Page 56 of Written with You (The Regret Duet 2)
She stared up at me, her face unreadable. I’d seen that makeshift studio; there had to have been fifty paintings lined against the wall. Some of them had been moved out to the backyard studio, but after it’d flooded with sewage, they’d been moved right back. For what an R.K. Banks original went for, that could have been as much as several million dollars in loss. Willow wasn’t hurting for money, but that kind of loss could be paralyzing for a business. Especially for an artist who had dedicated months of her life creating them.
Her breathing sped. “Wh-what about the ones in my living room? The ones on the wall?”
“He didn’t mention them. But he said the damages were pretty isolated to the garage, your bedroom, and the guestroom. So, I’m assuming they’re okay.”
“Oh, thank God,” she rushed out, her entire body sagging in my arms. Laughing, she patted me on the chest. “Jesus Christ, Caven. You scared me for a minute.”
I quirked an eyebrow, thinking maybe she was in some kind of shock. “Willow, baby, you heard what I said about all the paintings in your studio, right?”
Her lips flapped as she blew out a relieved breath and stepped out of my arms. I reluctantly released her that time.
“Yeah, but those were all junk. I painted them.”
I twisted my lips. “I’ve seen your work. They weren’t junk.”
“Maybe not total junk, but Hadley was the painter in R.K. Banks. I’ve been fooling myself that I could ever fill her shoes. We were a team. That was what made us work. I’ve been trying for months to replicate her strokes. Maybe this was the sign that I shouldn’t.”
“This guy being an asshole isn’t a sign. You spent a lot of time on those paintings.”
“I did. But they’ll never be the same without her. The ones hanging in my house were hers. That’s all I care about. He could have created a bonfire in the backyard with my stuff and it wouldn’t have mattered.”
“What about the stuff in your garage and your bedroom?”
She shrugged. “The boxes were mainly her clothes and a few other things she’d shipped to me in Puerto Rico when she was supposed to be moving there. I haven’t had the heart to go through them yet. I had a few of my mother’s things in my bedroom, but unless he had a fetish for silk scarves, they can probably be salvaged.”
I eyed her skeptically as she swept the paper towel balls into her hand and carried them to the trash. “I told them we’d come by tomorrow morning around ten so they could take a report of what, if anything, was stolen.”
“Okay.”
“Okay? You sure. Having someone break into your house and destroy your property is hard, babe. You don’t have to pretend for my sake. It’s okay to be upset.”
Her deep-red hair brushed her back as she turned to look at me, a peace I never could have imagined only minutes ago gracing her face. “Well, I’m not thrilled about it. But it’s hardly a reason to ruin the night. We’re all safe. He’s gone. And well, the rest was just…stuff.” She stopped in front of me and looped her arms around my hips. “And just think: Now that the coast is clear, you can finally be rid of me.”
This woman. This strong, beautiful, incredible woman. She’d spent the day talking me off the ledge of guilt only to find out her house had been vandalized. And she didn’t care because we were all okay and stuff was just stuff.
I trailed my fingers over the curve of her jaw. “Maybe I don’t want to get rid of you.”
“That’s good considering we haven’t finished our date yet.”
I dipped low and pressed a soft kiss over the bruise on her cheek. “Oh, yeah? How’s that going for you?”
“So far? Five stars.” I grinned until she finished with, “Out of ten.”
“Hey!” I objected.
“I’m not sure if you’re a closer in the boardroom. But there’s still time for you to pick up a few more stars.”
I slid my hands down to her ass. “Oh, I’m a closer.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “You totally just went up a half star.”
After nipping at her bottom lip, I mumbled, “A half star for that? Really? We should have no problems getting you to a ten.” I went in for a kiss, opening my mouth, and as if on cue, Rosalee yelled down the stairs.
“Daddy! Can I have my iPad?”
Willow giggled and shook her head.
I loved my daughter. Truly, I did. But it was times like those where I wished she had an off switch.
“No,” I called back, staring into Willow’s eyes. “It’s bedtime. I’ll be right up to tuck you in.”
“Willow too?”
“Yes, ma’am!” she replied.
And in a demonstration of the utmost maturity, I didn’t even stare at her ass as I followed her up the stairs.
