Page 79 of You Make Me Feel
Yeah, well so are beautiful redheads who deserve better than assholes who walk out while they’re sleeping.
“Can we change the subject?” I ask, grabbing another pancake because I’m tired of being the center of attention.
“Fine,” West says, stretching his legs out under the table. “Let’s talk about who’s readJane Eyrefor book club this week.”
“This week?” I say. I’d forgotten all about the book club. And the damn book.
“Look at him,” Autumn says, grinning. “The sex was so good he’s forgotten it’s Bro’s Book Club.”
Hudson groans. “Do not say ‘sex’ and ‘bro’ in the same sentence ever again.”
“I second that,” Asher mutters, sending me a sympathetic look.
“You’re all annoying,” Autumn tells them. “You used to be more fun before you got in touch with your inner selves.”
The laughter rolls around the table again, but my smile is tight. Because I know my family and how they’re like a dog with a bone.
And I can’t have them finding out about Sadie. She doesn’t deserve them talking about her behind her back. She’s way better than that.
And now I’m thinking about her again. The feel of her skin. The way she felt when I captured her. Then left without a word.
I push my plate away, appetite gone. I might be surrounded by the people who know me best. But right now, there’s only one woman I can’t stop thinking about.
And she hasn’t answered my last message.
twenty-two
SADIE
“Do you think a nude would be too much for Mylene?” Autumn asks me, standing back to look at the oil on canvas painting.
We’re in the back room of the bookshop, which I offered as temporary storage once the paintings arrive. Each one’s destined for a different shop along Main Street, where they’ll be displayed in the windows as part of the Liberty Art Trail.
Visitors will get a printed map, encouraging them to follow the trail through town, stopping to admire each piece before heading to the hotel to finish the loop. The aim is to bring more eyes, feet, and deep pockets to Liberty followed by the gala night that will put the island on the art world’s radar.
I look at the piece that Autumn’s holding. Next to me, Skyler turns her head to the side, squinting at the vibrant brushstrokes.
“Is that a nipple in the middle of her forehead?” she asks, wrinkling her nose at the pink circle that’s pretty much winking at her.
“I think that’s an eye,” I say.
“Does she have an infection?” Skyler says.
“Ignore her. She’s not exactly a connoisseur,” Autumn mutters. “Remind me, why are you here anyway?” Autumn asks her sister-in-law.
“Because you want to use my bar as a gallery,” Skyler replies, reaching for the next wrapped canvas like she’s lifting a sack of flour. “Also, I brought muffins. Don’t pretend you don’t love me.”
Autumn sighs. “Fine. And I do. Kinda.”
I lift a clipboard off the workbench and start checking off shop names. “Okay, Mylene’s coffee shop gets this painting. Eileen’s Inn is getting the one with the fish. And I still need to find something for the hardware store.” Because the owner decided he wanted to be part of the trail at the last minute.
Skyler raises an eyebrow. “What about the one with the melting toolbox?”
“There is no painting with a melting toolbox,” I say, my brows raised.
“Well there should be. If the guys get nipples, we should at least get some toolboxes. It’s only fair.” Skyler pulls a muffin from her bag and starts unwrapping it.
Autumn gasps. “Do not eat near the art. These pieces are worth tens of thousands of dollars.”
