THE CHILL in the air is more refreshing than cold. I’m busy looking at my phone. My doctor’s office emailed me a bunch of information about IVF and how to find a donor. My eyes widen as I look through it all. There are a ton of big numbers -- ten thousand dollars, forty thousand unique donors.
It’s too much for me to try to take in right now, especially if I’m supposed to be on this date. I put away my phone as I stand at the entrance to the park, waiting for Charlie.
When I see him walking my way, I notice, he’s wearing a simple white t-shirt and jeans, his biceps bulging. I try not to stare at him as I hand him an iced coffee, but his green eyes are all over me.
“Thanks,” he says, eyes roving down my figure. “You look… nice.”
“Yeah, well,” I say, blushing as I play off the compliment. I swear, when Charlie’s around, my cheeks are a permanent shade of tomato red, made even more apparent because of my fair ginger complexion.
“Shall we?” he says, nodding toward the park.
“Sure.” I have to hold onto my coffee with both hands to keep from reaching out for his with one of mine.
I sip my iced coffee, ignoring the feeling that something’s different between us as we stroll down one of the paths, under a banner declaring this the Piedmont Park Arts Festival. Each side of the path is dotted with individual artists’ booths or larger showcases like Amy’s, which take up several tents measuring twelve by twelve feet each.
“I like that,” he says, pointing out a piece. It’s mostly just colors on a canvas, but there’s a pleasing vibe to it.
“Yeah?” I ask.
He turns to look at me, his green eyes holding a question as we keep walking. “You don’t like it?”
I shrug. “It’s not my style.”
“Ohh, I see. It needs to be your style,” he says, eyes twinkling. “I didn’t know you had a style.” I love the hint of a tease in his voice, and the way he smiles when he says it.
“I prefer portraits,” I say as we walk. “Like… oh, like that one.”
I point to a portrait of a young man as we walk past it. It’s kind of elaborate, with a very formal background, but I like the concentration I can see on the model’s face. The emotions come through, and that’s what I love about portraits.
“Mmm. Fancy,” he says. His tone is still teasing.
I raise my head and straighten my shoulders, refusing to let him get the better of me.
“Well, it’s different than colored blobs on a canvas,” I say.
“What? I liked the colored blobs,” he says good-humoredly.
I sip my iced coffee, but I can’t help smiling.
“Must be a Yankee thing,” I say.
“Yankee my ass! My family settled here in 1803, I’ll have you know,” he says, grinning.
“Really?” I ask him.
“Really. We came from France, or so I’ve been told.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed that.”
“Where are you from?” he asks me.
“Doesn’t my hair give it away? I’m as Irish as the day is long.”
“Ah, that makes sense. Do you have a bunch of brothers and sisters running around?”
“Just a little sister,” I say. “She’s super cool, into fashion and design and stuff. She lives in New York now.”
“And your mom and your dad? What do they do?”
“Is this an interview now?” I ask, returning that teasing tone as we step through the grass and my shoulder nudges against his.
“Just curious,” he says with a shrug.
“Well, it’s just my mom now. My dad died in a car crash when I was little.” I talk easily, but stare at the grass as we climb up a bit of a hill.
“I’m sorry.” I can feel his eyes on me, but I don’t look back.
“It’s not a big deal. My parents were both engineers, if you would believe it. My mom made plenty of money without my dad around.”
“And yet her daughters are both in design,” Charlie says. “Interesting.”
I smile up at Charlie. “Yeah, funny how it happens like that,” I joke. “What about your family?”
“Dad’s a pilot. Ma’s a homemaker. And you’ve met her and one of my sisters.”
“That I have.” I can feel my eyebrows raise up, remembering Ali. She hasn’t messaged me yet, and I don’t feel comfortable messaging her. I move the cold coffee cup to my other hand, wiping the water off on my jacket before taking another sip.
“What’s Ali do?”
“She’s a nurse. Just graduated two years ago.”
I turn to look at him as we walk to the top of the hill and pause there, “And your other sister?”
“Cheryl’s a homemaker, like my ma. She has a fancy English degree, which is now going to waste.”
“Is she happy?”
He looks at me, his expression meditative.
“I think so. They have a baby now, so she’s adjusting to being at home and all that.”
The mention of a baby makes my heart flip. My lips part to ask him more about his sister, but my eyes catch sight of exactly what I was looking for. I start walking, because I found Amy’s booths; they're only a few feet away. Her paintings, odd interpretations of celebrities, are unmistakable. My hands go clammy as I wonder what Charlie’s going to think of them.
“Listen, Charlie—” I begin, trying to find the words to tell him that my work is on display.
Not only that, but In Rapture is on display… a work that he may or may not have inspired. My heart beats faster, feeling the insecurity rise up.
“Gracccceeee!” shouts Amy. She explodes like a shot from the side of her displayed work. I nearly fall backward as she hugs me. A smile creeps onto my face, and some of the nerves are put to ease as I hug her back just as fiercely. I miss her so damn much. She’s tall and willowy, with long brown hair that’s intricately braided. Her colorful caftan dress blows with the slight breeze, the walking definition of free love.
“Hey, Amy,” I say into her shoulder.
She releases me, beaming.
“I’m so glad you came! Your paintings are really garnering a lot of interest, sister!” Her eyes dart over to Charlie. “Is this your gentleman friend?”
Charlie looks at me, and I blush.
“Uhh… Amy, this is Charlie. Charlie, this is Amy. Amy is an amazing painter who I went to college with.”
“Nice to meet you, Charlie,” Amy says, shaking his hand. “And I might be a professional, but this lady right here,” she says, throwing her arm around my shoulder and leading me over to my work. “She’s the one getting all the attention!”
We stop right in front of In Rapture. I blush to the roots of my hair. Charlie does a double take, seeing that the model in my picture looks very much like me. I can practically see the wheels turning in his head. His brow raises as he also sees that the model is taking incredible pleasure in the oral sex that a man, who looks like him, is giving her.
“Oh, I’m sure that no one noticed me,” I protest. “What about your work? The Celine Dion one?”
I notice that Charlie is still staring at my painting. He moves a little closer, as if to affirm that it is me.
“Celine Dion Cadence is doing really well,” Amy admits. “But In Rapture really is catching everyone’s eye.”
“It’s yours?” Charlie asks, finally looking away. Unfortunately, he looks at me instead.
“Yeah,” is all I can manage. My heart is trying to climb up my throat and escape.
“How much?” he says. “To buy it, I mean.”
“Uhhh…” I did not expect that.
“Two hundred dollars,” Amy says. “At least that’s what I told the guys that were asking for a price tag earlier. They said they would be back with cash.”
I give Amy a startled look, and she shrugs. What the hell? She can’t be serious.
“What? He asked,” she says. “Oh, let me go talk to these people.” It’s only when she leaves us that I realize there are other peopl
e around us, and many looking at my painting.
When I look back at Charlie, he has his wallet out.
“I only have one hundred on me, but—” he starts. I put my hand over his, shaking my head.
“You’re not really going to buy that, are you?” I ask, my voice clearly showing my disbelief.
He looks me dead in the eye. “I am.”
It takes a moment for me to digest his reply. I stare at the painting, feeling so shocked. “I’ll just give it to you, if you like it that much.” I whisper the words. He doesn’t have to pay me. I don’t want him to.
“I do like it, but I’m going to pay you for it.”
“Where would you hang it?” I tease him, finally looking back at him. “In your bedroom?”
“Maybe I will.” He smirks at me and then leans in a little closer, lowering his voice. “Maybe it’ll give me some inspiration,” he says, his eyes still on mine.
For a second, I can’t stop thinking about what it would inspire him to do. My body heats, igniting with desire as I bite my lip, and see his gaze drop to my lips. I suddenly realize that I want him to kiss me. No, need him to kiss me.
I lean in just a fraction, rising on my tiptoes to kiss him.
My body is on fire and part of its anxiety that he’s not feeling what I’m feeling. But as I close my eyes, his lips mold against mine. The touch is electric, filling my whole body with a restless energy. The kiss is slow, not pushing for anything more, but that just makes it all the sweeter.
When we pull away, my whole body is covered with goosebumps, my breathing labored. I look into his face, unable to pretend that I’m not having downright sinful thoughts about him.
What really gets me hot, though, is the fact that the same expression is on his face. Our eyes meet, and it’s so intense that I wimp out.
I look away and laugh, and the tension breaks.
“Was that part of your apology?” he asks mildly.
“Maybe,” I say with a shrug. I smile, although it’s a bit forced. “We should move on. There’s a lot more to see.”
Charlie looks around and sees that some of the items on the wall have a Post-it next to them, denoting their status as “SOLD.” He moves over to Amy and talks to her briefly. She makes eye contact with me, cocking her brow.
I don’t even care anymore about the damn painting; I’m just trying to settle down. He comes back to me, a cocky smile playing on his lips.
“Alright. I had to buy some art,” he says in a confident tone. “We can go now, though.”
“Is that so?” I ask him as he reaches for my hand. I have to look down as his fingers intertwine with mine.
“Yeah. Come on, I think I smell funnel cakes. I could use some sugar and lard to keep the coffee from eating through my stomach lining.” He leads the way, acting as if this is normal.
I laugh and follow him deeper into Piedmont Park.
On a date with my fake boyfriend.
A man who isn’t right for me, and I know it.
A man who doesn’t want the same things I want.
It’s stupid of me. I’m wasting time.
But I can’t help thinking he’s a man who’d make a cute baby…
CHAPTER 16
Charlie
* * *
AS I WALK Grace back to our cars, I can’t help thinking that I don’t remember the last time I took a day off.
There’s a reason I work my ass off. I almost told my sweetheart no. The word was right there, ready to roll off my tongue. But I couldn’t disappoint her. And I know I need to make a change.
I need to go after what I want, and I want her.
“I can’t believe you bought it,” Grace mumbles, and her cheeks look like they're permanently stained red. She keeps bringing it up. I had no idea how talented she was. She keeps saying painting is just a hobby and a stress reliever that she doesn’t want to make into a job, but I’d love to put her to work, painting more… of those.
I lean close to her ear, letting my hot breath tickle her neck and sending goosebumps over every inch of her body as I say, “I can’t believe you painted it.”
Her shoulders shake with a soft laugh and she pushes me away slightly, a bit of space coming between us as we walk through the grass of the park. I’m quick to close the gap, grabbing her hand and giving it a squeeze before pulling her back to me.
“Four days… I don’t see why I couldn’t just take it home tonight,” my voice carries through the dark night.
“You can hang it in your kitchen,” she says with a wide grin as she looks straight ahead.
“Yeah, I’m always looking for something to eat in there,” I respond without thinking.
Grace rips her hand from mine, covering her face with a laugh before shaking her head and saying, “That is not what I was going for.” I love that sound. She practically skips a few steps to get back to me, that beautiful smile still etched on her face. My chest feels warm and full.
But I know this is temporary. She just wanted someone for support. It feels like a date, but a girl like her needs more than a hot dog, cola and funnel cake.
This doesn’t count as a date. Although I damn sure walked away with a parting gift: a sweet kiss and a glimpse at a naughty side of her. But the night's still young.
The clouds seem to dim a bit more as the noises from the artists packing up behind us fade. We’re some of the last people to leave.
She clears her throat in a polite fashion as we pass the last tent. The sky’s darkening and dry lightning is in the far-off distance, brightening the horizon before leaving us in darkness with a loud crash. It’s comforting though, and each time it happens, Grace steps a little closer to me. Her small body practically molded to mine as we leave the festival and head to the parking lot.
I love the warmth of her body, the feminine sounds of her gasps every time the lightning cracks across the sky. It doesn’t take any effort at all to wrap my arm around her waist and pull her closer.
I don’t miss the way she perks up and deliberately avoids looking at me. She makes me smile. And it’s been a long damn time since that’s happened.
“Did you have fun?” she asks me shyly. I like this side of Grace. At the bar she lets herself go sometimes, but mostly she’s just joking to hide the real her.
She has a shit day, it’s just a joke.
She’s in a fight, she laughs it off.
But that insecurity is always there just beneath the surface. Out here in the open without the dim lights of the bar and alcohol, I’m not letting her get away with hiding anything. I want to know the real her. And I’m not holding back in the least.
It’s different, and I like it. I want more of it. I want more of her.
“I did,” I smile down at her as we walk through the path and finally reach the skinny sidewalk that leads us home.
The parking lot is at the very front and there’s relative privacy from a row of trees that line the sidewalk. It’s late and dark. I can hear the sound of a car starting up, and my eyes look straight ahead to see them drive off. Other than that, we're leaving the world behind us as we head home.
I clench my jaw and tighten my grip around her waist as I realize we drove separately. Motherfucker. My fingers tighten a bit on her. I don’t want this to end. I don’t want to leave here and never get this side of her back.
I just need another date. The wedding.
The anxiety squeezing my heart fades as I realize I still have her. I still have a chance to give her what she needs to stay with me.
I can hold her for a little longer, get to see more of this side of her. She’s looking for Mr. Right, but I can keep her occupied until he comes along.
Crack!
“Oh!” Grace jumps slightly as we walk across the pavement and she nearly falls. A rough chuckle tickles the back of my throat as I hold her closer. She’s sweet like this. And even more tempting in my arms.
She doesn’t leave my hold right away, her soft blue eyes looking into mine. Her br
eath comes in faster, and it makes her breasts rise with each short intake. I can feel the spark between us, the pull that’s ignited and pushing me closer to her, wanting to feel more of her, all of her. It’s not until the steps of other attendants leaving the festival get louder, as the people get closer, that she leaves my arms.
She tucks her hair behind her ear, breaking my heated gaze and brushing it off like what just happened wasn’t affecting her.
I can hear the smart ass comment, the joke coming out of her mouth before she even says it. But I turn her in my grasp, gripping her hips and pulling her to my hard chest and crash my lips against hers. Silencing whatever bullshit was going to come out.
I want her. And she’s going to fucking know it.
At first her lips are hard, caught by surprise, but she molds them to mine and parts that sweet seam, opening her hot mouth for me. She moans as I deepen the kiss, her small hands gripping my shirt.
I don’t want to leave with only that little blip of a taste of her. The way her car’s parked near mine gives us a bit of privacy. I want her to know what I can give her.
She may want marriage and babies, and I’m sure as fuck not ready for that... But I can get her addicted to something else.
More than an innocent kiss.
My hands grip her hips and I hear her ass smack against my car as I splay my hand across her back and pull her against me. My dick’s hard in an instant.
I don’t know what happened. One minute she’s all for it, kissing me back with just as much passion.
Then next, she breaks the kiss too soon, the moment gone as she steps out of my grasp and leaving me pining after her. There's a chill between us.
“We’re just friends, right?” Grace’s voice is soft, full of feigned strength, the vulnerability shining through. “This is just fun?” Her eyes dart up to mine as she starts walking to her car, her boots stomping on the pavement as she tries to catch her breath and blow off what just happened. I quicken my pace to catch up to her and hold her in my arms, searching her face for the reason she just took off.
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