One Hundred Glances (An Aspen Cove Small Town Romance Book 14)

by Kelly Collins

  Realization hit him, and he knew that being with Sosie was far more important than living in Aspen Cove and owning his house. He told her his family was there, but it wasn’t if she was gone.

  His skin tingled a second before her voice reached his ear.

  “You came.”

  He spun around to face her. “I told you I would.”

  Looking at her standing before him took his breath away. Dressed in royal blue, her eyes shone like gemstones. She’d trimmed her hair and styled it, so it fell in soft waves over her shoulders. Her makeup highlighted her eyes, and her lips glistened pink under the overhead lights. He took her in from the top of her head to the pointed tip of her heels.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  She gripped his lapels and tugged. “Not so bad yourself.”

  “I missed you.” He wanted to kiss her so badly his stomach hurt, but this was a high society affair, and he was certain tugging the star artist into the nearest closet wouldn’t go over well.

  “I missed you too. I’m sorry I had to leave.” She looked around at the art hanging before her. “This had to be done. I had commitments.”

  “I understand. This is your life.” He swallowed hard. “We really need to talk about things.” He wanted to blurt out the words, I’ll go wherever you are, but the timing was all wrong. Tonight was about her. About her success, and her path back from darkness into light.

  She leaned in, and just before her lips touched his cheek, her agent walked over. “Myron Straight would like to talk to you.”

  “Oh,” Sosie smiled. She took his hand and tugged him forward. “Come with me.”

  “Just you, Sosie.” Theresa gripped his arm and yanked him back, and for a second, he felt like they were playing a childhood game of monkey in the middle.

  He released Sosie’s hand. “Go ahead, I’ll be here.”

  “I remember you,” Theresa said. “You sat at the table next to us in that diner.”

  He nodded. “Yes, that was me.”

  Theresa pointed to where Sosie stood next to a man who looked like he jumped off the cover of GQ Magazine.

  “That’s her future,” Theresa said. “Her new stuff is taking the art world by storm, and he owns galleries all over the world. He has what she needs to make her great again.”

  “She’s already great, and her newest work is amazing.” He felt a sense of pride knowing he had something to do with the direction she went in.

  “Where can you take her?”

  He snapped his head from Sosie’s to Theresa’s. “What do you mean?”

  “That man right there,” Theresa nodded toward the guy she called Myron. “He has the power to give her everything she wants—everything she needs. He’s an eagle that she can soar with; you’re a weight that will drag her down.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Is there a reason you’re telling me this?”

  With beady eyes and a cunning smile, she said, “I’m looking after her best interests, and while she might think she’s in love with you, you need to think about it. You took her in and gave her a place when she was vulnerable. That’s not love, it’s gratitude.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “But I do. I’ve basically raised that girl. I’m like her mother.”

  “Some mother. You abandoned her when she needed you the most.” He knew a lot about being left behind.

  “That wasn’t abandonment; that was tough love.”

  “That was bullshit. You cut and run when she was useless to you.”

  “But it sure benefited you for a while.”

  “Now that she’s back and her new art is a hit, you’re here.”

  “As are you. Why is that Baxter? Is it because she’s worth more now?”

  “She always had value to me.” He wanted to reach out and pop her upside the head like Doc did him, but he was confident that would land him in jail. “You’re only interested in a commission.”

  “It would seem that way, but that’s not exactly the truth. I want her to be the best she can be. Few artists get a second chance at being great. Sosie was an amazing child artist, but then, as an adult, she was just another artist.” She pointed at the canvases. “With these, she has a chance to be known as one of the greatest artists of her time, and Myron Straight can do that for her.”

  “Is that what she wants?”

  Theresa laughed. “It’s all she ever wanted. Myron will take her under his wing, and her paintings will be everywhere that counts. Why do you think she asked you to come?”

  The weight of a sledgehammer hit his chest. “She wanted me to share in the joy of her success.”

  “She could have just told you it was fabulous, but you’re here so you can see how important this is to her. You know she packed up her place and put her things in storage.”

  “She what?” Bile rose and burned his throat.

  “She’ll tell you tonight. She’s following her dream. Will you support her or stand in her way?”

  Theresa walked away, and he leaned against a pillar for support.

  He watched the animated conversation Sosie was having with Myron. She laughed and smiled and seemed to light up in his presence.

  She turned toward him and winked, then raised a finger as if to say one more minute. He watched as she shook the man’s hand. The kind of shake that happens when an agreement is reached.

  Was Theresa right? Was Sosie on her journey back to greatness? It was quite a story with her going from being a famous child artist to blending in with the masses, then becoming blind and painting her best stuff. Would his presence be a detriment to her success?

  “Sorry,” she threaded her fingers with his. “Have you looked at the art?”

  “Most.” She led him through the gallery and pointed out the artists and why they were important to the art world.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  She leaned into his side. “We have no secrets. Ask anything.”

  “Did you give up your apartment and pack up your stuff?”

  Her face fell. “Theresa,” she said with disgust and a shake of her head. “She told you? It wasn’t her place.”

  A woman walked over. “Sosie, we need you for a moment.”

  She looked at him and sighed. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.” She walked away and disappeared into the crowd.

  He moved along the wall where her art hung and noticed they had sold all the pieces. Everything she set out to do, she’d accomplished. She delivered the art she was contracted to create, and there was no doubt she’d made enough to pay back the commission to the Albrights, but maybe she’d complete the project now that she could.

  Theresa’s words kept running through his head. Where will you take her?

  “Down, I’ll bring her down.”

  “Excuse me?” An older woman asked.

  “Oh, nothing. Just thinking out loud.”

  “If you’re thinking this woman has the world at the tip of her paintbrush, you’re right. The art world is her oyster.”

  Baxter heard Sosie’s sweet laughter and knew this was where she belonged. His original plan to tell her he’d move here would only stifle her progress as an artist. She’d need to move around to be successful, but he knew she’d feel obligated to stay with him.

  Theresa was right; he’d only weigh her down. If he loved her, he’d turn around and leave. He took one last look at her blue eyes, her brilliant smile, and her art before he walked out.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Sosie finished her conversation and turned, expecting to find Baxter waiting for her, but he was gone. She made the rounds through the gallery twice, looking for him.

  Smiling, as if she’d painted the art herself, was Theresa; speaking with a client about the Love is Blind piece.

  “I’m sure I can get her to part with it. We all have a price.”

  Sosie marched over with her hands on her hips. “No, we don’t all have a price.” She turned to look at the man stand
ing with Theresa. “I’m sorry, but this piece is not for sale.” She laid her hand on her agent’s arm and plastered on a smile. “Can I borrow you for a second?”

  She didn’t wait for Theresa to agree as she pulled her away from the crowd.

  “Let’s get this straight. That picture is not for sale. It belongs to Baxter.”

  Theresa rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, that man wouldn’t know a masterpiece if it was staring him in the face. He probably thinks Legos are sculptures, and Spirograph is art.”

  Sosie laughed. “They could be.” Baxter might not know a lot about art, but he knew her, and he appreciated what she did. He even supported her in a way that no one had, including her agent, who demanded the canvases but offered no suggestions on how to complete the project. “Do you know where he is. Last time I saw him, he was chatting with you.”

  Theresa inhaled. “How was your talk with Myron?”

  Deflection was Theresa’s superpower. She obviously didn’t want to talk about Baxter and was pushing the conversation in a different direction. Sosie assumed Baxter had gone to the restroom, and she would see him in a moment. That’s why she allowed Theresa to move the conversation to Myron.

  “He’s a nice man, but I’m not signing on with him. What’s the deal with you two? I’ve never known you to turn over clients. What’s your percentage on his take?”

  “As long as it doesn’t affect your paycheck, what do you care?”

  She knew there had to be something in it for Theresa. She’d slowed down lately as one does when they age, and she wondered if this was the new arrangement Theresa was making with all her clients. She’d act as the middleman, but Myron and the artist would do all the work.

  “I care because you’re selling me like a pig to slaughter, and I’m not interested. I told you I’m not signing on for another year, or another minute, or another breath. You and I are finished after this show.”

  Theresa waved her finger in the air. “Not so fast, you have the Albright’s to think about.”

  “Not true, I’ve contacted them and explained my situation. They’ve agreed to a refund of the earnest money and are contacting Juliette McKinnon to take on the project.”

  Could someone’s cheeks turn so red and not cause a heart attack? “Juliette? I don’t represent Juliette. You don’t get to renegotiate contracts. That’s my job.”

  “You’re right. You’re fired.” She looked around for Baxter, wondering where he could have gotten off to. “I’ll make sure the gallery pays your percentage.”

  “You can’t do this!” Her voice was so loud, most people within twenty feet of them turned to watch the drama unfolding. “You are worth more than that man can give you.”

  A chill raced through her and settled in her chest. “What did you do?”

  “I did what had to be done. I told him the truth.”

  The heat was back, burning from her gut to her face. “What did you say to him?” She frantically searched the crowd, looking for the only friendly face she knew.

  “I told him he had nothing to offer you. You know that’s the truth. The man is an albatross around your neck, and he’ll only hold you back.”

  “Oh my God, how could you?” Her pitch was high enough to shatter glass. “That man is why I have anything to sell at this show. Unlike you, he didn’t abandon me. He was there for me the whole time.”

  Theresa looked around her. “He’s not here now.”

  “Because you lied to him. What did you tell him?”

  “I told him Myron was your future, and he was your past. I may have mentioned that you packed up your home. I can’t help it if he thought something different.”

  Sosie’s flat hand cracked against Theresa’s cheek. She’d never slapped anyone in her life, but Theresa had it coming to her for years.

  “You made it sound like I was leaving with Myron?”

  Theresa rubbed the sting from her cheek. “It’s for the better, Sosie. This show put you back on the map.”

  Sosie knew she needed to leave before she full-on tackled the bitch to the floor. She spun around and marched toward the gallery owner, who stood in the corner, eyes focused on the fight.

  “My apologies.” She smiled, even though her insides trembled. She knew she had an obligation to stay until the show was finished, but Mark Gallopoli had always been kind to her.

  “I’d say this would be a great time to make a grand exit. People will talk about it for months or until the next time Theresa meddles in her artists' lives.”

  “I’m not her artist.”

  “No, you’re not. I’ve got your new address in Aspen Cove, if anything changes, let me know, and I can forward your check to wherever you’d like.” He moved down the aisle to Love is Blind and lifted it from the wall. “I think you have a delivery to make.”

  Sosie lifted on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for understanding.”

  He laughed. “Who am I to stand in the way of love?” He passed the canvas to her. “Should you ever want to show your future work, just let me know, I’ll always have a wall for you, Sosie.”

  Tears of gratefulness blurred her vision. It was bad enough that there were still cloudy halos, but now the downpour from her eyes made her almost as blind as she had been. She swiped at them and walked out the door.

  Mark followed her and hailed the gallery's driver. “Take her to her hotel.”

  She eased the picture into the back seat of the Town Car and slid in behind it.

  “Where to?” the driver asked.

  “Brown Palace, please.”

  As soon as he pulled from the curb, she took her phone from her pocket and dialed Baxter. When it went to voice mail, she nearly wept. “Baxter, call me. It’s not what you think.”

  What she needed to say to him couldn’t be said over a message.

  She called him once more before they reached the hotel, but remembered he was probably in a dead zone in the mountains on his way back home, and her calls wouldn’t go through until he made it through the pass.

  She thanked the driver as they neared the hotel. The valet opened her door, and she picked up the frame and rushed into the hotel.

  At the front desk, she asked if they had a car service.

  “We do, our driver can take you anywhere within a twenty-mile radius. Shall I call the car for you?”

  “I need to go to Aspen Cove.”

  The woman’s eyes grew wide. “That’s over three hours away.”

  “I realize that, but it’s a matter of”—she wanted to say life and death, but that seemed too dramatic—”importance.”

  “Important or not...” She looked at the clock behind her. “It’s almost ten o’clock.” It was an old-world clock. Something Sosie would have guessed hung exactly where it was when the hotel opened in 1895.

  “People drive at ten o’clock.”

  “I’m sorry, we can’t accommodate that distance.” She opened a nearby drawer and pulled out several business cards. “You can try these companies.” The woman put on her glad to be there face even though she probably wasn’t. No one wanted to deal with a woman who held a canvas tied together by a checkered Vans shoelace and had tears spilling from her eyes. “Would you like me to call?”

  Sosie nodded her head. “Can you? I really need to get there.” Hoping she could pull at the girl’s heartstrings, she said. “I need to deliver this painting to the man I love.”

  The girl lifted to look over the counter. “Don’t you think candy and a sexy teddy would work better?”

  Sosie laughed. “Probably, but I was just offered over a hundred grand for this painting, and I turned it down because his love is worth more.”

  “Go pack, and I’ll see what I can do, Ms. Grant.”

  Sosie leaned in to focus on the woman’s nametag. “Tessa, I can’t thank you enough.”

  She dashed across the marble floors to the elevator and pressed the button. Why was it when she was in a hurry, everything moved like cold molasses?


  The brass arrow of the turn of the century elevator swept a half-circle until it stopped on the ground floor and opened.

  She waited for the woman and her silly shaved standard poodle to exit, then stepped in, pressed floor 5 a half dozen times until the doors closed, and she rose. At her floor, she ran from the elevator like the bees they raised on the rooftop chased her.

  Once the door was open, she moved around the room like an evacuee given a few minutes notice to leave.

  Bag packed and sitting by the door, she plopped in a chair by the phone and waited, hoping Tessa came through. Waiting for the call was like watching an inchworm climb a mountain.

  She figured if she left now, she could reasonably arrive in Aspen Cove in the early morning hours and climb into bed with Baxter.

  After they made love, or before, depending on what he wanted and needed, she’d explain everything. She tapped her fingers on the nightstand and waited and waited.

  Forty minutes later, the phone rang.

  “It’s not a limousine, but I’ve got you a ride.”

  “I’ll be right down.”

  She swung her bag over her shoulder and grabbed the handle of her suitcase in one hand and the painting in the other.

  Thankfully, the elevator was already waiting for her. Her heels click-clacked against the stone flooring as she hurried toward the front desk.

  “Ms. Grant, over here.” Tessa waved to her from the revolving door. “So, I couldn’t get a car for you at the last minute, but I found you transportation. Keep an open mind.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ll see.” She took Sosie’s suitcase and walked out the door.

  The only vehicle sitting in front of the valet was an old Volkswagen van covered in Dutch Brother stickers and peace signs.

  “This is my ride?” She rubbed at her eyes, thinking she was seeing things.

  “It’s all I could come up with at the last minute.”

  A young guy with blond dreadlocks and a Rastafarian hat hopped out of the driver’s side. He moved toward her, but instead of introducing himself to Sosie, he picked up Tessa and twirled her around. “Hey babe,” He pressed his lips to Tessa’s, and Sosie was certain the girl’s knees buckled. “Is this my passenger?”