grabbing her water bottle, she walked with him over to the rowing machines. “I spoil you. You know that, right? You’re impossibly spoiled.”
Catching her free hand, he tugged her close enough to kiss the tip of her nose. It was a playful gesture, but it still made her stop in her tracks, her mind blanking as she stared at him. Louis had just kissed her—and at the gym, of all places. “I know you treat me better than I could ever deserve, Annabelle Shay.”
The only response she could manage was a sort of half grunt, half snort that sounded a bit like a strangled pig. Flustered, she dropped his gaze and focused on adjusting her rowing machine to fit her. Once it was set, she started warming up with slow pulls, hoping to settle her racing thoughts with the repetitive motion.
“Where’s your phone?” he asked, matching her rhythm on the machine next to hers.
“In my locker.” She gave him a curious glance. “Why? Did you need to use it?”
His forehead wrinkled in confusion as he gestured toward the side of her head. “No. If you don’t have your phone, what are you listening to?”
It took her a moment to understand his question. “Oh! The earbuds. They’re just for show, so people—well, guys—don’t talk to me.”
“Huh. Your plan doesn’t seem to be working very well.”
Her muscles were beginning to feel warm and liquid, so she rowed a little faster. When she noticed that Louis matched her speed, she upped it another notch. With her competitive streak, she had a feeling they were both going to have an intense workout. “I don’t expect it to work on you. There’s nothing that would keep you from talking to me. Getting you to be quiet is an impossible dream.”
“Yeah, it is.” Not looking at all offended, he increased his speed along with hers. “
Does the earbud force field work with people who aren’t me?”
“Usually.” Her breathing was getting a little heavier, but she tried to hide it from Louis. She wasn’t about to show that their pace was affecting her, especially when he looked as unruffled as if he were lounging on the couch. “Not always. Remember from a few days ago...?” She tilted her head toward the stretch-master guy.
Louis narrowed his eyes at the man across the gym, and Annabelle couldn’t look away from his face. When he glared like that, his thick lashes shadowed his eyes, turning them even darker than usual to a stormy black. Without looking away from the other man, Louis asked, “If you don’t wear the earbuds here, do guys hit on you a lot?”
“All the time.” Her nose wrinkled at the memory of all the times she’d forgotten her earbuds. “Especially if I’m lifting weights. They’re always offering to ‘help.’”
“That has to be annoying.” Even though his voice sounded casually conversational, his expression threatened murder.
“It is what it is.” Since she’d figured out a way to discourage all but the most persistent, it wasn’t an immediate concern. “I did appreciate the save last time.”
He finally stopped glaring at the guy across the gym and turned his head to look at her, never losing his rowing rhythm. At least he was starting to sweat a little, just enough to make strands of hair cling to his forehead. Not wanting to be called out for ogling his sweaty skin like a creeper, Annabelle yanked her gaze away and met his eyes. His expression softened as he looked at her. “Anytime you need a save, my beautiful wife, I’m happy to help. If you need me to hang around you all the time to keep the hungry dogs away, I will do that for you. I’ll be your possessive husband, your constant accessory, your Chihuahua in your purse, your—”
“Okay! That’s enough. It’s starting to get weird.” Her laugh came out as a breathless huff. “Aren’t we together pretty much all the time now anyway?”
“Yes, and I like it that way.” It was his turn to increase his speed, and she mentally cursed him as she rowed faster to keep up. “Still, there are times when I won’t be there.” He was silent for several moments, long enough that Annabelle figured the conversation was over. When he spoke again, she glanced at him in surprise. “I’ll get you a ring.”