She spoke softly. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be a thirteen-year-old girl dropped off with her physicist father and his physicist wife with their brainy daughter? I was the black sheep in that family. I could never fit in, never live up to what they expected, never be understood. And my mother never came back. All I got was the occasional card with a ‘Hello, having a great time! Love, Mom.’”
His warm hand rubbed her back. She glanced over to find him regarding her with such sympathy that she had to look away before she broke down sobbing. She didn’t want sympathy. She felt pathetic enough all on her own.
“Your father was so adamant,” he said quietly. “I should’ve checked with you first.”
“My father never thinks about anything as inconsequential as my feelings. My mother wanted to connect, so he made it happen. Perfectly logical. The hell with me and what I feel.”
He pulled her into his arms, and she let him, needing that small bit of comfort.
Her voice came out sounding choked. “Did you ever once consider my feelings?”
“I was all about your feelings. That’s what this whole thing was about.”
“You butt in where you don’t belong. Just doing…whatever.” She pulled away and stood. “Forget it. Why am I even talking to you about this? I’m not going. You can explain to my mother and everyone else why you’ve staged a fake gallery showing and send them home.”
Yes, that was the right thing to do. She might not have had a say in this whole gallery thing, but she did have a say in going along with the deception, and she wouldn’t.
He stood, his eyes pleading with her. “Amber, please. I’ve got everything planned. A lot planned.”
“Enjoy your party,” she said in a tight voice. She turned to go.
“Wait!”
She rushed out the door, sailed through her apartment, ignored her friends’ questions, and locked herself in her bedroom where she cried big, heaving sobs like she hadn’t cried since she was thirteen years old.
Chapter Sixteen
Barry knew he’d crossed the line, but damn if he was going to cancel everything now. He’d spent more than a week lugging Amber’s paintings around to galleries in the city. He’d hand carried five paintings of what he felt were her best work, along with a photo album with pictures of the rest. One by one, the galleries had turned him down. They were idiots not to see the artistic merit. He thought they were fantastic when he’d first seen them, even before he knew he had a chance with her. She was a brilliant artist. But like many brilliant artists, she wasn’t yet appreciated.
It was when he finally returned the paintings to the guest room at his mom’s house that his mom had given him the solution.
“Why don’t you just rent a gallery?” she asked when he sat at the kitchen table to join her for lunch. “Many artists start out with a patron who hosts them.”
“They do?”
“Why the hell not?” she asked with a smile.
That’s what he loved about his mom. She was a why-the-hell-not kind of person. That left open all kinds of possibilities in the world. For the first time, he felt hope. He would host a show, let the world see Amber’s brilliance, show her that it wasn’t just him that liked it. He’d prove he’d never once tried to build her up falsely, only encouraged her because he believed in her. A few phone calls later, he had a space booked. The gallery was normally closed on Mondays, but was willing to rent the space out for special events. And this would be a special event. He went all-out because this wasn’t just about her. This was about them. And he had to win her back.
He’d gotten in touch with Kate to collect email addresses for all of Amber’s friends, and emailed Amber’s dad to collect the family email addresses. Her dad had been very insistent that this was the kind of occasion her mother would want to attend. Bare had agreed. It seemed that having her mother recognize her as an artist could only be a good thing. He hadn’t known how bad things were between Amber and her mother. He’d make it up to her. He’d do whatever it took to be with the woman he loved.
He snagged his cell and texted Kate, begging her to get Amber to the party. Kate responded immediately with: I’ll get her to the party if you’ll get Ian off my back. I’m a single female who wants to stay open to other male possibilities.
He replied: Done.
When his brother ventured back into the apartment, empty beer bottle and half-eaten bag of cheese puffs in hand, Barry told him, “You have to leave Kate alone. I promised her you would.”
Ian moaned. “I’m in love with her. How can I leave her alone?”
“I’m sorry, but she’s not in love with you.”
Ian moaned again. Barry couldn’t deal with the moaning. He had enough of his own misery to deal with. He tossed a Dancing Cow coupon at his brother. “Go drown your miseries.”
Ian sulked out the door. Barry returned to his laptop, looking up realtor websites. He wanted to buy a house. One with wide open spaces and lots of light to display Amber’s paintings. One that had room for an art studio. One he hoped to share with Amber.
~ ~ ~
The next day, Sunday, Barry went to a series of open houses in Eastman, Field Ridge, and Clover Park. Nothing seemed quite right. Some had open spaces, but not enough light. Some had light, but no open spaces, and few had the ideal place for an art studio. But then he got to a renovated colonial in Clover Park that looked from the outside like it had promise. It was well maintained, and the website description said it had been updated and had a detached garage. With some work, he thought, maybe the detached garage could become an art studio.
He walked in the open front door and was startled to see Kevin standing in the entryway wearing a suit. The same Kevin that had punched him, twice, in an effort to take his part in the play.
“Kevin,” he said.
Kevin handed him a brochure. “Hi, Bare. Let me know if you have any questions.”
That was it? Hi, let me know if you have any questions?
“Actually, Kevin, yes, I do have a question.” Barry wasn’t going to just roll over and forget what happened. He hadn’t confronted Kevin before because he’d been stuck in that wretched victim mode, but now with no Amber and a whole hell of a lot of misery in his life, he was fully prepared to confront him. He didn’t care that there were other people milling about the house.
His voice rose in aggravation. “Why the hell would you ever think it was okay to punch someone over a part in a play?”
Kevin looked around uneasily. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
In a rare fit of temper, Barry grabbed the guy by the tie and got in his face. “You know exactly what I mean. You punched me in the face, and I’ve got a mind to return the favor right here in front of your clients.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Kevin said. “Please.”
Barry dropped his hold on him. Kevin straightened his tie.
“You have exactly thirty seconds to come up with a real convincing apology,” Barry warned.
“Not here,” Kevin said. “Follow me.”
Kevin led him outside away from the people milling around. “I’m very sorry, and I know I should’ve said that a lot sooner. I was jealous because…” He stared at the ground. “Zac was cheating on me. I know it wasn’t with you, but every time he flirted with you it just felt so in my face, you know?”
Barry didn’t reply. He still didn’t think that excused violence.
“Zac always gave me so much attention when I was the lead, and then you were.” Kevin blew out a breath. “I know you’re the better actor. There’s no excuse. I’m so sorry. Me, of all people, should know better. I’ve taken my share of punches.”
Barry pressed his lips in a tight line. Seemed they had that in common.
“Yeah, okay,” Barry finally said.
“What can I do for you?” Kevin asked. “You looking to buy a house? I can help you. I find out all the latest listings before they’re open to the public. I could get you in early, so you’d avoid a biddin
g war.”
“I don’t know if I want you for a realtor,” Barry said. “It just doesn’t feel right handing over money to the guy that gave me two black eyes.”
“You don’t have to pay me,” Kevin said. “I’ll do it for no commission.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“It’s the least I can do.”
Barry shook his head, turned, and went back in the house. He started walking around, taking in the space. Lots of large windows. Sunlight streaming in.
Kevin appeared at his side and set about a hard sell, pointing out all of the home’s great features. And when Barry mentioned the need for an art studio, Kevin showed him the detached garage that had been used as a woodworking workshop.
“Do you like it?” Kevin asked. “Do you want to check with Amber first?”
“I do need to check in with her,” Barry said. Especially since we’re not technically together.
Kevin handed him his card. “Call me anytime for a second showing with her. No commission. I mean it.”
Barry took the card. “All right. Thanks, Kevin.” He turned to go.
“Are you going to do Grease next year?” Kevin asked.
Barry opened the front door, not bothering to turn around. “Sure am.”
“I’ll be in the front row cheering you on,” Kevin said.
Barry turned. “You’ll be on stage, right next to me, where you belong.”
Kevin smiled. “Thanks, Bare.”
~ ~ ~
Kate was literally driving Amber insane. Her sister spent the entire week bugging her morning, noon, and night about the party. Kate tried to convince her of the merits of such an event, emailed her articles on the benefits of a patron-sponsored art showing, and texted her repeated demands to go, even when they were sitting right next to each other.
Finally Amber had enough. The party was tomorrow, and Kate had reached a fever pitch of harassment.
“Kate, why do you care so much if I go to this stupid party?” she exclaimed.
Kate didn’t bother looking up from her laptop. “Because I promised.”
“Promised Bare?”
“Yes.”
She sat next to her sister. “Why would you do that? Why would you take his side? I’m your sister.”
Kate regarded her solemnly. “I want to see you happy. This will make you happy.”
“How? My mother will be there.”
“Who cares about her? Barry is who will make you happy. You’re going.”
Amber snorted. “You’re going to have to drag me out of this apartment kicking and screaming to go to that party.”
Kate raised a brow. “The idea has merit. I’ll contact Steph and Daisy.”
In the end, it was a note slipped under her door that night that finally got to her. It said: SUM Together (Bare + Amber) > SUM (NOT) Together (Bare + Amber).
Kate took one look at it and cried, “He’s so romantic! He means you guys are more together than you are apart. Amber, if you don’t go to this party, I swear I will never let you sleep again. I will keep you up every night playing my iBone.”
Amber groaned. The iBone was a trombone on Kate’s iPhone that she was completely obsessed with. She looked down at the sweet equation and felt her insides melt.
“I have to talk to Bare.”
“Yay!” Kate squealed.
Amber took the equation with her across the hall and knocked on his door.
Bare answered looking a lot better than the last time she’d seen him. He’d shaved and had a close, cropped haircut with some spikes on top. She couldn’t resist touching the spikes.
“Nice spikes,” she said.
He smiled, a lopsided smile that pulled at her heart.
“I got your equation,” she said. “Very clever.”
“I meant it,” he said in that growly voice of his that showed so much emotion.
“I know.”
He stepped back. “Come in.”
She stepped inside. “Where’s Ian?”
“He went out for some food.” He gestured to the sofa.
“I’d rather stand,” she said, crossing her arms.
He wrapped his arms around her anyway. “Afraid I’ll have my way with you?”
She shook her head. “It’s just easier to talk if I’m not, you know, in your lap.”
He let her go and sat on the sofa. “Talk to me, love.”
“Kate has been driving me insane about this party. Smart move on your part getting her involved.”
He inclined his head.
“And while I love the idea of seeing my work in a gallery…” Her throat tightened, and she cleared it. “Bare, you can’t just do whatever you think is best for me. I can’t be with someone that doesn’t give any consideration to my feelings. I don’t like you going behind my back. I don’t want you making decisions for me. This will only work if we’re on the same page. You have to talk to me before you do stuff.”
“But you said you liked surprises.” His brows scrunched in confusion. “You like when I’m in charge. You respond very well to that.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she shook her head. “That’s different. Sex is…” She blew out a breath. “Okay, yes, I like when you take charge in the bedroom—”
“Not just the bedroom.”
She held up a hand. “I like when you take charge when we’re naked, okay?”
He nodded, looking pleased she’d conceded the point.
“And sometimes I like surprises. Little surprises. Like the bouquet of paintbrushes you gave me. Or a visit to the beach. Not you’re-having-a-gallery-showing-and-your-estranged-mother-is-showing-up-to-witness-your-humiliation kind of surprise.” She suddenly felt like she couldn’t force out one more word. This was so hard to talk about. Her eyes welled up.
He stood and folded her in his arms. “It won’t be humiliating. It will be a celebration of you and your work.”
She sniffled and looked up at him. “You don’t understand. She’s a great artist who’s invited to show her work in galleries. She thinks that’s what this is, but it’s not. It’s my boyfriend had to pay the gallery to show my work. It’s completely different!”
“No, it isn’t. You’re still a great artist.”
She pulled away. “You just don’t get it!”
This had all been a mistake. She thought she could go to the party, but she couldn’t because she couldn’t face her mother. She was nowhere near her mother’s league, and she wasn’t going to let her mother witness her failure.
She rushed to the door and yelped when he grabbed her from behind. Her back hit his warm chest just as his hands clamped on her hips. She grabbed his hands and tried to pry them off her. “Bare, knock it off.”
His voice, low and close, whispered in her ear. “You said you wanted to talk, but all you’re doing is running away. That’s the second time you did that. We’re going to the bedroom where I’m in charge.”
She was so shocked her mind went absolutely blank, which gave him just enough time to sweep her off her feet and carry her into the bedroom.
~ ~ ~
Barry had his hands full of wild, struggling woman, but he still managed to lock the door of his bedroom before he set Amber gently on his bed. He’d intended to pin her there and talk to her before having his way with her, but she rolled quickly off the bed and stood on the other side of it.
She jabbed a finger at him, her eyes wide. “I’m leaving, and you can’t stop me.”
She was fast, but certainly no match for him in size. Besides, he could easily block her path to the door. He was closer to it. “I could stop you.”
She grabbed a pillow and threw it at him before making a break for it. He rounded the bed to block her path when she suddenly bolted across the bed. He managed to grab her by the ankles as she went over, and she landed on the mattress on her belly with a soft, “Oof.” That worked.
“Bare!” she hollered. “Let me go!”
She kicked at him, forcing him to g
rab both ankles and hold them pinned together out of self-preservation.
“Not until we finish talking,” he said.
She struggled like crazy, wiggling and getting nowhere, her curvy ass in shorts tempting him to touch. Her T-shirt rode up her back, exposing smooth skin and the dip of her lower back that he wanted to lick.
“This is ridiculous!” she hollered.
He looked at her wiggling ass. “This is hot.”
She stilled. A beat passed. When she didn’t move, he released one ankle to cup his hand on her ass. She didn’t protest. He nudged her legs apart and slipped a hand between her thighs. She jolted at the touch, always so responsive to him, and he felt how hot she was. He stifled a groan and had a quick battle with himself—talk and then sex. No, sex fixes everything. Yes, sex, sex, sex.
He had to touch her. His instinct won out, and he covered her, resting his weight on his arms as he pinned her beneath him.
“Amber,” he growled. “You know I love you.”
She turned her face toward his, resting her cheek on the mattress. “I know,” she said softly.
“I’m sorry I screwed things up inviting your mother, but I’m not sorry about the gallery party. That wasn’t done to hurt you. I did that because of how much I love you. Sometimes I go overboard, I know that. I just…okay, listen—”
“Hard not to listen when you’re on top of me.”
He rolled off her and pulled her in close so they were side by side facing each other. He wrapped his arms around her, still not sure if she’d make another break for it. She relaxed in his arms, and he let out a breath of relief.
He pushed her hair over her ear and cradled her face. “I’m probably going to screw up again, going overboard, making some elaborate gesture, that’s who I am, but I’ll try really hard to remember to check in with you. Just don’t…” He choked up and crushed her to him. “Don’t run away from me,” he whispered.
She whispered something back, but he couldn’t catch the words with her pressed so close. He loosened his hold.
“What did you say?” he asked.
“I said there’s no point in running away from you because you’ll just chase me down.” She gave him an impish smile.
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