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I tear the paper and look at the painted canvas. She’s painted my jersey, but it’s more than that. It’s stylized. My jersey hanging in a locker with my gloves on the shelf above the jersey, my skates standing underneath, the blades a shining silver.
But next to my jersey is another, smaller, child-sized withDaniels IIacross the back. A pair of tiny skates are sitting on the bench in front of the locker.
“Oh, Sloan. It’s incredible.”
“I sketched it one day when you were practicing.”
I’m overwhelmed. “Sloan…” I can’t stop looking at it. “Thank you.”
I pull her in for a hug, a kiss, and a second of looking down at her. Somehow, the powers that be knew exactly who I needed and they gave her to me.
And now that I have her, now that she’s really mine…
I’m never going to let her go.
27
SLOAN
Beck has meetings all day with his management team and his agent, so I have an entire block of time with nothing to do. It’s been a while since I’ve had a carefree day.
Not that I don’t have things to care about; I mean, I’m still being stalked. My picture has been in two different tabloids in the last two days with headlines that just ask who the hell I am. The Bloodhound still wants his money.
But the house is quiet and I am inspired. I’ve decided I want to paint a mural on the wall in the nursery. At first, I was going to go with an under the sea theme, but now, I want to do a carnival and hot air balloons. I’ll probably change my mind again if I sit around on my behind and contemplate, so I force myself to just get started so I don’t hem and haw for the rest of eternity.
I make a rough sketch on paper, splash some color here and there just to get an idea of how everything blends, then walk into the nursery to start outlining. By the afternoon, I’ve recreated my sketch on the wall, convinced myself that I’m not going toruin my baby’s life if I choose the wrong theme, and started painting.
I’ve just finished painting one of the Ferris wheel cars when Beck comes in. I wince; I probably look like I’ve bathed in paint. My hair is tied back with a bandana and my blue bib overalls are dotted with every color under the sun. I’m a hot mess in every sense of the phrase.
But when I turn to look at him, his smile is everything. “Sloan…” he murmurs in a reverential voice, like he just walked into a church, “this is fucking incredible.”
I can’t help but smile shyly. “You think so?” His praise is like a warm blanket draped over me. I want to wrap myself in it. “Do you like it?”
“Iloveit.”
“You really don’t mind that I’ve painted your walls?” I hadn’t thought to ask because I was so inspired and so excited about it, but suddenly, I’m afraid he’s going to get mad that I’m defacing his property.
He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he walks toward me, leans down, and wraps his arms around me from behind. “They’reourwalls.”
Then he kisses me.
It’s a soft kiss, a barely-there kiss, the fluttering kind of brush of the lips that makes me feel light and jittery all over. Now that he’s here, the sunlight coming through the slats in the window blinds seems so much brighter and more golden.
“That was a pretty good kiss,” I mumble when he breaks away.
He winks. “There’s more where that came from.”
“I—” The words fall away when I realize I’ve left a spot of green paint on his stark white shirt. “Oops. I ruined your shirt.”
Beck glances down and sees the damage. When he looks back up, his eyes are sparkling. “Oops, indeed. Guess I’ll have to get rid of it.” Without looking away from me, he rips the shirt open. The buttons pop off and clatter as he tears it off of his torso and drops it beside him.
I love art. I like making it. I like looking at it.
But there isn’t a painting alive that’s half as good as a shirtless Beckett Daniels, smirking at me and making bedroom eyes.
He loops an arm around my waist and drags me close to him. One of his hands wanders and slips the strap of my overall off one shoulder, then the other. A slow, sensual smile spreads across his face.
“I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to resist you, Sloan Reeves. We’ll be old and gray in the nursing home and still fucking like rabbits.”
