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Take last week, when she'd visited a prospective client--God, now they were clients! The woman wanted a cherub or something equally mediocre for her garden. And Charlie had felt absolutely nothing. She couldn't have summoned a vision if the lady had offered a million dollars. But, with big Magnolia Gardens bills to pay, she'd signed up to make a cherub. Somehow she had to find a way to feel like an artist again rather than a worker on an assembly line.
She thought about slipping off her high heels to rub her feet, but, despite being sidelined, she was sure someone would see her. Closing her eyes for a few precious moments, she willed every thought to drain away. Breathe in, breathe out. Maybe it was the clearing of her mind that suddenly let in the voice. Or maybe it was Sebastian's name that made her prick up her ears.
"She's just a little nobody Sebastian found in the wilds of Los Altos. One of his projects. You know how much he likes to save the underprivileged."
Charlie didn't have to peek around the edge of her alcove to know that voice. Whitney Collins. Evan's wife sucked up to important people with the nicest, sweetest voice. The rest of the time, she was catty and mean.
"Now she's the toast of San Francisco because she's sleeping with him. Although what he sees in her is beyond me. I swear, she reminds me of an undomesticated animal. You can dress up the ratty cat, but we all know what's still beneath the sequins and pearls, don't we?" The women laughed. "Don't breathe a word of what I've said, of course. Evan will get his shorts all bunched up, even though I've told him in no uncertain terms that he'd better not bring home one of her creations." Her tone suggested Charlie's work was something you'd stuff in a doggie-waste bag.
Charlie slipped off her shoes and curled her feet up on the bench. Really, if she didn't care what Whitney said about her, then she really didn't care if anyone caught her massaging her toes. She recognized some of the other voices joining Whitney's, women who had fawned over Charlie earlier, told her how fabulous her art was, begged her to fit them into her schedule. Of course, Sebastian had been at her side. They were the mean-girl clique from every teenage TV movie, their glittery world filled with sycophants and backbiters.
Charlie wanted honesty and reality, and while there were absolutely some very nice people at these parties, too many in this brightly swirling society were on the opposite end of the spectrum. Which was why Charlie didn't care enough to feel hurt by the gossip. She loved the things she found in junkyards, and she'd never stop no matter what they said. Fortunately, there were enough people like Sebastian and Walter Braedon to drown out their catty negativity. As far as Charlie was concerned, all Whitney's comments did was reveal the mean-spirited woman she truly was, with beauty barely skin deep.
More than once, Charlie had wondered why--and how--Sebastian thrived in this world. But whether she understood it or not, the fact was that he did. She loved him, so of course she would fully support him in anything he wanted or needed to do.
And yet...she realized how important it was to him that she love it just as much, that she fit in and glitter as brightly as the rest of the peacocks. Yes, she'd met people she liked--the Mavericks, Walter Braedon, and many others--but there were far too many like Whitney Collins.
The very last thing in the world Charlie wanted was to hurt Sebastian in any way. But this social whirl was becoming harder and harder to live in.
No, she hadn't forgotten why she was doing this. To pay for her mother's care. And, honestly, to finally receive some validation and recognition for her art. But she'd begun to wonder if she wanted this new path of success and endless commissions as much as Sebastian wanted it for her. There were so many things she missed from her life before he'd walked into it and changed everything.
She missed her students, but she kept shoving all the letters from the college into that same drawer in the bungalow. She loved teaching, loved watching her pupils grow and stretch themselves. There were some that were all about gaining a marketable skill, getting a job, and having a career, which was great, but there were others who visualized masterpieces. She missed helping each one find the path he or she was meant to take.
She missed creating just for the sake of creating--following inspiration without a goal or a commission or even a plan.
And, oh, how she missed the quiet. Especially in the evenings, when she used to either curl up with a book or on the couch in Sebastian's arms.
Now, she was constantly on the hunt for appropriate dresses, heels, and hairstyles. She reached up to massage her face with one hand, realizing that even her jaw hurt from the constant smile pasted on her face.
Was it only a few weeks ago that Sebastian had asked her if things were better? It seemed like forever. Early on in their relationship, she'd known that having him in her life was better than any love story she could have dreamed up. But the rest of what came with loving Sebastian was still up for consideration...
"There's the congressman," Whitney's voice grated its way back into her thoughts. "I need a word with him."
Whitney passed Charlie's alcove a moment later without even noticing her. She thought fleetingly of confronting the woman, but Sebastian would probably hear of it and make a huge deal out of Whitney's insults. After his outburst about how toxic Whitney was, Charlie was sure he'd love taking the woman on. But Charlie didn't want a scene. It was just another thing to handle when all she wanted to do was get out of here, finish the chariot, then fall asleep in Sebastian's arms.
"There you are. I've been looking everywhere."
He leaned close for a steamy kiss, and she simply melted into him. When he finally drew back, she whispered, "You have no idea how much I needed that." She laid her hand on his stomach, all his beautiful muscles flexing beneath her fingertips. This was what she craved. Sebastian's smile, Sebastian's mouth on hers, Sebastian's arms around her. "Any chance we can head back soon?"
"Of course." Relief nearly swamped her. Until he added, "Ty Calhoun and his wife Julie want to meet you first--they have an excellent commission for you. Then I promise we'll go."
She recognized their names--he was a local pro football player and she was a prominent image consultant. Two more new people to meet. She could do it. If... "Another kiss first, please."
Sebastian gave it to her, hot and sweet but way too short. "There's more where that came from on the way home. Over every inch of your body."
"In the limo?" Oh God...just thinking of the things he could do with his hands and mouth made her want to drag him off to the limo, pro football players and their commissions be damned.
"Why do you think I brought the stretch instead of the helicopter? That way I don't have to wait until we're home to put my hands all over you."
She truly did love everything about him--the way he smelled, the way he tasted, the way his mind worked. Which was why she made herself put her feet down and slip the shoes back on. "Okay, let's do it. But only because you've promised me a very sexy reward when we're done."
He raised a wicked eyebrow and whispered to her, sending a delicious shiver through her. "Oh baby, it's going to be the best damned reward you've ever had."
He was her reward. Not just his touches or his kisses, but simply being with him.
She would keep going, for him, because he wanted so many good things for her. And maybe there would come a day when they wouldn't have to hustle, when they wouldn't have to worry about hoarding every dime for her mother, when she could create for herself instead of for everyone else.
They stood and she looped her arm through his. She'd get through this last introduction. Then he was all hers. Until the next party, at least.
