“We did. But what if we also spent some of our limited time together getting to know each other in non-naked ways so, if and when this does blow up in our faces, we’ll know each other and we can say we accomplished something other than tangling the sheets?”
I twisted my lips and squinted one eye. “Non-naked, huh? I don’t suppose that means keeping our pants around our ankles while I fuck you against the wall, does it?”
She bit her lip and her face pinked with excitement rather than a blush. “That’s…” She shook her head like it pained her to finish the thought. “Not exactly what I meant. Maybe we could just…talk tonight?”
She wanted me.
I could feel it like the sun scorching my skin.
But she wasn’t wrong about getting to know each other. Hell, I wasn’t even sure it was possible to keep my constant need to touch her isolated inside her house. And if anything ever came of there being an us—but especially if it didn’t—getting to know her and feeling comfortable together could possibly help the parts of our life that did involve our daughter.
I sighed and released her. It sucked, but not everything I wanted to do to her revolved around being naked. Guiding my hands up her neck, I took either side of her face and brought her mouth to mine. It was deep and hungry, drawing from her throat another moan, and I swallowed it like my favorite elixir.
Finally, when I was done with a thorough, non-naked plundering of her mouth, I performed the herculean task of letting her go. Casually, and ignoring the screaming objections from my cock, I sank onto the tan cushions of her dainty wicker couch and crossed my legs knee to ankle. “So, what are we talking about tonight?”
The way her shoulders sagged was almost comical.
This was what she’d asked for. Clothed conversation.
But her disappointment was suffocating.
I hated it—for her.
But I also loved it—for me. Because it was proof that she was as desperate for me as I was for her.
She walked over to the couch and sat down facing me, one leg curled between us, her shin pressed to my thigh. “If it takes them forty-five minutes to deliver your pizza and you only live fifteen minutes away, we actually only have an hour.”
I brushed her hair over her shoulder, allowing my fingertips to sweep down her arms, leaving a trail of goose bumps in my wake. “Yes, but if it took me forty-five minutes to drive home, the pizza would be cold anyway. I show up with piping-hot, fresh-out-of-the-delivery-bag pizza, Trent’s going to use his superhuman skills of deduction and know I was here.”
She cut her gaze to the door and sniped, “Well, we can’t have that.”
With a thumb at her chin, I forced her to face me again. “He was a dick today. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there. But he and I talked and he’s going to keep his own shit to himself from now on. I made it clear that I’m not interested in his opinion on how I run my life.”
Her back shot straight, and her eyes flashed wide. “You…talked? About…me? What did he have to say?”
“Nothing you need to worry about. Trent’s all bark. He’ll come around.”
“I’m not so sure about that. He was pretty pissed today.”
“Okay, then let’s look at it this way. It doesn’t matter if he comes around or not. I can handle Trent.” I hooked an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into my side. She came willingly, cuddling in close, resting her head on my shoulder and draping her legs over my thigh. “But I want to make it crystal clear that he’s not your problem. He’s worried, but he doesn’t get to take that out on you. Put him out of your mind and leave the rest to me.”
She melted into my side, her every muscle relaxing as an audible sigh escaped her lips. It pissed me off at Trent all over again. No wonder she wasn’t in the mood for more that night. She’d been alone and strung out all afternoon over the shit he’d said to her.
“Just so you know, there is a good chance I’m going to drop his pizza on the driveway when I get back.”
She hummed her approval, draping her arm over my stomach, completing my full-body Hadley wrap. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Okay. You want me to come over on Monday and talk to your contractor about why the hell your addition out back isn’t finished yet?”
Her head snapped up, an unexpected smile pulling at her lips. “How do you know it’s not finished yet?”
“Obviously because I have a drone hovering over your house at all times on the off chance that you decide to walk around your backyard naked.”
Her smile grew. “Nah. The one time I tried that, I caught Jerry walking around his backyard naked. And let me tell you, an eighty-year-old naked man is not something you can unsee.”
“I’ll call off the drone immediately.”
“Smart man, but I have to say I’m slightly alarmed by your gross invasion of privacy.”
I gave her a squeeze. “I’ve been attempting to stare down your shirt for months while you drew unicorn butts with my daughter. You have no idea the depths of my depravity when it comes to you.”
She laughed the way I’d hoped. While Hadley and I had shared quite a few laughs over text messages, this was the first time we’d really been able to talk freely without Rosalee’s little ears looming nearby.
This was better. Holding her, cracking jokes while shooting the shit… This could become addicting.
This was Hadley. The most dangerous woman of all. And there I was, sneaking over to her house, volunteering for a crash-and-burn situation. I didn’t know what it was about that woman that I found so irresistible. The taste of her both literally and figuratively the night before had been more than enough to have me throwing all caution to the wind to come back for seconds, thirds, and more.
“No. Seriously,” she pressed. “How’d you know they haven’t finished yet?”
“There’s a stack of shingles that hasn’t been touched in months in your side yard. What’s the holdup?”
She groaned. “I paid them.”
“And?”
“And that’s the holdup. I made the mistake of paying them in full upfront, and now, they drop by once a week, hammer one nail, then tell me they have to go get supplies and never come back.”
My jaw got hard. “First, never pay anyone in full. Half upfront. Half at the end. Second, what day of the week do they stop by to hammer that nail?”
“Usually Mondays. They appear with a whole truck of workers but do nothing. I swear it’s like a parade. They all march in at seven a.m. Then they all march out thirty minutes later. It’s entirely possible they come over just to have their weekly company meeting. I’m not really sure.”
“Okay, then on Monday, I’ll be here at seven.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’m almost to the point of going nuclear on them.” She twisted her lips. “Almost. If not this week, definitely sometime in the next seven years.”
“Right. Which is why I’m coming over. This contractor thinking he can pull this shit over on you, when he should have finished the damn job months ago, is unacceptable. He shouldn’t have taken the money from you upfront, much less billed you for it. I’ll be here Monday. He and I will talk and that talk will either end with a refund for shit he hasn’t accomplished or a realistic end date I find acceptable for when they’ll finish the project. That’s supposed to be your studio, right?”
“Yeah,” she whispered, her face filled with sweet surprise as she looked up at me.
She had no family. No man in her life. Shit. How long had it been since anyone had actually taken care of this woman? I didn’t want to think about it because, in one way or another, all of those factors were my fault.
“Then it’s not something you should have to wait on. Is your guest room ventilated properly for you to be painting in there? The fumes can’t be good for your body.”
That got me more warmth. More adoration. And she added a grin. “It has a window.”
“Is your studio going to have a ventilation system?
”
She pressed her lips together and nodded.
“Right. Then you know that a window isn’t good enough. So I’ll be here on Monday to talk to this contractor and get things worked out so you don’t have to listen to his bullshit for seven years or however long it would take you to go nuclear on him.”
“You’re a really sweet guy during non-naked time, Caven Hunt.” Her hand drifted up my abs and my chest to my neck, where she curled her fingers around the back of it and pulled me down for a lip touch.
Teasing her waistband, I spoke against her mouth. “I can be sweet during naked time too. Here, let me show you.”
She playfully slapped my hand away.
I lifted my hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop. But if you truly want to talk, I’m going to need you to crawl out of my lap and back up a few feet, possibly a few states.”
Laughing, she pushed to her feet and extended a hand down to me. “I want to show you something.”
“Is it your bedroom?”
Her glare made me chuckle. I took her proffered hand and allowed her to pull me to my feet, purposely stumbling into her to steal another lip touch. She laughed against my mouth, forcing me away with some seriously half-assed effort.
“You’re terrible.”
“The worst,” I agreed with her, slinging my arm around her shoulders. Together, we walked down the hall to her makeshift studio.
We’d barely rounded the corner when I stopped dead in my tracks.
I’d seen Hadley’s art before. It was hard to miss since the images of trees and tropical flowers hung all over her house. But this… This was unlike anything I’d ever seen before.
On the easel in the middle of the room was the picture of Rosalee I’d given her months earlier. That small pocket-size image had been blown up and cropped so it was just her face, and it was no longer a picture. She’d applied paint over the lines. Thick waves of various shades of red curled over her hair like highlights while her lips were the perfect shade of pink to match her cheeks. My girl’s smile was bright and white, and the green of her eyes popped from the canvas, bringing it to life.
Rosalee was gorgeous, but this… This was stunning.
“How much?” I asked as I walked over to it, fighting the urge to trace the curve of my daughter’s jaw because I was fearful I’d mess it up.
She moved a cup filled with paintbrushes to the table on the other side of the room. “Oh, it’s not for sale.”
“Bullshit. Everything’s for sale.”
“Not that one. Though I took some really cute pictures at her awards ceremony. If you’re nice, I might be willing to make you an R.K. Banks of one of those.”
I didn’t need it to be an R.K. Banks original.
And I didn’t want one of the others.
I wanted this one.
“Five hundred thousand dollars.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, and her lips tipped up in a crooked smile. “It’s not for sale, Caven.”
“Six hundred.”
“Not for sale.”
“Eight.”
“Not for sale.”
“A million dollars. Cash. I’ll have it wired to you first thing in the morning.”
She laughed and shook her head. “Not. For. Sale.”
And then I made her the one offer I knew for certain she would never be able to refuse. “Mondays.”
Her smile fell, and her back shot straight. “What?”
“Mondays. You come over. No art. Just hang out. Eat dinner. Paint her nails. Chase her around the backyard. Whatever the hell you want to do. I get that painting and you get Mondays.”
She pursed her lips and stared at me. I might not have known her well. But I knew that look. She wasn’t considering whether or not to accept my offer; she was trying to figure out how to keep herself from bursting into tears when she did.
Honestly, it was wrong of me to use more time with Rosalee to obtain the painting. Though I’m not too proud to admit that it was a wholly selfish offer. I knew without a shadow of a doubt she was going to accept. Thus earning me the painting and more time with her.
I prowled toward her. “Do we have a deal?”
She tilted her head to the side and extended a hand my way. “Shake on it. You get that painting and I get Mondays.”
I didn’t back away as I took her hand, which made for an awkward shake in the small space between us.
She sucked in a sharp breath and then finally grinned. “Would you like to take it with you tonight, or shall I have it delivered after it’s framed?”
“Depends. Is the frame going to be an atrocious tropical color like the ones in your living room?”
She narrowed her eyes. “I’m surprised you noticed. As a side note, I’d like to advise you to never invest in art again.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I think I got a pretty good deal.”
“No, what you got was a painting that I messed up and was using as scrap to practice the technique for the highlights I used in her hair.” Pointing to the wall behind her, she finished with, “That was what I wanted to show you.”
And I’d be damned. It was the same picture. The same strokes and colors, but everything was better. Rosalee’s eyes were brighter, and her vibrant curls blended together in a waterfall of color. Even the crop of the photo was better, slightly off center so her smile was the main focal point.
My mouth fell open and she let out a loud giggle.
“Before you say a word, I tried to warn you about it not being for sale. But you insisted and shook on it and everything. So, now, I have Mondays and you have my practice canvas.”
“Hadley,” I rumbled, but she kept right on laughing.
“I’ll get this boxed up for you.”
She didn’t make it to the painting before I bent, put a shoulder to her stomach, and lifted her off her feet.
“Caven!”
I started back to the living room. “You know what? I don’t think I like getting to know non-naked Hadley.”
Her laughter got louder. “But you got a beautiful painting. Truly. All the smears and smudges. It’s my best work yet.”
I slapped her on her ass. “Liar.”
“No, really. The trashmen are going to be devastated when I don’t put it at the curb this week.”
My smile was unrivaled as I deposited her on the couch, the whole thing creaking as I followed her down, my mouth finding hers before my body did.
She opened her legs, allowing my hips to fall through. Then she let out a sigh that erased whatever anger I’d been pretending to carry.
Truth be told, I still got the better end of our deal.
My painting was gorgeous.
And I got her on Mondays.
Fucked up as it was, I’d have happily paid a million dollars for the same outcome.
We made out on that couch until the pizza arrived. Technically, we’d stayed clothed the entire time, but it was far from the get-to-know-you session she’d suggested at the beginning of the night.
By the time I forced myself out her door an hour and a half after I’d arrived, both of our lips were bruised, my face hurt from smiling, and Trent’s pizza was stone cold—just like he deserved.
WILLOW
Caven: Let’s play a game of Would You Rather?
I grinned and put my paintbrush down.
Me: You have my attention.
Caven: Would you rather eat cheesecake or tiramisu?
Me: I’m not sure you understand how this game works. It’s supposed to be two difficult choices both with pros and cons.
Caven: Okay. Let me give it another go. Would you rather eat cheesecake in twenty minutes or tiramisu in twenty-one?
Me: Oh wow. That’s tough. On one hand, it’s tiramisu. On the other, I’d have to wait a whole minute longer to eat it. How will I ever decide?
Caven: What if I tell you I will be accompanying the dessert so you’d have to wait a whole minute without me?
Me: You’ll be
accompanying the dessert? Why? Are they out of ranch?
Caven: I’m getting both because you suck at this game. Alejandra asked if she could take Rosalee to a movie. So I decided to order dessert and crash whatever you had planned for tonight.
True to his word, bright and early on Monday morning, sexy businessman Caven Hunt had arrived wearing a mouthwatering suit and a grumpy scowl that almost made me feel bad for my crappy contractor. I wasn’t sure what happened in my backyard that day. From my vantage point of the upstairs window, peeking through the blinds, I saw Caven standing stoic as ever while the contractor’s mouth never stopped moving. Caven said no more than three sentences before turning on a toe and marching to my back door. I opened it. He told me that my studio would be done in ten days, they would be upgrading my flooring and windows free of charge, and he had an inspector that would come by a few times to make sure they weren’t rushing through the process. After that, he kissed me on the cheek and informed me that we were having tacos for dinner at his place. Then, just as quickly as he’d arrived, he was gone.
No smiling.
Or lip twitches.
But damn if Businessman Caven Hunt wasn’t sexy as hell.
It was now Friday night. And while I’d seen Caven on Monday night for tacos, then again on Wednesday while Rosalee and I played with potato stampers, and I was slated to see him again the next day for Rosalee’s art class, the idea of him coming over to spend time with me, alone, was more than enough to send me sprinting up the stairs for a shower. But as I ran, I typed out my reply.
Me: Lucky for us both I have no life and I love cheesecake.
Caven: I guess I’ll be seeing you in twenty minutes then.
I’d decided to slow things down with Caven after my conversation with Beth in hopes of us developing more than just a physical connection—and also to buy myself time to figure out how in the hell I was ever going to explain away my scar.
Written With You Page 4