Page 22 of Beg for You

Back then he’d refused to even consider breeding horses again, so I’d been forced to find something else I was passionate about.

Now I wondered why he’d suddenly changed his mind. Had he known it would bind me even tighter to our property? Had he made plans with Spencer even farther back than he was letting on?

“Where were you thinking for this one?” Ted asked as he strode over to me, pointing to the painting still leaning against the wall.

It was one of his own. I thought it might be his best yet.

Our mothers had been best friends when we were kids, so I’d known Ted and his brother most of our lives, despite our families being in completely different social circles. When we went to college our own friendship had strengthened.

Ted became my best friend, and I couldn’t do without him.

He was also an extremely talented artist. His work often sold before I got it up on the wall. Still, he only released a few pieces a year. He said he liked working here, even though I thought he could make more money painting full time. I couldn’t say I wasn’t happy about this, though. I wasn’t sure I could do this without him.

I turned to my friend, then glanced down at the painting. “I was thinking the back wall so it’s the first piece you see when you walk in.”

He smirked. “The other artists will think you’re playing favorites.”

“You are my favorite. If they don’t like it, they can suck it.”

“Suck it?” Ted parroted. “Suck what, good girl?”

He was teasing me, of course, but I guess for me suck it was kind of out of character.

I shrugged. “Since I decided to dislodge the carrot up my butt and start living.”

Ted’s brows lowered. “Who are you and what have you done with my friend?”

I didn’t look at him. He was too astute, could read me like a book, and he’d know something was bothering me as soon as we made eye contact. I stayed focused on his latest painting. A nude. Ted painted real people with all their flaws and imperfections. His model for this piece was a military veteran. She stood proud, her strong, scarred body captured in a way that was nothing short of beautiful.

If only I could find half of her courage.

Her scars made me think of Cal. Everything made me think of Cal. It felt like forever, not four days since I showed up at his door and begged him to finish my tattoo. Since I’d lost my head and he’d made me come so hard, I’d been in a jumble of fear and excitement, of desperate need.

I still hadn’t decided if I was going to go to my appointment tomorrow, because the way he made me feel could become addictive.

“And wear a skirt.”

I shook off my thoughts, Cal’s voice echoing through my head, and glanced at Ted. “She’s sick of letting other people push her around.”

Ted crossed his arms over his wide chest. “Has something happened? Has your father said something—”

“No,” I said, cutting him off. I hated lying to him, but he’d lose his mind if he knew what my father had asked of me, how he was manipulating me. “No. It just…I don’t know, life’s too short and all that.”

Or in my case, time was running out. I’d never been able to say no to my father. He knew this. He also knew exactly how to get me to do what he wanted. But going as far as using my gran’s health to bend me to his will? Asking me to marry someone to save him? That was a new low.

I still couldn’t believe he expected me to do it. I’d been waiting for his call all week to say he was sorry, that he knew he was asking too much, and to forget the whole thing. But the call hadn’t come, and then talking to Gran this morning, and seeing him, I knew that wasn’t going to happen.

Everything in me rejected the idea. But I couldn’t think of a way out of this mess just yet. I knew I couldn’t sit by and watch my family be destroyed. Gran hurt. Watch my father’s business fall apart, watch him and Gran lose their home, lose everything.

“Ceecee…” Ted started, using the name he’d called me since we were ten.

I forced a bright smile. “Honestly, there’s nothing wrong.”

He was about to start grilling me. He had his interrogation expression front and center, little frown lines creasing his forehead. He opened his mouth.

“Are you busy tomorrow night?” I blurted.

His head tilted to the side, eyes narrowing. “Why?”