by Sarah Smith
Seconds pass before I’m able to see clearly again. But when our stares connect, it’s a whole new world. Because as Wes gazes down on me, it’s pure affection, pure love for me.
My legs still tremble from the orgasm aftershocks. Wes grips both of my ankles with gentle hands and sets me back on the bed. He lowers himself down next to me and hugs my body against his. I look up and catch him smiling at me. I suspect the smile on my face is just as pleasure-drunk as his.
“I love you, Shay. More than anything,” he whispers, his mouth pressed against my hair.
Emotion clogs my throat. “That means…” I drift off before I break.
He kisses my forehead, and I have to close my eyes. It’s such a tender action. I never thought I’d get to experience it with him ever again. Even now, even after we’ve declared our love to each other with our mouths and bodies, it still feels like a dream. And I never want to wake up.
“It’s okay,” he whispers. “I’m here. Always.”
The pressure in my chest eases. “I love you, Wes. You’re my everything.”
I kiss his chest as he hugs me tighter. Together we doze for what feels like the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. When I open my eyes and sit up to look out the window, it’s well into the night.
“Wow,” I mumble, rubbing my eyes.
Wes yawns, before pulling me back down to lie on top of him.
I chuckle and glance up at the clock. “It’s almost midnight. I can’t believe we slept that long.”
“I can. We had a hell of a time in bed. That takes a lot out of a guy.”
I nudge him in the stomach with my elbow. “So you’re not annoyed we wasted the evening?”
With his thumb, he lifts my chin to look at him. “No time is ever a waste if it’s spent with you.”
I press a kiss to his lips, then nuzzle his neck. When I cough, Wes hops out of bed to fetch me a glass of water. I drain it instantly. He refills it and crawls back in, cuddling me once more.
“You know what would be perfect?” I gaze up at him.
“What?”
“Tequila.”
“Believe it or not, I’m out.”
I kiss his bare bicep. He lets out a low moan.
“Trust me, if I had known how this day was going to unfold, I would have packed a brand-new bottle,” he says.
I lean over Wes to reach my phone from my nightstand. “No worries. Remy’s always got full bottles at the bar. I’ll text him to drop one off after his shift tonight.”
When I put my phone back, Wes hugs my back against his chest. “I can always run to the store.”
I turn around to face him, softly clawing at his chest with both hands. “No way. You’re not leaving this bed for the rest of this evening.”
“Just what have you got planned for your boyfriend, Shay?” He smirks down at me.
Boyfriend. I beam up at him. My face hot, I can’t help the joy circling within me. Wes is my boyfriend again.
I plant another long and teasing kiss on him before trailing my mouth down his chest. “You’ll see.”
Chapter Twenty
From above the rim of my glass, I stare at Wes. Naked in bed, sheets tangled around us, is my new favorite way to enjoy tequila. I clink my glass against his.
“To new beginnings,” he says.
I raise a brow. “So cliché.”
He laughs, then we take a sip. “It’s the best I can do after the number you did on me.”
My mind drifts back to our night together. We barely racked up any sleep. Mostly naps between mind-blowing sex sessions.
He drains his glass, sets it on the nightstand, then wraps his arm around me, cuddling me into his chest. He squints at the bottle of Dulce Vida tequila that Remy dropped at my door after his shift. “Damn, that’s good.”
“You can thank Remy later,” I say.
Wes lifts his brow at me. “How do you think he’s going to take the news that we’re back together?”
“He’ll be shocked, I’m sure.”
“And probably a little pissed.”
I laugh. “Okay, maybe a little pissed, but if I’m happy, he’ll be happy. Eventually.”
“Are you saying I have some groveling to do?”
“Maybe.”
He stares out the window for a few seconds, like he’s thinking about something else entirely. “Want to grab some breakfast? Maybe at the diner where we had our first date?”
My stomach growls at the mention of food. It’s been more than twelve hours since I’ve eaten. “Yes, please.”
We get dressed and bundle up in our coats. We walk with my sore arm looped in his while I brace myself with a crutch using my good arm. I’ve hit the four-week recovery mark and could probably do without it, but since there’s snow and ice out, I want to be safe. I close my eyes and hum to myself. Us side by side, in step, together. Joy. Contentment. Utter perfection.
Wes stops at the front of a small brick building next to Dandy Lime. “I need to make a pit stop first,” he says.
“The bar doesn’t open until noon, and Remy won’t be up for another couple of hours, so you can’t grovel just yet,” I say.
He smiles. “Noted. I want to check on something else.”
He leads me around to the back alley where there’s a back entrance to the tiny building next to Dandy Lime. It’s completely empty. Remy told me once what business used to be there, but it was before he bought the bar, and I can’t remember.
I follow Wes as he strolls slowly inside the space. There’s nothing notable about it. Dingy wooden floors that are begging for a polish, high ceilings, exposed brick walls. It boasts the same unfinished industrial look Dandy Lime did before Remy remodeled it.
Wes heads for the corner of the open space, steps to the side, and then I see it. Two framed drawings leaning up against the wall nearest me. Both don Wes’s exquisite face, one in black and white, the other in watercolor.
My breath lodges in my throat. It takes a second, but I get my voice back.
“Wes, what…what is this?”
It doesn’t matter how long I stare at the framed artwork—my artwork. The artwork I so lovingly crafted and then so bitterly sold months ago.
He takes a step toward the pieces, a shy smile on his face. “I wanted to surprise you.”
Inside my chest, my heart is swelling and swelling. All this time I thought I sold those paintings to some random person.
“You’re the one who bought them?”
“Yes.” His eyes fall to the floor as he rubs the back of his neck.
“But how? You were practically off the grid when you were hiking and camping.”
“Every time I’d stay in a town with decent internet, I’d check out your website. It was my cowardly way of staying connected to you when I thought I ruined everything.”
I squint at my artwork sitting in front of me. I recall the afternoon I stumbled upon these sketches in my desk drawer. My heart swells. I’m so thankful that even in my post-breakup stupor, I didn’t rip them to shreds like I initially wanted to.
“But you didn’t have an address the whole time you were gone. How did you even manage to get them delivered to you?”
“Colin’s cousin lives in Salt Lake City, so I sent them to his place and he held on to them for me until I could make it over there.” Wes clears his throat. “When I saw them, I knew I needed to move fast. Someone would have bought them if I didn’t snatch them up first.”
He turns back to the wall where my paintings rest. Together we stand, silently staring. I scoop his hand in mine, and he twists his head to me. Uncertainty is the undercurrent of his smile.
“You framed them beautifully.” I smile at him.
“It was kind of weird trying to explain to Colin’s cousin why I wanted to buy two portraits of my own face. He must have thought I was an ego-maniac.”
I squeeze his hand. “I’m so glad you did. I should have never given them away in the first place. I was just…”
&
nbsp; Wes squeezes my hand softly in return, and I know I don’t have to explain. He understands perfectly.
I rest my head on his shoulder. “So did you have to sweet-talk the owner of this building to hide them up here this whole time you’ve been back?”
“Something like that.” This time he smiles like he’s hiding a secret.
He turns so he’s standing in front of me. “I thought they’d look great as the first pieces you display in your new art studio and gallery.”
“I don’t have an art studio or a gallery.”
“You do now.”
Even as he gestures around the empty space around us, it takes me a second to comprehend what he means. Then I feel the impact like an invisible anvil to the head. It knocks every last molecule of air out of me.
“Wait, you mean…this place?”
His smile widens. “It’s yours.”
“But how did you—what did you…”
“This is your new workspace, Shay. And your own gallery, too, if you ever want to display your work.”
I’m beaming so wide, my mouth throbs. But then logic hits and I lose my grin to a frown. “No, I can’t…I can’t accept this.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t afford this, Wes. I don’t have the money for a studio-art gallery combination space.”
A laundry list of real-life problems fills my brain. There’s rent for the space, then the cost of electricity and utilities. Then the cost of furnishing it.
“I mean, I’ve been making a profit from my artwork these past six months, but it’s nowhere near enough to justify an entirely separate workspace,” I babble. “And I don’t think I have enough in savings to cover the rent, the bills, what it will take to get this place up and running—”
Wes shakes his head, cutting me off. “You don’t have to worry about any of that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I had some savings from all my jobs over the years and I used some of it to buy this place.”
My eyes bulge. “Wes, that’s tens of thousands of dollars. Why in the world would you do that? What if there’s an emergency or you have to pay for an unexpected expense?”
His smile is soft, easy, unbothered. It’s like I’m pestering him about something minor, like forgetting to turn off the lights before leaving the apartment.
“Shay, it’s really okay. There’s nothing to worry about. Colin’s company bought this building earlier this year. He sold this space to me for a bargain. There’s no rent to pay. And I’m going to fix everything up and help you set it up exactly the way you want. You won’t have to worry about a thing.”
His explanation makes sense, but still, my head is spinning.
“That means you’ve been working on this surprise for months,” I say.
“That’s true.”
“Which means you were planning this even before we were back together.”
A hint of shyness flashes across his face. “I messed up big time. I wanted to do something to show you how serious I was about making this work with you a second time.”
The fog of confusion slowly dissipates, giving way to clarity. “You did all this for me.”
Even when I say it, doubt lingers in my tone. Because it’s just so beyond belief that someone would take such a gigantic risk for the person they love when they’re not even together. Wes seems to sense it because he pulls me against him. His face hovers in front of mine, our lips barely an inch apart. The beat of his heart thuds softly against my chest, amplifying the intimacy of this moment.
“Everything I’ve done these past few months was for you. I want to support your dreams and goals. I want to see you succeed. I want to be there holding your hand when you host your first gallery opening.”
His words hum against my ears. If I weren’t holding his body, feeling his breath on my skin, gazing into his rich brown eyes, it would sound too good to be true. But it is true. And it is so, so good.
I yank him by the collar of his jacket and pull him to me. “Okay. But we do this together. Everything is fifty-fifty. Every remodeling project we work on, I help you. I know you’ve got construction experience and I don’t, but as long as you tell me what to do, I can help. And if I do decide to do a showing of my artwork—”
“Not if,” he corrects. “When.”
I kiss the tip of his nose. “When I decide to do a showing of my artwork, we split the earnings.”
His thick eyebrows wrinkle together. “No way. That’s your artwork that you created. You keep anything you get from that.”
I start to object, but he stops me. “I earn enough with my job at Colin’s company.”
“Fine. But if I do any more paintings or sketches of you, we’re splitting the profits.”
He chuckles. “Deal.”
I turn back to the framed paintings. “Except for those. They’re not for sale.”
He pulls me into a hug once more. “Deal on that too.”
I lean back to look up at him. “This space is just as much yours as it is mine, Wes. I don’t want it unless you’re a part of it too.”
He beams down at me. “I’d love that.”
Tightening my arms around him, I cuddle my face to his chest. He rests his head on top of mine.
I glance at the empty space in front of me. “We’re moving pretty fast, don’t you think? Boyfriend and girlfriend as of last night, and then business partners as of two minutes ago?”
Above me, there’s a low chuckle. “We move fast for sure. But we’ve got months to make up for and a gallery to get showroom-ready. Tell me how I can make this the space of your dreams.”
“It already is.” I lean back and gaze up at him. “Because you’re here.”
He beams down at me before leading me in another kiss that leaves me panting. I pull away from him to stroll around the space and walk around, taking it all in.
I stop in the center of the room, turn back to him, and promptly fail to reign in the wicked grin on my face. “I have a lot of ideas for this building, actually.”
I shrug off my jacket and unbutton my blouse. Wes’s eyes bulge, then the naughtiest smirk spreads across his face.
“But we should christen the space as ours first. Don’t you think?”
Epilogue
4 Months Later
“You did it, cuz!” Remy pulls me into a hug, then holds me by the shoulders while beaming at me. “I’m so, so proud of you!”
He squeezes me tighter and I can’t help but smile, even though I can barely breathe.
“Thank you,” I say before scanning the room, which is bustling with friends, relatives, and prospective buyers.
It’s my first art show in the gallery, and I couldn’t be happier. After Wes and I christened the space, we must have been on some new-found post-orgasm high and because we set the opening date for just four months later. That gave us barely enough time to tackle everything: finishing the floors, adding track lighting to the ceiling, and painting the walls the perfect neutral shade.
Every time I gaze around the room, I lose my breath. Twenty-five framed paintings and sketches adorn this space. And every time I blink, I can barely believe it. We actually pulled it off.
Thanks to a killer social media campaign, it’s not just family and friends at my opening. There are dozens of strange faces making the rounds in the room, staring at my artwork. It’s only been an hour into the showing and already I’ve sold a dozen pieces. I check my watch. Just over two hours left. I smile to myself. I think I have a damn good chance of selling out.
Colin strolls over clad in a suit. “Good news, Shay. That guy with the gray beard just bought your last watercolor cityscape.”
I high-five him. “Would you mind putting one of those red dot stickers over the price tag to show that it’s sold?”
He flashes a thumbs-up before walking to the painting. Not only has Colin been chatting up my artwork to anyone within earshot this evening, but he also saved us by doing all of the track li
ght installations for free.
He makes his way back over before checking the time on his phone for the millionth time this evening.
“She’s running late?” I ask.
Colin frowns. “As usual.”
I pat his shoulder. “Her schedule is nuts. She’ll be here though, I promise.”
Colin nods.
It’s been a handful of months since Colin and Mari started dating, and I couldn’t be happier for them. One issue they’ve been struggling with, though, is making time to see each other. Mari’s schedule is impossibly busy as she’s constantly traveling and performing. But the fact that she bought a house on the outskirts of Bend is a sign that she’s taking her relationship with Colin seriously.
Remy points his drink at Colin. “You’re dating a jet-setting celeb, man. You knew the drill when you signed up for it.”
I frown at Remy, hoping he heeds my silent warning to shut it.
“I’m well aware, Remy,” Colin says.
I give Colin’s forearm a gentle squeeze that I hope is comforting. I’m about to say more words of comfort, but just then out of the corner of my eye, I catch Mari trotting into the gallery clad in a chic camel-colored trench and silver stilettos. She waves at me before scurrying to Colin.
He turns around and the widest grin I’ve ever seen him make appears on his face. They embrace, then kiss. Even in four-inch heels, Colin still has a few inches on her. With his arms around her, his broad frame easily envelopes her.
She slides her hands up his chest and rests them behind his neck. For a few seconds, all they do is stare at each other. Then Mari twists her gaze to me. “Shay, congrats.”
“Thank you. It means everything that you would come to this.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
She grabs Colin by the hand. “Show me what paintings are still left unsold. I need some new art for the house.”
Still grinning, Colin leads her to the far end of the gallery.
“A hundred bucks says you sell out tonight, cuz.” Remy nudges me playfully with his elbow. “So, how does it feel? You’re a successful artist with a celebrity fan base. I don’t know if I’m cool enough to hang out with you anymore.”
