AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Just you and Gabe?” he wonders, quirking a brow as he starts pushing at my robe. He wants to seduce me out of this meeting because his jealousy is rearing its ugly head. I won’t let him. Not because the meeting is important—because his feelings are important, and he does not need to be jealous.
“Yes. I mean, Brady Lowe may be there, his partner, I don’t know. I wish Aria was, I hear so much about her I would love to meet his wife,” I remind him gently that my possible future boss is very, very married—and to a woman I would not want to cross.
“Aria would like you,” he offers but there is still darkness there as he walks his fingers up my side, “I want you to go and kill it but I hate the idea of you spending today with two rich men,” he grumbles, his knuckles rubbing over my nipple and making my breathing pick up.
“I have spent lots of days with rich men,” I tease him, falling back against the bed and pulling him with, “Connor is stupid rich. And what about you, babe?” I kiss at his jaw, his throat and gasp when he suddenly rubs at my bare sex with his hard shaft. I moan as he makes that throaty sound that tells me he needs me before he pushes inside me. I guess I am letting him seduce me after all. Who cares if I am late? Artists are not known for being punctual.
Bran is rough as he takes me, his kisses brutal, and his touches harsh. His hips throw again and again, and I know I will wind up with bruises. I don’t care. He needs this. He needs to claim me before he sends me off with other men. His doubting himself, or that money means nothing to me, it makes me ache. I hate that he still thinks he can’t give me the life he wants to give me.
It was a huge reason we fought when we were together before. He always said he could never give me the life he thought I deserved. All I wanted was a life with him. I never needed money or fame as an artist or to blow money seeing the world. I just wanted to be with him and have him there to laugh with, to cook me breakfast burritos, and cuddle with me while we made a mess eating them.
We are rich in each other and that is enough for me.
When I shower and dress, he quietly watches me, his tension obvious in his furrowed brow and that tick he gets in his jaw. Dressing in a silk dress that is demure and classy and some sneakers, I go without makeup because I am not going to impress folks. As I fasten a gold necklace around my neck, I catch his eye in the mirror and find him smiling.
“I gave you that freshman year in college,” he murmurs as he comes up, dipping his head to brush his lips over the clasp, as I fasten it, “never saw you without it for most of college.”
“Because I never took it off,” I whisper, closing my eyes as his thick arms go around me and he holds me tight, both of us lost in the memories of our life together.
It’s a dainty gold piece, just circles stamped with delicate designs. Ones he took from my sketch books of his favorite flowers I was obsessed with at the time. I drew them everywhere—including all over his books and homework. He added two smaller circles—a small ‘b’ for him and ‘p’ for me. He is right I never took it off—even after we ended things, I found myself wearing it whenever I missed him or what we had.
“I love you, Bran,” I rasp as he kisses at my neck.
“I love you too, baby,” he presses the words against my ear before slowly dropping his arms.
Turning to him, I loop my arms around his shoulders, searching his eyes. He is less tense, less anxious, but there is still fear there. I hate that I can’t seem to chase all his fears away. But I will. No matter how long it takes me, I will. We gave up too easily before, so I don’t want us to do it again. I want us to fight.
Lifting, I press my lips to his and kiss him the same way I did the very first time we kissed. I was angry at him, and we had been fighting but I was terrified of throwing away our friendship. I knew what we were feeling was not what friends felt for each other. We were at the football field after years of fighting those feelings.
I stepped right off the bleachers and climbed him like a monkey. He did not hesitate to wrap me up and kiss me stupid. It came so natural after that, the two of us. And as he kisses me now and lifts me against him, letting my legs wrap around him, it feels just like it did then. Natural and right and for now, it feels so easy to love him, to be loved by him, and I want it to stay easy for us—but I know it won’t.
“I love you so much,” he pants into the kiss as he carries me out of the bedroom and downstairs. Despite his attempts to stall me and his obvious flare of jealousy, he won’t let me miss this meeting today.
“I love you too. Wish me luck, babe,” I plead gently, wanting him to be as excited about this as I am.
“Go make deals and open galleries and wow those two idiots,” he says, giving me the grin that first won my heart.
“Thank you,” I say softly as I pause at the door, taking a lingering look at him. There is no more darkness there now, just a warmth and pride as he tells me to hurry home but not until I close this deal because I want it, and he says I deserve it.
Two hours and ten visits to locations later, and we have a spot chosen. It was not easy at first. Brady and Gabe are partners but very different men. Both men hinted that they might want the gallery in Crystal Cove, despite our initial agreement to open it here. When we find the perfect spot downtown in some of the newer builds that Brady and his other partners worked on, we agree Harmony Hollow will be the best spot for the gallery after all.
Gabe waves away the idea of a lease with the owner—buying the entire spread of three buildings outright. When they sign agreements and start talking dates for groundbreaking, I want to cry. We are doing it. After all those years away, all my searches across the country for a place to show my work and work with local artists—it's happening right here where I started.
“This is it,” Gabe says with a movie-star smile as we peer up at perfect setting for our new venture,” this is the place. Start of something really special, Paisley. I am so happy we found you.”
Grinning as I flush, I thank him and his partner for taking a chance on me. We decide all three of us will meet a few times this week to get things going and I tell Gabe to bring his wife so I can meet the infamous Aria Holmes. With a warm grin at the mention of his wife, he agrees, and we call it a night.
Driving slowly back to Bran’s place, I take my time going down the same roads I took my first day back. When I was frustrated and furious about being back here again. About failing. I felt I had failed when I was forced to come home, there is no way around that truth. I told anyone who would listen I was going to make something of my passion before I left town.
While I learned a lot while I toured the world, I realize now that I never needed to leave home to make something out of it. I could have stayed here and done just what I am doing now. My hometown may be small, but it is special. There were always plenty of artists just like me, hoping for a chance for someone to give them a space to show their work. I denied them that when I left—and I denied myself what I had been searching for all along.
My parents tried to talk me out of going away after I finished college. Not for reasons most parents do, either. They knew what I was doing when I left. I was trying to run away from what I thought was mediocrity. Not just where my work was concerned—but with everything about my life. Bran included.
Mother tried to tell me I did not need to leave to find what I was searching so hard for. Believing in what she called twin flames, there had never been doubt in her mind that I belonged with Bran. Even when we fought and broke up—a lot of times due to me acting dramatically. I am an artist, after all, a creative creature who feels things big and deep.
“Maybe a storm is coming,” I say to myself as I pull up in front of Bran’s house, taking a moment to be proud of him for all he has done—for how he kept that twin flame flickering here for me to come back and find. He took care of things while I went off to seek what I was never going to find—because it was always here, with him.
“One he thinks we can’t survive,” I continue softly as I see him step out onto the front porch, waiting for me, “but this time we will weather it. Even if we get lost in the current, we will survive it this time. You know why Bran North?” I whisper this to myself as I step out of the car, knowing already the storm has begun.
