Page 17 of Wrangling Wade

"Every damn day," I say, swallowing hard. "It was always the two of us against the world. Even after she got sick. I mean, at least until…" I swallow again. "Eventually, it got so bad that she couldn't really speak or move much anymore, but until then, we made the most of it, you know? I took care of her, but I never really felt like I was missing anything."

Wade cups my cheek, brushing his thumb against my skin. "I'm so damn sorry you lost her, baby."

"Me, too. Is…is that why you brought me here?"

"Partly. That sketchbook is the other part."

My brows furrow.

"The new owner, Eve, wants to meet you," he murmurs. "I showed her the drawing you did for me."

"What?"

"You're an artist, Harlow, not a bartender. Art is what you should be doing. Eve can help." He pauses. "If you're willing to meet her. The choice is yours."

I stare at him, shocked. "She wants to meet me?"

"Desperately," he confirms.

I take a deep breath, certain he can feel the way my hand trembles beneath his. An actual gallery owner wants to meet me. It's been…too damn long since that last happened.

"Let's do it," I say.

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"Good girl," he breathes, grinning at me.

Chapter Seven

Wade

Eve isn't just excitedto meet Harlow. She's fucking thrilled from the moment we step over the threshold. Harlow is a little stunned beside me, clinging to my hand like she thinks if she lets go, everything might slip away and she'll wake up back in her bed.

That isn't going to happen, though. This is real. It's what she deserves. I wasn't just flattering her when I told her that her drawing was incredible. I meant it. Even a cowboy like me knows talent when he sees it. And she's talented as hell.

"It's so good to meet you," Eve says, beaming at her. "When Wade showed me your drawing, I was desperate to get you in here."

"Um, thanks," Harlow whispers. "It wasn't my best work."

"Are you kidding? It was fantastic!" Eve says, looping her arm through Harlow's to draw her deeper into the gallery.

I stand back, letting her have this moment. It's about her anyway. She doesn't need me right now. She just needs to soak it in and realize that she deserves this.

"I brought my sketchbook," she says, holding it out to Eve almost like it's a shield.

Eve's eyes light up before she takes it with reverent hands, sinking onto a long bench. Harlow sits beside her, fidgeting nervously as Eve flips through the pages, asking questions about one drawing or another, or offering praise.

She's not even halfway through when she closes the book, passing it back to Harlow. "How soon can you have enough pieces ready for a show?"

"What?" Harlow says, shock written all over her face.

"A show," Eve repeats. "I can absolutely get enough people in here to sell everything you're willing to give me."

"I…I… Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously."