by Erika Kelly
“No.”
Even before the kettle boiled, she poured the water.
He stood at the counter, watching her. “How’s it going?”
“Good.” She held the tea bag up by the string and dunked it just to have something to do. “Just…busy.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“No, I’ve got plenty of help. Everyone’s doing an amazing job. I’ve just never run a whole operation. I design, you know? Luc was kind enough to let me see the whole process, so I learned a lot, but my focus has always been on designing.”
He watched her carefully, like he was looking for scars. He wouldn’t find them. They’d embarrassed her, nothing more.
“Amelia says requests are rolling in,” he said.
“I’m going to have to start making some calls, but I’ve just been so busy.” What Ethan had overnighted was enough to get them started, but the rest of the fabric would come in different shipments. “At some point, I should probably take down the request for information link.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I’ve decided to follow Luc’s lead. He makes eight couture dresses a year. That’s what he’s learned he can manage and still maintain his level of quality. I’ve already got three times that many requests, so it doesn’t make sense to keep the door open when I won’t be taking on any more projects.”
“Sounds reasonable.” He leaned forward, those inked forearms and strong wrists standing out against the black granite counter.
She wanted to trace the massive black wave rising out of a churning ocean. It was so vivid her fingertips itched to brush away the spray. “You know what your dad said to me once? He said, start out at the top. From there, the world’s your oyster. But, if you settle for less, it’s going to be a fight to get to the top.”
One half of his mouth curled up into the cutest grin. “That sounds like him.”
“So, what’s up? What brings you by?”
“I haven’t checked in for a while.”
“You check in with Amelia and Zach all the time.”
“I want to check in with you.”
I miss you. We shouldn’t let that kiss keep us from each other. She should just put it on the table, whisk away the weirdness. “It was a good kiss.”
Color spilled into his cheeks, spreading like a sunburn to his earlobes. There was something incredibly sexy about a boyish vulnerability in an extremely masculine, powerful man.
It gave her the courage to go on. “It might’ve been the best kiss I’ve ever had.”
He swallowed hard, making his Adam’s apple jump. “But…?”
“But we can’t cross that line.”
“Right. Because…?”
“Because I like you. I like you better than anybody I’ve ever known.” Although Delilah had leapt to the top of her list tonight. “And we work together.”
Need crackled in his eyes. He wanted her.
Would she ever get used to the idea?
His fingertips tapped on the granite. “And I’m leaving soon.” The four simple words sounded like he’d pried them out of his throat with a tire iron. And, yet, he kept that nonchalant stance of his, like nothing mattered.
But she mattered to him. She knew it not just because of what he’d told her that night in the hotel room, but because for the very first time she could read the truth in his eyes and the tension in his body. And it was just so profound that she could see the world through something other than the bully lens. That she could see desire in his eyes and not aggravation or pity or whatever she might have interpreted in the past.
“Gray.” She didn’t even know how to deal with such a volatile cocktail of emotion. Affection for him, because it sank deep that she wasn’t—had never been—a pity project. Attraction, brand new, but potent and alive, like magnetic waves of energy flowing, colliding, sparking between them.
And fear. God, it scared her to death to have romantic feelings for a man like Gray.
She could fall so hard for him.
“We’re on totally different paths,” he said.
Love was complicated for her. Her mom hadn’t been reliable. She was the type of person who checked in with her daughter—You good? Texted pictures of her adventures, woke her up in the middle of the night to watch a meteor shower, and routinely stood at the sink to shovel dinner into her mouth before “heading out.” She sought her own pleasures in life, and while she cared about Knox, it was in a detached way.
Other than Robert—and that hadn’t been healthy—Knox hadn’t really loved anyone else.
What she felt for Gray was so much richer, deeper, more profound, because it involved her head and her heart, her body and her soul. It had the power to consume her.
“Right.” He tapped his knuckles on the counter. “So, that’s it. Glad everything’s going well.” He turned abruptly and headed for the door.
Panic fluttered in her chest. She set her mug down. Logically, she was making the right choice. But in her heart, she was freaking out. She didn’t want him to go, didn’t want this distance. She’d meant to bring up the kiss to dispel the weirdness between them but managed to drive him away with a conversation about the impossibility of a relationship.
You’re expert level at driving this man away.
Right when his hand closed around the door knob, she gave him what he’d come for. “It was awful. Tonight. Like tumbling back through time and being that girl again.” She came around the counter but didn’t move any closer to him.
He tensed, his whole body hard and alert. He tipped his forehead to the door. “I fucking hate that they did that to you.”
She shrugged. “They made fools of themselves.” And then she smiled. “But you should’ve seen Delilah. She was fierce.”
“Yeah?” Slowly, he turned toward her. “That’s what I heard. Good thing she was there. Otherwise I’d be in jail right now.” He opened the door and strode out onto the porch.
Don’t leave me. Stay, and we can lay in my bed on our backs, our feet against the wall, sharing a pack of cherry Twizzlers.
He sailed off the steps, landed on the grass, and turned to her, walking backwards. “Can you get away tomorrow morning?”
Happiness danced all over her skin. “Of course. What for?”
“A little field trip. Be ready at eight.”
* * *
“Shouldn’t you be training?” In the old days, Knox would be in nothing but a T-shirt and jeans. Today, the sharp chill in the air had her wearing a down jacket. She hadn’t lived in the mountains in a long time.
“Got in a few hours this morning. I’ll be back at it this afternoon.”
At a bend in the trail, she let him stride ahead of her. Mostly, because she wanted to take in all his rugged badassery. She’d always noticed his arms—who wouldn’t? Bulging biceps and hard forearms inked with unique and sexy art—but she’d never imagined them lifting her against the nearest tree. His hands on her body, skimming down her bare back and gripping her bottom.
The sizzle ripped through her, making her hairs stand on end.
No, she’d never imagined him doing that.
Since that kiss, though, it was all she could think about. “Where’re you taking me?”
“To my house.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Is that okay?”
“You don’t live in the main house?”
The canopy of pine trees cast a dark, cool shadow over the trail, and a gentle breeze made the branches shush overhead.
“Nah. That’s for Will and his family. Ruby doesn’t need a pile of us living there. She needs stability.”
The trail widened, and she caught up with him. “So, you…bought a place?”
“Built it.”
“You built a house?” Was there anything this man couldn’t do?
“Over time. It was just a little project.”
“I’m going to guess your brothers don’t know about it.” He opened his mouth to answer, but she cut him off. “And d
on’t say they never asked.”
His deep rumble of a laugh kicked her pulse up a few notches. “They know. They helped build it.”
Their shoes crunched over pine needles, and the air smelled like rich soil and damp forest. He went quiet for a minute, and she could tell he had something on his mind.
When they emerged into bright sunlight, he said, “Been thinking about your business. You ever consider building a digital platform?”
“Oh, my God, Gray. If I left it to you, you’d build me an empire.” She smiled. “You know you’re pretty amazing, right? You don’t have a girlfriend, and I doubt your brothers tell you, so I just want to make sure you know.”
His fingers flexed, and for just one second hers automatically reacted, reached, as if he’d meant to grasp her hand. But, just as quickly, he balled them into a fist. “Just thinking about financial independence.”
Well, that rang like a bell inside her. “I think you know how much that would mean to me.” She’d never dreamed of being rich. Didn’t really need much to be happy. But she did want enough. Enough to pay her bills and not have to struggle. “What’re you thinking, exactly?”
“Every year two and a half million people get married. That’s seventy-five-billion bucks of revenue in the US and three-hundred billion globally.”
“You’ve done your research.”
He snapped a bright yellow flower off a shrub, gave it a brief sniff, before handing it to her. “But bridal’s the slowest growing arm of the fashion industry, because it’s just not adapting to digital trends. And this generation seems less interested in marriage—specifically, in spending money on a ceremony. They’d rather spend their money on adventures.” He cut her a look. “Did you know sixty-four percent of brides use Pinterest? There are thirty-eight million boards about weddings created by brides.”
Tucking the flower behind her ear, she said, “I didn’t know the exact number, but I’m on there a lot. I like to see what brides love.”
“Yeah, so, while the rest of the fashion world’s adapted, the bridal sector’s dragging its heels.” He shrugged. “Which is dumb, because the vast majority of your buyers are technological natives, so you’re missing out on a huge sector.”
“That’s because there’s a different level of craftmanship to a wedding dress. It’s a different animal.”
“Okay, still. Wedding gowns are a two-point-five-billion-dollar industry, and you could tap into that by going digital.”
“It’s a good idea. Maybe one day I will.”
“I just worry that, in making this ‘couture’ designation your goal, you’re not seeing the broader picture.”
“You want an Olympic medal. How is that different from me wanting to hit the highest level in my business?”
“Is it the highest level, though? I guess I’m thinking the highest level is having your brand the most sought-after in the marketplace. In any event, I’m not steering you away from your dream. All the big names have multiple lines. I’m suggesting you have something going at every level. I’m talking about creating a digital atelier.”
Oh. That was interesting.
“Nothing really changes. You’d still do the pop-up show and the custom orders, which leads to your eventual runway show. But the money maker, the business we’d build behind the scenes, that’s the digital shop.”
“It’s interesting, but I’m not looking for an empire just yet.” She had her eye on the prize. Jack Abrams, come at me.
“I get that. But it’s a way to make sure you never have to work for assholes like Luc again.”
“He’s not an asshole.” He could be petulant and immature, but Gray didn’t understand him the way she did.
“Yeah? You hear from him since he blacklisted you from the suppliers?”
“No.” That sharp look he’d just given her meant she’d had more hurt in her voice than she’d intended. “You have to understand. He plucked me out of the mass of students graduating fashion schools all over the world, and then he took me in and mentored me—in a way he’s never done with anybody else. That’s so incredibly rare and special.”
“That’s because you’re incredibly rare and special.” The trail intersected with a gravel driveway, and he turned onto it. “Your talent is.”
“Gray, I quit my job. I left that amazing, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity he’d given me, and he still supported me. He gave me my dream.” The reminder that Bridal Fashion Week was three weeks away, and she wouldn’t be there, still stung.
“He did it to get more designs from you. No matter how you spin it, he’s an asshole.”
“No, he’s a businessman.”
His eyebrows hitched up. “You’re saying your relationship was strictly business?”
“Of course.” The lie pinched her heart. “What else could it have been?”
“When you first moved to Paris, did he have you over for dinner?”
Oh, dammit. Don’t do this. “Yes, but I’d never been overseas before, never been away from home.” But, of course, she’d been away at college for four years, so that wasn’t exactly true.
“He get you presents on your birthday?”
She nodded.
“Did he get them for his other employees?”
No. “I don’t know what he did in private. Everyone got a fabulous gift basket for Christmas with soaps and candles and macarons.”
“But he gave you something special on your birthday?”
Again, she nodded. What could she say? Luc had made her feel—
“So, he pretty much positioned himself as family.”
Hearing the truth out loud was like taking a sip of too-hot coffee. It scalded. “I don’t know about family. But he looked out for me.”
“And, again, I’m going to ask, did he do that with other employees?”
“Maybe he did.” Why was she even arguing? Was she really going to hold onto some sense of loyalty when she knew without a doubt Luc had behaved differently with her than he had with anyone else? “No, he didn’t.” There’s no way he’d dropped by anyone else’s apartment with chicken noodle soup and a baguette, a brand new Kindle, and a bouquet of flowers when they’d been down with the flu.
Which is how he’d had access to your sketchbook.
That galvanized her. “He did try and make me feel special. Everyone else had to come into work every day, but he understood my creative process and gave me the freedom to run with it.” She glanced at him. “I can’t work in a cubicle with all that noise and activity around me.”
“You get distracted.”
“Exactly. So, he let me work at home a lot. Well, not literally at home. I walked for hours, watching people, looking at buildings, touring museums. He saw the results, so he gave me the space to create, the exposure to all the things that sparked my imagination.” She looked at his handsome profile. “I thought he was encouraging me by bringing me presents or food or whatever. At the time, I didn’t think he was manipulating me.”
“When did you realize he was?”
“After he stole my private sketchbook. From my apartment.”
“Fucker. He wanted your talent, so he groomed you to be loyal to him.”
“No, I mean, he was always perfectly clear. When he gave me a gift, he’d always say he was offering sacrifices to the Gods so that I’d create a dream collection for him. He was honest about it.”
“Except when he stole your designs?”
“Yeah, that…that was awful. But my point is that he was very upfront about what I was to him. He’d flat-out say, This line’s going to make me a superstar. He never pretended to be doing me any favors.”
Thick foliage, heavy with white and yellow flowers, bracketed the driveway, and the forest grew denser.
“But the fact that he’d blacklist you means he thinks you owe him something,” he said. “And I’d bet my future gold medal that he thinks you do not because he was generous enough to back you in fashion week, but because he worked so damn hard to make you fee
l like family. I bet that doesn’t come naturally to him.”
“Considering how little that medal means to you, you make it too easy to take that bet.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you’re twenty-five years old, Gray. You could’ve been in two Olympics by now. Not to mention you’re taking me on a field trip when you should be at the gym.” No matter what he said about getting a work-out in…it was still eight in the morning.
He chuckled.
“No one else on the Olympic team would take a day off for anything other than an emergency.”
“I’m running a business. Besides, it’s just a few hours.”
“Pretty sure your work ethic is going to give your coach an aneurism.”
“Fin’s not fond of my work ethic, but he respects my results.” Right where the driveway curved, blocking the view of what lay ahead, Gray stopped and looked at her. “But that’s the point, isn’t it? You keep pushing me away to see if I’m going to bail on you, too.”
Yes. It was like biting into a fiery pepper, the heat burning a path all the way down to her stomach. He’s right. That’s exactly why I keep pushing him away.
They continued on, and the road gently crested, revealing a fairytale pine forest. Nestled in the center sat a charming log cabin. Bright purple and red flowers danced in a breeze in the window planters, and a stone walkway led to a wide, wraparound porch.
“Gray.” She took in a sharp breath. “It’s gorgeous.” Leaves fluttered overhead, and she felt totally encased in the cool shadow of the pine trees. “I can’t believe you live here.”
“I like it.” He held her gaze, like he wanted to say something. Instead, he pressed his lips together, the muscle in his jaw working. There was some kind of powerful meaning in his eyes that she couldn’t read. It was a little tortured, a little pleading, and painfully vulnerable. “Now, come inside and let me make you breakfast.” His voice sounded rough, gravelly.
She glanced at his home, aware that somewhere deep down, she thought maybe she did understand.
She was just having a hard time believing it.
