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Maddox rubbed his free hand over the statue’s belly as well. “Having your wish granted is good luck. I bet we wished for the same thing.”
Probably. “Is the lighting in here good for you, or do you need to set something else up?”
Maddox looked around my back room, and his gaze landed on the counter. He dropped my wrist as his line of sight lingered on the spot where he’d teased Alys to orgasm a few days ago.
“It’s good.” Maddox moved to his camera, which was already set up on a tripod.
Maddox spent a while taking photos. The bulk of the conversation was him telling me how to rearrange lights or figures or tea towels. I expected the stilted conversation though—when Maddox was focused, he visited his own world.
He shot a few rolls each of color and black and white. When he wrapped up, we put everything away.
“I’m going to drop the stuff at Deacon’s.” He nodded at the crate. “Color film at the pharmacy and home—your place to do the other rolls.”
My phone rang, and I held up a finger. “Hang on.” Shit. It was Helen. Though, it wasn’t like I had to hide these calls anymore. “Hey,” I answered, while Maddox watched me expectantly.
“Hey. Buyer’s interested still after all, but they’re talking about changing their offer,” Helen said.
What? “It’s already all in the contract.”
“They just want certain guarantees. Maybe a couple of small updates to the property. Their words.”
“I don’t like that,” I said. “Do you know what they want?”
“Not yet.”
“If it means selling, I’ll consider it.” As I spoke, I glanced at Maddox.
His lips were drawn in a tight line. He shook his head and walked out.
I wanted to chase him, but what was I going to say? It wasn’t as if I was changing my mind, and we all had to get used to the fact that this was happening. “Get back to me with their list and I’ll let you know if it’s doable.”
“Will do. Talk soon.” Helen hung up.
I should be more concerned about the conversation with her, but my mind was already sliding back to Maddox. That scowl. The fact that Alys wasn’t talking to me.
Damn it.
17
Alys
I was slowly forgiving Onyx, or at least accepting that he was about to be gone, but that didn’t make me any less bummed about it. I hated the idea of him being so far away.
To keep me from thinking about him, I poured my mind into the work for Xander. When Maddox sent me a few digital hints from the Rascals photoshoot, I was both happy and sad.
Me: They look great
Maddox: We missed you though.
Me: Next time.
I tossed my phone on the bed, in silent mode, so I wouldn’t wait for his reply. Why did I skip the shoot today? To spite Onyx?
To spite Don.
I’d almost convinced myself his words didn’t bother me, when I ran into him a few months ago. This entire thing with Onyx had me comparing and contrasting the two men, though. The longer Don the Douche stayed in my head, the more his words drilled into me, until it was a struggle to keep from spiraling.
My working late wasn’t because I was avoiding Onyx—or not much anyway—it was because this was a chance to prove I was more than Don said. Not for him, but because I needed to know it.
