by Jody Holford
Gabby smiled with pure appreciation and gave Shay a quick hug. “I need to go speak to the gallery owner. Why don’t you guys check our jackets and just hang out, have some champagne? Have fun. Buy some art.”
Her words were rushed, and her movements were jerky as she pulled off her coat and passed it to Owen. He grabbed Gabby’s arm before she could escape. Leaning his forehead against hers, he again whispered something only Gabby could hear and Shay saw her shoulders relax, saw her smile as she beamed at Owen. Looking over at Wyatt, Shay saw he was only watching her. Everything inside of her warmed and relaxed.
“I’ll take the jackets,” Owen said after he kissed Gabby and she strolled away. Shay passed hers over and so did Brady.
Wyatt frowned at her as she started to remove the long coat she’d worn over the dress. “How can you scowl when you’re looking at a beautiful woman?” Brady nudged Wyatt in the arm, then removed his own jacket.
Shay had a feeling she knew exactly why he was frowning. She shook her head and handed the coat to Brady. “Stop it. You’re looking at me like my brother Simon did when he picked me up at a party one night. I’d borrowed a dress from a friend, and he lost his mind.”
“Did it look like what you’re wearing now?” Wyatt’s voice was strained. He passed his jacket over to Brady, who looked back and forth between them.
“Why don’t I help you, O? These two need a minute to discuss their wardrobe,” Brady said. Owen laughed, and he and Brady left them alone. Wyatt closed the distance between them.
He put his hands on her hips. “Did it?”
“Did what?”
“Did the dress your brother didn’t like look like the one you’re wearing now?”
Amusement and frustration crowded each other and Shay sighed. “You don’t like my dress?”
Wyatt’s eyes widened. “What? Are you nuts? That dress is killer. I love it. I’d just love it more if you were only wearing it for me,” he said, pulling her close.
His fingers grazed the bare skin on her back and Shay shivered. She wound her arms around his neck and went up on tiptoes. Her heart was skipping just from the sound of his lips saying the word “love.” Twice. She kissed his cheek then whispered in his ear, “I am wearing it only for you.”
Wyatt growled with pure male appreciation and tightened his hold on her. “You sure you don’t want to just go home?”
She smiled and pulled back, taking his hand. “No way. I want to socialize and meet people. I want to look at art, hold your hand, and drink champagne.”
The affection in his gaze as they walked toward the curved staircase made her breath catch in her throat. He squeezed her hand in his own. “Partway there. Let’s get something to drink.”
At the top of the stairs, a blond waitress offered them champagne. Wyatt took two glasses and even though he didn’t flirt or talk more than he had to, the woman still gazed at him with obvious attraction. The calm she’d found in the last half hour dissipated. She could ask him now. He’d tell her, it would be nothing, and they’d have a wonderful night.
Worry tugged at her heart. People milled around her, but she focused on Wyatt, walking toward her with two glasses. She knew his barely there smile was only for her. Pulse scrambling, she tried to find the words. Just ask. Not everyone is hiding something from you.
“Shay?” Wyatt’s brows creased with concern. “You okay?”
Shay nodded, accepting the glass. She took a sip before she spoke. “Why were you so late getting down to the lobby?”
Wyatt’s head drew back slightly. He gave a rough laugh. “I was there before you. What are you talking about?”
Yes, he had arrived before her. She’d stood in the hallway to catch her breath and bite the inside of her cheek to make sure she wouldn’t cry.
“You took a while though.”
Wyatt pulled her close. “I just wanted to look nice. Nerves over taking a hot girl to a fancy place, I guess.”
Shay winced as her heart pinched hard and tight. Tears threatened, but she breathed through them. Stop it. You’re wrecking a good night over nothing. He’s here with you because he wants to be. Then why lie? His fingers came to her cheek and stroked softly.
“Are you sure you’re all right? You don’t have a headache, do you?”
She had his concern. Just not his trust. Her heart throbbed, like a giant, pulsing bruise. Breathing deep hurt so she kept her breaths shallow. With a curt nod, she turned, tightening her grip on the stem of her glass.
“We came to look at art. Let’s do that,” she said.
Wyatt was a perfect date. He stayed by her side, attentive and sweet. Every time she met his gaze, his eyes were equal parts concern and affection. When they came to Gabby’s work, she couldn’t hide her gasp of awe. Wyatt’s front came to her back, and his hand wound its way around her body to rest on her stomach.
“I knew she had talent, but this is beyond what I expected,” Wyatt said. The words, spoken softly, brushed over her ear. The music and noise of background chatter would have made it difficult to hear him if he hadn’t been standing so close.
For a moment, she forgot about everything else. With Wyatt’s arm holding her close, she took in the first painting. It was breathtaking. Elegant and simple, yet the colors seemed to scream with emotion. There were five canvas prints. Each of them had a heart. In the first, colors swirled, nearly drowning the heart in thick brushstrokes and swirls. Shay had to follow the lines of color to actually see the heart lost in the center of the chaos. The piece was titled “Waiting.” The next few were similar but completely different. Hearts, thick and thin brushstrokes, swirling colors storming the page, but it was like each of them told a different story. In line, the heart grew bolder, stronger, and bigger with every canvas. When they got to the end, the sweetness of the final print twisted Shay’s own heart, tangling all her thoughts and making her feel as if Gabby’s emotions were jumping off the image.
The heart was the focal point but it was blurred, like an abstract heart, and the lines brushing across it resembled an infinity symbol or linked fingers. The color in this one was bold and triumphant. It was then that Shay realized, looking back at the others, that the color increased with each print. In the end, when the heart stole the show, the color radiated from the canvas. It was called “Found You.”
“They are just exquisite. I saw some of her art at their apartment, and she has these little doodles and drawings everywhere, but seeing it together like this, in this one series, it’s breathtaking,” she said, her hands clasped together against her chest.
When she looked up over her shoulder, Wyatt was looking down. Their mouths met and before she could remember that she was upset, she lost herself in the strength of his solid frame surrounding her, his mouth making her feel much like the paintings did. The sweetness of the moment healed the piece of her heart he’d stepped on. Maybe she needed to have more faith.
He pulled back and kissed the tip of her nose. “That really is one hell of a dress, baby. It’s just missing one thing,” he said.
Still dazed from the kiss, she wobbled a little when he stepped back and turned her to face him. He set both of their now empty glasses on a nearby table and came back to stand in front of her. He was reaching into his right pocket when he stopped and frowned. She saw the buzzing of his phone against his chest. At least he’d put it on vibrate.
Don’t answer. But he did. He looked down at the screen and all of the warmth and hope she’d felt vanished. The hard look on Wyatt’s face surprised her.
She clasped her hands together. “Everything okay?”
He glanced up. “Yeah.”
Clearly it wasn’t. He texted someone and stared at the screen. Before she could suggest they look at something else, he tucked his phone in his pocket and put a hand on her shoulder.
“I need to go outside and make a phone call. Stay here.”
He started to go, hesitated slightly, and then leaned forward to kiss her. Shay turned her cheek, and if
he realized the significance of this, he didn’t let it show. Instead, his mouth brushed her jaw and he turned, walking toward the staircase.
Shay’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt. Not nearly as bad as his abrupt departure or cold directive to stay put. No please. No explanation.
“Need a drink?” Brady appeared at her side, two glasses in his hands.
“Yes,” Shay said, taking one and swallowing down half the flute.
Brady arched an eyebrow. “Art makes you thirsty,” he said, his easy grin reminding her that things could have been different.
Despite Wyatt’s lack of social graces and abrupt attitude, it had been he who’d captured Shay’s heart. She’d thought she’d grown up a bit, learned from her mistakes. Why couldn’t she have learned from her mistakes?
“Earth to Shay. You okay?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
“Owen’s going nuts with all these people around. Gabby told him we could head out in the next hour. Sound okay with you?” He looked around. “Where’s Detective Moody?”
Even his casual humor couldn’t slow the hurt overflowing inside of her. “He had to step outside. I’m just going to see what’s keeping him.”
She gave Brady the glass and turned, but he called her name.
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“No. I’m fine.” And she would be. Eventually, she thought as she made her way down the stairs, through the thinning crowd.
Outside, the frigid air was a shock to her bare shoulders and back. She didn’t see Wyatt on the sidewalk. The street was fairly quiet. Town cars, limos, and a variety of other vehicles lined the street on both sides. An usher, wrapped in a scarf, jacket, and toque, was texting.
He wouldn’t just leave, would he? Like he’d heard her question, Wyatt was in front of her.
Before she could say a word, he gripped her shoulders. The heat of his hands was welcome, even if his tone was not. “What the hell are you doing out here?”
“Excuse me?”
He looked around then tugged her toward the stairs. “I told you to stay inside.”
Shay pulled out of his grasp, her temper warming her body enough to block out the cold. “You’re not my keeper, and I think I’ve mentioned I don’t like being told what to do.”
Looking around again, he came closer, took a visible breath, and spoke with more calm. “Is it too much to ask that you just trust me for one goddamn minute and do what I’ve asked? Please.”
His please sounded almost like a curse. Shay faced him, wishing she’d worn higher heels so they could be eye to eye. “Yes, actually. It feels like way too much to trust you now, seeing as you just lied to me earlier tonight.”
Instead of listening in, the usher turned away, but Shay didn’t care if they had an audience. Wyatt yanked off his suit jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, using his hold on it to pull her close.
“What are you talking about?”
He wanted to do this now? Fine. “I saw the blonde leaving your apartment, Wyatt. Even then, I trusted there was a reason. But instead of giving me that reason, you lied. And the worst part is, I don’t think you’d cheat on me. But I also don’t think you’ll ever trust me enough to truly let me in. I’m done with half-way relationships.”
His mouth tightened. When he spoke, the sound was almost guttural. “Shay. Please. Don’t do this right now. We’ll talk later. At home.”
She sucked in a breath of freezing air and pulled away from him. “There’s no need. There’s clearly nothing to say.”
She turned away from the gallery and walked away, her heels tapping on the sidewalk and her heart breaking in her chest.
Chapter Seventeen
Wyatt was shaking from the inside out. What the hell had just happened? His shock wore off about five seconds after she walked away from him. He started after her as Brady came down the steps.
“Dude, what’s going on?”
Wyatt looked at him. Everything had been perfect. Instead of coming apart stitch by stitch, everything had been torn away without warning. “Shay just took off.”
He ran in that direction, not caring if Brady followed. He’d already texted Jimmy his location and what was happening on his way outside just to be safe. Jake had texted saying he needed to talk to him and when Wyatt had basically said take a hike until tomorrow, Jake had said he was outside. He’d just gotten rid of the overanxious idiot before Shay came out. Jesus, how was she moving so fast in heels and where the hell was she going?
“Slow down,” Brady said.
Wyatt didn’t respond to him. “Shay,” he called. She didn’t turn around.
He and Brady were closing the gap as she rounded the corner of the dark, mostly deserted block. They both stopped short when Shay screeched and was yanked forward. Brady started to charge toward the tall, thin, dark-haired man with a greasy goatee who was holding Shay. But Wyatt saw the glint of the gun and grabbed his arm.
“Smart move,” he said, nodding at Wyatt. “Hands where I can see them.”
Wyatt could hear Shay murmuring or whimpering, and he could feel Brady vibrating beside him, but he blocked them both out.
“You going to take us all down on a quiet street full of residential houses, Ice?” Wyatt kept his tone conversational as he and Brady raised their arms.
The guy smiled, adjusted his grip on Shay’s arm, and pulled her closer. Wyatt kept his eyes on the target, knowing he would completely lose it if he looked at her right now. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Nothing was supposed to hurt her again.
“You have me at a disadvantage, knowing my name. You’re moving in on my boy, but what you don’t know is whatever product he’s trying to sell you, it’s mine.”
Wyatt felt Brady’s eyes on him and prayed he’d stay still. Wyatt shuffled forward a minute amount. Ice didn’t know he was a cop. That might work in his favor. Or not. “Where is Jake, anyway?”
Like they were talking about baseball, Ice leaned on the car he and Shay were standing closest to. It was dark and there was no emblem on the front, but it looked like an Impala. Ice tapped his gun on the hood of the car.
“He’s having himself a little nap in my trunk.”
Wyatt’s brain was like a sandstorm. He couldn’t see his way out. Focus. Do your goddamn job. Treat this like you would any other situation with the possibility of a civilian casualty. If he thought about the fact that it was Shay being held at gunpoint, he’d fall apart and that wouldn’t help anyone. He purposely kept his tone aloof, pretending Shay was no one to him. “Who’s the girl? Why don’t you cut her loose and we’ll talk?”
Ice snarled. “What do you mean who is she?” He waved the gun between them. “She’s with one of you.”
Was he guessing or had Shay said something to the dealer when he’d grabbed her? Don’t show your cards. Wyatt shrugged and looked at Brady, who’d laced his hands behind his head. “She with you?” He hoped his eyes transmitted what he needed Brady to say.
Brady shook his head. “Nope.”
Wyatt forced himself to meet Shay’s gaze. Fury burned as bright as fear, and his heart shot up to his throat, pounding like a racehorse on the final lap. She met his stare and gave an almost imperceptible nod. That’s my girl. He’d always want to protect her, but she was completely right about being able to take care of herself and hold her own.
They were maybe ten feet apart when Wyatt went with his gut. Widening his eyes and looking past Ice, he shouted, “What the hell is that?”
As Ice turned, he yelled again at Shay. “Now!”
She stomped on the dealer’s foot with her heel, and Wyatt shoved Brady to the side as he rushed forward, ignoring Shay as she fell to the ground. He launched himself at Ice who was half turned, gun in one hand, which went off—the shot going wild, but fortunately missing any of them. He hoped. He heard Shay scream again as his fists pummeled into the dealer’s face. In the back of his mind he could hear sirens, but it wasn’t until Brady was yanking on
his arm that he realized what he was doing.
“Enough. Wyatt, stop,” Brady said, his tone sharp, cutting through Wyatt’s angry haze.
Sirens and tires squealed and everything else fell away. Wyatt was moving through a thick fog, Brady helping him to his feet. Jimmy was there, gun drawn. Another officer got Ice off the ground while Jimmy picked up the dealer’s weapon from the sidewalk. Wyatt turned to see a female officer wrapping a blanket around Shay’s shoulders.
He walked toward her, stopping just before they were touching. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. He would rather have felt the bullet from Ice’s gun than watch her cry. Brady came to stand beside him.
“Wyatt, you okay, man?” Jimmy asked, his voice booming in the dark night. Wyatt couldn’t tear his eyes off Shay. She was okay. No thanks to him, but she’d be fine.
Jimmy clapped him on the back. “Wyatt?”
Brady spoke quietly. “You want me to take her home?”
Wyatt was still looking at her when he nodded. Brady held out a hand and Shay took it, letting the blanket slip away from her shoulders. One of the officers grabbed it as Brady pulled her closer. Another kick in the throat. Jesus Christ. How had this all gone so bad?
As Brady put his arm around Shay’s shoulders, Wyatt noticed she wasn’t wearing his jacket. It had fallen onto the ground. He picked it up and held it out to Brady, who nodded, took it, and tucked it around her before pulling her close again.
“They need to make a statement,” Jimmy said.
Wyatt forced himself to shut out the emotions making him want to rage. “Get a uniform to give them a ride home. Take the statement there.”
Jimmy nodded and Wyatt turned to deal with the situation. Lights were flashing; cops milled around. His partner had his back, even if it was almost seconds too late. Ice was sitting in the back of a patrol car. Without looking over his shoulder—because if he did, he’d race after Shay and pull her into his arms and never let her go—he walked into the fray. He’d do his job and figure everything else out later. As his feet pounded on the pavement, his heart ripped like a razor had slid down the surface of the organ, painfully slow, draining him of happiness.
