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Laughing, we all agreed that “hot” was definitely a plus in any romantic partner.
The night continued with more margaritas and junk food, and we popped in another rom-com that none of us actually watched. We chatted and laughed while finishing our facials and nails. The evening wound down quickly when Margo checked her phone and announced, “Clawson is about to come here and haul me away caveman-style if I don’t get home soon.”
Lola was the most inebriated of us, her human alcohol tolerance being far lower than that of us shifters. Audrey graciously offered to drive her home since they lived close to each other, and Lola had arrived with us.
“Thanks, Audrey,” Lola slurred as we quickly cleaned up the room and made it presentable again.
I walked the girls out, waving goodbye as they climbed into their cars. As soon as the front door was closed and locked, I raced through the house to find Ridge. It was silly that I’d missed him even though we’d been in the same house, but my wolf and I were eager to be near him again.
“Ridge?” I called out, trying not to sound desperate. With each step I took, images of what it would be like to marry him filled my mind. I tried to tell myself that I was setting myself up for disappointment, but I couldn’t deny how real those feelings had become. More real than I’d ever been willing to admit before.
Chapter 22
Ridge
The scent of Tori’s delicate perfume hit my nose moments before she poked her head through the doorway of my office. Her eyes held a gentle warmth, her face free of worry. She’d had a good time with the girls. It brought me joy to see her connect with others and form new friendships in Blackwood Creek. It was such a contrast to the closed-off, frightened woman she’d been when she arrived.
“Hey,” she said as she stepped into the room.
“Hey,” I whispered softly, feeling a rush of warmth and affection. I admired the way her body moved beneath the fabric of her dress, clinging to her curves as she walked towards me, her movements a sensual dance. It was late. I shouldn’t have been buried in business proposals and emails. I should have been in bed, buried in her.
“Working overtime again? Your boss must be a real hard-ass,” she teased as she sat on the edge of my desk, absentmindedly toying with a pen.
“Yeah, he’s a real slave-driver,” I laughed. “I’m almost done.”
“Good.” She smiled and leaned in, brushing her warm lips over my cheek. The feel of her lips on my skin waselectric, igniting something deep within me, and my entire body responded to it.
She was more relaxed than I’d seen her in days, her shoulders loose and her movements fluid. The alcohol had loosened her up, but she wasn’t wasted, just pleasantly buzzed.
“You’re overworking yourself, Ridge.” I could hear the subtle tone of concern as she continued. “Come with me, and let’s de-stress a little.”
“I’d like that.” In fact, I liked that idea a hell of a lot more than I could possibly express.
“Good. Follow me.” Tori’s laughter filled the air as she led me away from my office, her hand wrapped around mine. To my surprise, instead of leading me to the master bedroom, she stopped outside the spare room she’d been using as a makeshift art studio.
With a sly grin, she let go of my hand and walked into the room, then turned to me with a slow, seductive curl of her finger, gesturing for me to follow her.
“Painting?” I raised an eyebrow, trying to hide my surprise. “That’s how you want us to de-stress?”
“Trust me, Ridge. Don’t overthink it. All you need to do is pick up a brush and paint.” As she spoke, she directed my attention to the easel holding a fresh, blank canvas.
“If you say so.” I picked up a brush, awkward and out of my element. It had been more years than I cared to think about since I’d picked up a paintbrush, let alone put it to use and attempt to create something with it.
“All right,” I said uncertainly. “So what’s the first step?”
“Choose a color that speaks to you, and just go for it.”
I glanced at the array of colorful paints laid out before us, feeling more than a bit overwhelmed. I was immediately struck by a vivid shade of crimson. It reminded me of Tori’s fiery spirit—powerful, passionate, and bold. I was instantly drawn to it.
“Okay, I’ll start with this one.”
“Great choice. Now, dip your brush into the paint and make a stroke on the canvas. Don’t let your thoughts get in the way. Let your instincts guide you.”
I hesitated a moment before making a bold, jagged line across the blank white surface. “Like this?”
“Good,” Tori said, nodding. “Now, don’t hold back. Just let it all out.” Tori dipped her own brush into a bright shade of blue, her eyes sparkling with delight. She added her own strokes to the growing chaos of colors on the canvas. “See? Isn’t this fun?”
I smiled as we continued to paint, our brushes moving in tandem, guided more by intuition than any sort of artistic skill. As we painted, the day’s tension slowly melted from my body, and a sense of peace came over me, moored by my connection with the woman beside me.
