She motions with her hands for everyone to quiet down so she can be heard.
“I’m so happy to be spending the evening with all of you tonight.” She bounces on her feet, a complete ball of energy. “It’s going to be so much fun and at the end you’re going to leave sated with wine and a new piece of art to hang in your house later on.” She crosses over to the easel in front of the room with a completed painting. “This is what you’ll be recreating tonight. Feel free to follow it exactly or take your own artistic abilities. I’ll also be working up front, speaking about techniques, so you can watch it take form if you’re a newbie and need more guidance. Feel free to ask any questions you might have. This is a safe space for all of us be a little weird and a whole lot creative.”
Jamie clears his throat, tipping his stool slightly in my direction so he can whisper under his breath, “She’s a bit … uh … eccentric.”
I bump his shoulder, sending him back to his original position with all the legs of the stool solidly on the ground.
“You didn’t tell us your name,” someone from the front speaks, raising a hand.
“Oh, right.” The instructor claps again, her cheeks tinged pink. “I’m Cynthia, and that’s my sister Cecilia.” She points to the blue haired woman in the corner of the room. “So … um … yeah, let’s get to it then.”
“Is she new at this?” I ask Jamie since she seems a little nervous.
He clears his throat, picking up a paintbrush and running the pad of his thumb over the bristles. “It’s only been open a week.”
“Oh.” It suddenly makes sense, her chaotic nervousness and the fact that I haven’t heard of this place before now. As an artist I usually hear about this kind of stuff from either online searching or my classmates.
I lean around my easel, peering at the finished canvas in front of the room. It’s a simple painting of a starry night with black silhouettes for people. For me, this is an easy painting to do, but I look forward to putting my own spin on things. Plus, it’ll be more than a little fun to watch Jamie try his hand at things. God, I love to watch that man squirm. I don’t know what that says about me.
As promised Cecilia passes around glasses of wine and plates of fancy cheeses and crackers. I’m full, so I don’t really want any but Jamie insists we take the snacks just in case.
He pays close attention to Cynthia’s instructions while I paint my heart away.
Joy fills me, watching the colors bleed and blend together, the spark of life I can create with color on a blank white surface. Art has always brought me a high that nothing else can.
Though, that may be in part to the fumes.
“Mine looks nothing like that,” Jamie exclaims, causing a few heads to turn our way.
“It’s not supposed to.” I don’t bother taking my eyes off my canvas. “It’s your interpretation.”
“Yeah, well, fuck my interpretation. Cecilia! I need more wine!” He holds his glass up, swinging around as he tries to spot the blue haired woman. Cecilia comes running over and tops his glass off. “You don’t have anything stronger, do you? Some whiskey? A shot of tequila, perhaps?” She shakes her head and runs away. I guess Cynthia talks so much that she feels no need to utter a single word. Turning to me, Jamie brushes a lock of hair from his eyes with the back of his arm. “I’m going to need to be drunk to make this anywhere near decent.”
I roll my eyes, returning to my painting. I brush the side of my pinky against the wet, midnight blue paint to swirl it. “Yeah, that’s not how it works. But tequila, really? That shit makes me want to take my clothes off and wear a sombrero.” My eyes shift to him. “Not that that’s ever happened to me before.”
His lips turn up on the left corner. “Interesting. When did that happen?”
“Spring break my freshman year of college. Went to Cancun and that’s pretty much the only memory I have—though it’s not really a memory since Lou recounted the story to me.” I ponder for a second. “Huh, maybe that means it didn’t actually happen. Since I can’t remember anything, she could’ve made up some bull shit.”
“Would she do that?”
I sigh dejectedly. “No, Lou’s not that type of person. Unfortunately.”
“You guys are really close.”
I know it’s a statement not a question. “Yeah. She’s like a sister to me.”
He chuckles, but there’s no humor in the tone. “I don’t even know if you have any siblings or not.”
“I don’t. What else do you want to know?” My eyes slide to him. He’s not looking at me, instead he’s working intently on his painting. I wonder if he knows his tongue sticks out the tiniest bit between his lips when he’s concentrating on something. “You can ask.”
He doesn’t respond for a minute. “Where did you grow up?”
“Delaware. That’s where my parents still live. I miss them. A lot.” I can feel my throat closing up. I don’t talk often about how hard it is being away from my parents. We were the three musketeers, still are, I’m just hours away now. I needed to leave and spread my wings, and I’m thankful they understood that.
“Oh.” I see his shoulders tense from the corner of my eye. “Will you go back there after you graduate?”
“I used to think I might, but this is where I belong. Something about this place…” I pause, looking out the large glass window to my right at the small town twinkling with lights and laughter. “It feels like home in a way Delaware can’t. I’m hoping my parents will move here eventually, or at least closer.”
He dips his brush into black, his eyes darting to me almost shyly. “Do you want to ask me something?”
“What exactly is it you do? I know you say you work for your family’s company, but you’ve never stated what all that means.”
He takes a sip—no, a gulp—of wine before answering. “Miller Enterprises dabbles in a bit of everything. Real estate, aviation, oil, the list goes on. My great-great grandpa built it from nothing into what it is today. As tradition goes, it gets passed down. You wouldn’t believe some of the companies who have tried to buy us over the years for more money than you can dream, but my grandpa wouldn’t sell and I won’t either. Plus, I like working too much. I prefer handling what the bigwigs call the simple man stuff. Sometimes it’s easy to forget I’m the CEO of a major corporation.”
“Whoa.” I wasn’t expecting all that. “So, like … you have to have other locations, right?”
He nods, picking up a cracker with cheese. He chews and swallows before finally answering me.
“There’s one here in Tysons, that’s our D.C. location, Manhattan, L.A., even London and Tokyo.”
“How rich are you?” I find myself blurting out, probably a little too loud.
I knew Jamie had money, that much was obvious, especially when he showed me the planes, but I didn’t realize he was this wealthy.
“Oh my God,” I slap a hand over my mouth before he can reply, “you really are Christian Grey.”
He looks sheepish and mumbles under his breath, “Yeah, pretty much.”
My jaw drops.
My kinda-sorta-not-really boyfriend is a billionaire. Maybe even a multi-billionaire.
Billionaire.
Like a millionaire, but with a B for billion—as in more money than I can ever comprehend. So. Many. Zeros.
“But you ... you’re … normal.” Okay, Jamie isn’t exactly normal, but he’s definitely closer to what I’d label normal than a billionaire.
“Is that a problem?” He raises one brow, his tone a little snappy.
I rear back. “No, it’s a good thing,” I assure him. “I like that fact about you. You’re just you.”
He drops his eyes, letting out a breath. “I’m sorry for snapping.” He shocks me with his apology. “I … I know now Shannon, my ex, only wanted to be involved with me for my money. It’s a sore subject.”
I let out a snort. “I’m only with you for your magic tea cup ride.” He throws his head back and laughs. When he looks a
t me I can tell his shoulders are lighter. “Just remember, we started this thing long before we ever knew anything about each other. Chemistry is chemistry. That shit can’t be denied.”
His eyes spark with lust. “Believe me, I know.”
We grow quiet for a little bit, focusing on our painting, before he speaks again.
“Anything else you want to ask me?”
I lower my paintbrush, hesitantly biting my lip. “You haven’t dated anyone since your ex-wife, right?” I hedge and he nods in affirmation. “Why me? Why after all this time would you choose me?”
“Honestly?” He dips his brush in water and wipes it off. “I don’t know. At first, it was easy, it was just sex. But then I kept coming back to you again and again. I hooked up with women after Shannon left, but not all that often. I have a son to take care of, a business to run, and a mom who watches me like a hawk.” He laughs, shaking his head. “But I couldn’t stay away from you, so I forced myself to.” By using the woman I saw him with at the bar. “I wanted to hurt you, because I already knew how stubborn you are, and if you hated me then I knew that would be it for us.” Something flashes on his face that I can’t decipher, but disappears quickly. “Suffice to say, I couldn’t stay away.”
“Come on, Jamie, I need more of an explanation than that.” I’m begging him, I know, but I don’t care.
I need to understand what he truly thinks of me, of us.
Things have been headed in a new, blindly scary territory for us, and I just want to be sure before I end up with a broken heart.
I might have faith, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have the same doubts Lou has voiced to me.
“What Shannon did to me … it took me by surprise. She took some naivety away from me, and with you, I feel a little more like that old version of myself. Someone not so burdened with the hardships of a difficult past. Tobias had to have heart surgery after he was born.” His voice grows incredibly soft, his hazel eyes filling with an old sadness. I reach over, placing my hand on his arm. It’s strange to be having a heart to heart like this with Jamie in the midst of all these people, but I’m thankful he’s opening up. “Having my infant son have open heart surgery was the scariest thing I’ve ever been through. Was Shannon there? No, she’d taken off to the Maldives thanks to one of my credit cards. She didn’t even care that he was a baby having a major surgery.” He looks like he wants to say more, but shakes his head. “Please, tell me something else about you. Something random and not nearly as sad and pathetic as all that shit I just unburdened onto you.”
“Um.” I scramble through my brain, looking for any minute detail about myself I can scrounge up. “I hate sweet tea. It tastes like piss. Clowns freak me out, they’re weird as hell. Scary movies are not my jam. I still listen to Hannah Montana—Life’s What You Make It is a bop and I will fight anyone on this fact. I love yoga, it relaxes me. Should I keep going?”
He shakes his head, a tiny grin tugging at his full lips. “What your favorite position?”
“Sex position?”
“No, yoga.”
I snort, waving a dismissive hand. I sling a little paint on the woman’s canvas a few feet away from me by mistake. Thankfully, she doesn’t notice. “Corpse pose, of course.”
“Ah,” he breathes with a soft laugh. “It’s not like Squiggly Snake or some shit like that?”
“That’s not even a yoga pose. Don’t be offensive,” I mock playfully.
God, this is nice hanging out with him, being myself and seeing his walls come down more and more. I have to admit, this is the best date I’ve ever been on. Who’d have thought?
An hour later we’ve finished our paintings, leaving them to dry, as we head onto the street. I pull my coat tighter around me, thankful I had the forethought to bring it.
Jamie wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me against his solid side.
“I still say yours was the best of the whole class.”
“You’re biased.” I bump my hip against his.
“I’m serious. You’re an incredible artist, Miranda.”
I glance up at him and I’m struck by how handsome he is. Jamie is my favorite type of art, one molded and crafted by time, circumstances, and sheer determination. His soul is the heartbeat of my existence. That might sound crazy, but it’s true. If I never hear from him again after tonight it won’t change that fact. Some people we are destined to meet and they become a tether, to a time, a place, to a feeling and I know he’s that for me.
“Thank you.”
He smiles at me and I say a prayer for us—a prayer for a tomorrow, a prayer for a future I suddenly, so desperately, want more than anything else.
23
Jamie
“So…” Miranda leans against her apartment’s open door, holding onto my jacket with one hand. “I guess this is goodnight, then.”
Tonight was more than I could’ve ever expected. Spending time with her is easy and it doesn’t feel like hours have passed since I picked her up. It’s after ten and I find myself sad at the prospect of having to say goodnight to her and walk away.
“Or you could always invite me in,” I suggest, tilting my head to the side.
As much as I want to peel her dress from her body, I’m not having sex with her tonight even if she does say I can come in. I want this to be a real date, the beginning of something new, and I want to show her I do want more than sex with her.
Though, the sex is pretty fucking fantastic.
She twists her lips, looking over her shoulder and down the hall.
Fucking hell, I’d bet anything that stupid kitten is somewhere in this apartment.
I’m not a cat person, it’s true, but I’d let her keep it if pets weren’t extensively against the rules of the whole complex. I bought a few apartments here from her original landlord, but there’s still a committee in charge of things like allowing pets and rules of the pool—shit like that.
“Not tonight,” she finally says, placing her palm on my chest. Her fingernails are painted a silvery color. It’s the first time I’ve seen them neat and manicured. Normally they’re bare with scraps of dried paint from her projects caked under them. “My mom always told me a real lady never gives it up on the first date.”
In a blink, she kisses my cheek and the door closes in my face.
I bust out laughing at the closed door.
“Always keeping me on my toes. Goodnight, Miranda,” I say through the door.
“Night! Masturbate to only thoughts of me!”
I shake my head at her antics.
I head down and narrow my eyes when I see her neighbor Stan poke his head out of his apartment.
“Can I help you?” I glare at him when he stares at me.
“You got a smoke?”
“No.” I shove my hands in my pockets, narrowing my eyes.
Am I going to have to punch this fucker?
He looks up the stairs behind me and licks his lips. “Miranda, she’s pretty sexy, huh? I like ‘em thick. We have that in common.”
Anger boils in my bloodstream. I’ve never wanted to hit someone so much.
“I don’t think we have anything in common,” I come back with, sounding much calmer than I actually am.
He smiles and his nasty stained yellow teeth look ready to rot out of his mouth. How is it possible with dental care readily available people like this still manage to exist?
“Well, we’ll see about that.”
He laughs, the sound echoing off the concrete floor, and closes his door.
I stand there for a minute, giving my blood pressure a chance to go down. I’m going to have to do something about that guy, because my gut tells me Miranda isn’t safe with him around.
Perhaps I’m being overprotective but I doubt it.
He’s got to go.
My drive home is all too quiet without Miranda in the car. Normally I like the silence. It gives me time to think. But I miss the sound of her chatting passionately and her laughter that alw
ays seems to explode out of her suddenly.
I pull into my garage, heading into the darkened house and up to my master bedroom. Setting my wallet on my dresser I nearly shit myself when I hear Tobias.
“How’d it go, Dad? Did you give her flowers? I told you girls like flowers.”
I shake my head at him. Tobias is far too young to be concerned with what girls do and don’t like. If he’s like this now God help me.
“What are you doing up?” I narrow my eyes on him, giving him my best stern father look.
He shrugs his small shoulders. Tonight he wears a pair of striped pajamas with insects. “Don’t be mad at Grandma Jo, she thought I was asleep. I’m good at pretending.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger.
“You should be sleeping, Tobias, not asking me about my date.”
He frowns slightly, his shoulders drawing inward, and I instantly feel bad for what I said. “I just wanted to know. I’m sorry.”
He turns to go back across to his room.
I let out a breath and follow him. The last thing I want is for my son to think he can’t talk to me or ask questions. I don’t want to be the kind of parent who holds my kid at arm’s length, scared to have a real world conversation.
Tobias climbs into his bed and grumbles, “Go away, Dad.”
I sit on the edge of his bed and he looks anywhere but at me. It’s okay. I deserve that.
“I’m sorry, Tobias. This is just … weird. I haven’t dated in a very long time.”
“Since my mom,” he states, finally looking at me.
“Yeah, since your mom.” My shoulders sag.
“But she doesn’t love us.”
This has always been the tricky part, trying to explain things to a young child so he understands while not bad mouthing Shannon. “I’m sure she loves you in the only way she knows how, but it’s not the way I love you, if that makes sense.”
“But she doesn’t love you?”
“Not anymore.”
“Does that make you sad?”
Desperately Seeking Landlord Page 13
