Almost in Love (24 page)

“You don’t have to pay me,” Kevin said. “I’ll do it for no commission.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

Barry shook his head, turned, and went back in the house. He started walking around, taking in the space. Lots of large windows. Sunlight streaming in.

Kevin appeared at his side and set about a hard sell, pointing out all of the home’s great features. And when Barry mentioned the need for an art studio, Kevin showed him the detached garage that had been used as a woodworking workshop.

“Do you like it?” Kevin asked. “Do you want to check with Amber first?”

“I do need to check in with her,” Barry said.
Especially since we’re not technically together.

Kevin handed him his card. “Call me anytime for a second showing with her. No commission. I mean it.”

Barry took the card. “All right. Thanks, Kevin.” He turned to go.

“Are you going to do
Grease
next year?” Kevin asked.

Barry opened the front door, not bothering to turn around. “Sure am.”

“I’ll be in the front row cheering you on,” Kevin said.

Barry turned. “You’ll be on stage, right next to me, where you belong.”

Kevin smiled. “Thanks, Bare.”

~ ~ ~

Kate was literally driving Amber insane. Her sister spent the entire week bugging her morning, noon, and night about the party. Kate tried to convince her of the merits of such an event, emailed her articles on the benefits of a patron-sponsored art showing, and texted her repeated demands to go, even when they were sitting right next to each other.

Finally Amber had enough. The party was tomorrow, and Kate had reached a fever pitch of harassment.

“Kate, why do you care so much if I go to this stupid party?” she exclaimed.

Kate didn’t bother looking up from her laptop. “Because I promised.”

“Promised Bare?”

“Yes.”

She sat next to her sister. “Why would you do that? Why would you take his side? I’m your sister.”

Kate regarded her solemnly. “I want to see you happy. This will make you happy.”

“How? My mother will be there.”

“Who cares about her? Barry is who will make you happy. You’re going.”

Amber snorted. “You’re going to have to drag me out of this apartment kicking and screaming to go to that party.”

Kate raised a brow. “The idea has merit. I’ll contact Steph and Daisy.”

In the end, it was a note slipped under her door that night that finally got to her. It said: SUM Together (Bare + Amber) > SUM (NOT) Together (Bare + Amber).

Kate took one look at it and cried, “He’s so romantic! He means you guys are more together than you are apart. Amber, if you don’t go to this party, I swear I will never let you sleep again. I will keep you up every night playing my iBone.”

Amber groaned. The iBone was a trombone on Kate’s iPhone that she was completely obsessed with. She looked down at the sweet equation and felt her insides melt.

“I have to talk to Bare.”

“Yay!” Kate squealed.

Amber took the equation with her across the hall and knocked on his door.

Bare answered looking a lot better than the last time she’d seen him. He’d shaved and had a close, cropped haircut with some spikes on top. She couldn’t resist touching the spikes.

“Nice spikes,” she said.

He smiled, a lopsided smile that pulled at her heart.

“I got your equation,” she said. “Very clever.”

“I meant it,” he said in that growly voice of his that showed so much emotion.

“I know.”

He stepped back. “Come in.”

She stepped inside. “Where’s Ian?”

“He went out for some food.” He gestured to the sofa.

“I’d rather stand,” she said, crossing her arms.

He wrapped his arms around her anyway. “Afraid I’ll have my way with you?”

She shook her head. “It’s just easier to talk if I’m not, you know, in your lap.”

He let her go and sat on the sofa. “Talk to me, love.”

“Kate has been driving me insane about this party. Smart move on your part getting her involved.”

He inclined his head.

“And while I love the idea of seeing my work in a gallery…” Her throat tightened, and she cleared it. “Bare, you can’t just do whatever you think is best for me. I can’t be with someone that doesn’t give any consideration to my feelings. I don’t like you going behind my back. I don’t want you making decisions for me. This will only work if we’re on the same page. You have to talk to me before you do stuff.”

“But you said you liked surprises.” His brows scrunched in confusion. “You like when I’m in charge. You respond very well to that.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she shook her head. “That’s different. Sex is…” She blew out a breath. “Okay, yes, I like when you take charge in the bedroom—”

“Not just the bedroom.”

She held up a hand. “I like when you take charge when we’re naked, okay?”

He nodded, looking pleased she’d conceded the point.

“And sometimes I like surprises. Little surprises. Like the bouquet of paintbrushes you gave me. Or a visit to the beach. Not you’re-having-a-gallery-showing-and-your-estranged-mother-is-showing-up-to-witness-your-humiliation kind of surprise.” She suddenly felt like she couldn’t force out one more word. This was so hard to talk about. Her eyes welled up.

He stood and folded her in his arms. “It won’t be humiliating. It will be a celebration of you and your work.”

She sniffled and looked up at him. “You don’t understand. She’s a great artist who’s
invited
to show her work in galleries. She thinks that’s what this is, but it’s not. It’s my boyfriend had to pay the gallery to show my work. It’s completely different!”

“No, it isn’t. You’re still a great artist.”

She pulled away. “You just don’t get it!”

This had all been a mistake. She thought she could go to the party, but she couldn’t because she couldn’t face her mother. She was nowhere near her mother’s league, and she wasn’t going to let her mother witness her failure.

She rushed to the door and yelped when he grabbed her from behind. Her back hit his warm chest just as his hands clamped on her hips. She grabbed his hands and tried to pry them off her. “Bare, knock it off.”

His voice, low and close, whispered in her ear. “You said you wanted to talk, but all you’re doing is running away. That’s the second time you did that. We’re going to the bedroom where I’m in charge.”

She was so shocked her mind went absolutely blank, which gave him just enough time to sweep her off her feet and carry her into the bedroom.

~ ~ ~

Barry had his hands full of wild, struggling woman, but he still managed to lock the door of his bedroom before he set Amber gently on his bed. He’d intended to pin her there and talk to her before having his way with her, but she rolled quickly off the bed and stood on the other side of it.

She jabbed a finger at him, her eyes wide. “I’m leaving, and you can’t stop me.”

She was fast, but certainly no match for him in size. Besides, he could easily block her path to the door. He was closer to it. “I could stop you.”

She grabbed a pillow and threw it at him before making a break for it. He rounded the bed to block her path when she suddenly bolted across the bed. He managed to grab her by the ankles as she went over, and she landed on the mattress on her belly with a soft, “Oof.” That worked.

“Bare!” she hollered. “Let me go!”

She kicked at him, forcing him to grab both ankles and hold them pinned together out of self-preservation.

“Not until we finish talking,” he said.

She struggled like crazy, wiggling and getting nowhere, her curvy ass in shorts tempting him to touch. Her T-shirt rode up her back, exposing smooth skin and the dip of her lower back that he wanted to lick.

“This is ridiculous!” she hollered.

He looked at her wiggling ass. “This is hot.”

She stilled. A beat passed. When she didn’t move, he released one ankle to cup his hand on her ass. She didn’t protest. He nudged her legs apart and slipped a hand between her thighs. She jolted at the touch, always so responsive to him, and he felt how hot she was. He stifled a groan and had a quick battle with himself—talk and then sex. No, sex fixes everything. Yes, sex, sex, sex.

He had to touch her. His instinct won out, and he covered her, resting his weight on his arms as he pinned her beneath him.

“Amber,” he growled. “You know I love you.”

She turned her face toward his, resting her cheek on the mattress. “I know,” she said softly.

“I’m sorry I screwed things up inviting your mother, but I’m not sorry about the gallery party. That wasn’t done to hurt you. I did that because of how much I love you. Sometimes I go overboard, I know that. I just…okay, listen—”

“Hard not to listen when you’re on top of me.”

He rolled off her and pulled her in close so they were side by side facing each other. He wrapped his arms around her, still not sure if she’d make another break for it. She relaxed in his arms, and he let out a breath of relief.

He pushed her hair over her ear and cradled her face. “I’m probably going to screw up again, going overboard, making some elaborate gesture, that’s who I am, but I’ll try really hard to remember to check in with you. Just don’t…” He choked up and crushed her to him. “Don’t run away from me,” he whispered.

She whispered something back, but he couldn’t catch the words with her pressed so close. He loosened his hold.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“I said there’s no point in running away from you because you’ll just chase me down.” She gave him an impish smile.

He couldn’t help but smile back as his heart filled with love. “That’s right, and I’ll take you to my bed every time. Remember that, wench.”

She snuggled in closer and wrapped her leg over his hip, a position that drained all the blood from his brain in favor of a more important part. His hand cupped her ass, pushing her closer to where he so desperately needed her.

“I know I’m a chicken,” she said, her eyes fixed on some point over his shoulder, “but I can’t face seeing my mom. It’s just going to ruin the whole night. I’m already queasy just thinking about it.”

He wanted to solve this problem as quickly as possible so he could solve his other throbbing problem pronto. He loosened his hold on her, leaving space between their bodies to allow for some brain function. “She’s already here in a hotel in the city.”

She stared at his chest. “How do you know?”

“She got in touch to see if she could stop by the gallery and drop off some postcards and prints of her own.” She stiffened, and he rubbed her arm, trying to soothe her pain. “I told her no, it was your showing, and only one artist would be featured.”

She blew out a breath. “Tell her she can’t come to the party.”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

She raised her chin, finally looking him in the eye. “Yes. I don’t want her there. You never should’ve invited her.”

“But she came all this way. She really wanted to see you.”

Amber went quiet. “It’s me or her. We won’t both be there.”

He understood her reluctance, just as he understood that she needed to face her mother at some point and say whatever she needed to get off her chest. He stroked her hair, studying her, trying to think of the right words.

Her eyes snapped to his. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m fine. I turned out just fine without her.”

“I know you did. And I don’t feel sorry for you, well, I do feel bad you didn’t have your mom but…what about this? What if you meet her someplace ahead of the party? She’ll get to see you. You’ll get a chance to talk. And then you tell her not to go to the party.”

She dropped her eyes to his chest. “A pre-party preemptive move.”

“Yes.”

She bit her lip. Tears glistened in her eyes, and his chest ached in sympathy.

She looked up at him, her eyes watery. “Will you come with me?” she asked in a choked voice.

“Yes.”

She sniffled. “Can you arrange it?”

“I’ll take care of everything.”

And then she broke down in tears. He held her through big, heaving sobs until she was all cried out and sleeping peacefully in his arms. He relaxed for the first time in weeks. He’d help her through this, and then at the gallery, he’d make his big move.

~ ~ ~

Amber’s stomach was churning the next morning, and she couldn’t eat even one bite of food. Kate brought her more lukewarm chamomile tea, which did nothing to ease her nerves. How did one prepare for seeing their mother after fifteen years? She just hoped she was strong enough to get through it.

Bare had called to tell her it was all arranged. Her mother would take the train in to Clover Park. Bare was picking her up, and they’d meet at the park. It was a good plan. Somehow Bare knew, without her saying, that she didn’t want her mother at her apartment. And she didn’t want to be stuck at some restaurant where there could be an ugly scene. The park was neutral territory.

She drove to the park right off Main Street a little early, hoping sitting in the park would ease her nerves. She sat in the gazebo, their meeting place, and closed her eyes. She could hear kids playing in the small fenced-in playground. Their happy shrieks as they went down the slide, the creaky sound of the swings, the small rocking horses going back and forth. And, in brief moments of quiet, she could hear the birds in the trees. Somehow the birdsong relaxed her like nothing else. Maybe it was because it made her think of Bare.

As much as she might hate it, she still had that one little needy part of her that despite everything wanted to see her mother. Even if it was just to finally say goodbye. She hadn’t said goodbye when she was thirteen, hadn’t known it was goodbye. She’d been surly and miserable about the forced visit to her dad’s house, not knowing it was just the beginning of her misery.

But she wasn’t that miserable thirteen-year-old girl anymore. She would say a real goodbye and put the ugliness between her and her mother behind her.

A short while later, she saw Bare, his familiar loping gait walking toward her, a petite woman with red hair by his side. He raised a hand in greeting at her and smiled. She slowly raised her hand, unable to summon a smile. She stood, and then there she was, her mother, right in front of her. She seemed smaller than Amber remembered. Her hair was short and dyed red from its original blond. Her face had lines that hadn’t been there before, but she’d still know that face anywhere. She had an artist’s eye, inherited from her artist mother.