Final Play (Matchplay Series) (11 page)

She laughed. “You read my mind. How do you always ma
nage to do that?”

“The same way you manage to read mine.”

We both dropped our menus and stared at each other.

“This is going to sound crazy,” she said. “But do you ever feel like we’re two pieces of a broken heart that have been finally reunited?”

“That wasn’t the metaphor that struck me but it does seem apt. I thought we were like two socks that finally found their match.”

Ella grinned. “I like that one, too.”

I snapped my fingers. “I know. We’re like two lone chopsticks that are finally part of a set.”

She frowned.
“Except we’re at a Mexican restaurant.”

“It’s still a good metaphor,” I argued.

“Yeah, it is pretty good,” she agreed. “Two pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly together?”

I nodded.
“How about two sides of the same coin?”

We were having so much fun that neither of us noticed that a waitress had appeared and was ready to take our order.

We stuffed ourselves on spinach enchiladas and chili rellenos. I liked that we shared both meals, so we got to experience both dishes. We were both so carefree and easy with each other. I felt like we brought out the best in each other.

“I can’t possibly eat another bite,” Ella exclaimed as she dropped her fork to her plate. “It was too good. I’m stuffed.”

“Me, too,” I agreed. “There’s not much left though.” There were just a few bites left of each meal.

Ella grabbed my hand and looked into my eyes. “I want to thank you.
For coming with me on this trip. For the amazing necklace. For being with me.”

“There’s no place else I’d rather be,” I said as I rubbed her hands with my thumbs.

“I’m really excited about the exhibit tomorrow and meeting Cheyenne Robison. His work is amazing!”

I had to admit a twinge of jealously surged through me when she talked about the artist in such glowing terms. I knew it was ridiculous but the feelings were still there. Then I wondered what the guy looked like. The only basis I had for comparison was her
friend
Steel. Did all artists who worked with metal look like him and his friends? I knew I had to stop ruminating about it. Ella was here with me and that’s what mattered. Right? I might have felt a little less insecure if she had told me that she loved me and that I was the guy she wanted to be with. That I wasn’t just Number 59.

“What’s wrong?” Ella
tilted her head in the way that told me she was concerned about something.

I shook my head.
“Nothing.”

She furrowed her brow. I knew she didn’t believe me. “I know you’re going to love the exhibit.”

I gave her my best attempt at a smile but I knew it wasn’t as genuine as I wanted. I also knew Ella could see right through my deception. 

***

It turns out all of my worry and rumination over the Cheyenne Robison exhibit was for nothing. The guy was a little older than us, maybe early 30s, and good looking, in an Aaron Donovan sort of way, but a bit more rugged and rougher around the edges. He was also apparently very happily married. He talked about his wife and daughter incessantly, not that it was a bad thing. They both seemed to be quite an artistic inspiration to him. Of course, his admission made me wonder what inspired Ella’s art. I wondered if one day I would be an inspiration for her.

The Cheyenne Robison exhibition was packed. It was early afternoon but the museum was hosting a special meet-and-greet event with the artist and it appeared that every art lover for miles showed up for the event. Cheyenne gave a short talk about his artwork and his background then introduced his wife and daug
hter, who were seated not very far from us in the audience. His wife looked a little older, may late 30s or early 40s but she was very attractive. She had a way about her that kind of reminded me of Rainy. Their daughter, who was just a toddler, was cute as a button.

After his formal presentation, Cheyenne was crowded by
fervent admirers. Ella and I waited patiently on the sidelines until the crowds diminished and headed over to the wine and cheese bar before we approached. I noticed Cheyenne’s daughter ran over and grabbed his leg and he scooped her up and held her while he was talking to the last of his fans.

When Ella and I approached, Cheyenne’s little girl reached out and tried to grab my nose.
I always considered it a rather obtrusive part of my anatomy and apparently the little girl agreed. She laughed when I made a honking noise whenever she pinched my nose.

“Lucia,” Cheyenne said in a serious daddy voice. “You can’t just grab people’s noses.”

The little girl looked up with him with sad eyes and I thought she might cry. It made my heart heavy. “It’s okay,” I said quickly. “I love kids. I don’t mind. Really.”

Cheyenne winked at me. “Lucia is such a friendly girl. We’re working on personal boundaries.”

Cheyenne’s wife hurried up next to him. “Let me take her,” she offered as she grabbed Lucia from her daddy’s hip. “Is she causing trouble?”

“The usual,” Cheyenne replied and the two parents gave each other a knowing look. They seemed to
be a very sweet couple—a sweet family. I’m not sure why but I thought about Rainy and Aaron and what their kids would be like. Maybe it was because Cheyenne and his wife reminded me of the pair, so perfectly matched and so in love. Not that Aaron and Rainy had ever talked about having children and they were still newlyweds.

When I glanced over at Ella, I expected her to be watching Cheyenne and his wife and daughter but she seemed to be watching my reactions to them instead. I’m not sure why but it made me suddenly nervous. Maybe it was because she had such a strange expression on her face and such a faraway look in her eye.

When Cheyenne put out a hand to greet Ella, it finally pulled her out of whatever kind of trance she seemed to be in. “Thank you so much for coming,” Cheyenne said pleasantly as he shook her hand.

“I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to meet you,” Ella was bubbling with excitement. “I’m an artist as well. Mostly oil paints. Some water color. I’m Ella Warner.”

Cheyenne smiled. “Well, maybe I’ll be attending your art exhibit one day, Ella Warner.”

Then Cheyenne turned to me, his hand extended. “Are you Ella’s husband?”

Why did everyone seem to think we were married? I wasn’t sure how to respond. I just said, “I’m Lucas Young. I’m not an artist.”

That made Cheyenne laugh
. “Let me guess.” He looked me up and down. “You’re in computers.”

“Close but not close enough. I’m an engineer.”

“Well, thank you both for coming. If you have any questions about any of the pieces, I’ll be here for another twenty minutes or so.”

“Do you have a gallery?” Ella asked.

Cheyenne turned to her. “As a matter of fact, I do. It’s in Sedona.” Cheyenne reached into his front pocket, pulled out a business card and handed it to Ella. “Do you collect art?”

“No,” she said. “But I might start.”

Cheyenne smiled. “We ship everywhere in the country.” Then he turned and winked at me again. He did remind me a lot of Aaron, who always seemed to be oozing charisma every time he winked. “If you’ll excuse me, I think my wife could use a hand with our pride and joy.”

And with that, he was gone.

Ella still didn’t look herself somehow. It was like someone had pulled her plug and her battery backup was slowly dying.

“Is everything okay?” I whispered as I moved closer to her.

She heaved a sigh. Then she was still for a long moment as if she was thinking about what to say. She didn’t answer my question. Instead, she grabbed my hand. “Come on, we still need to look at Cheyenne’s sculptures.”

Ella was right when she said Cheyenne knew how to capture movement with metal. His sculptures were amazing. Ella was
fixated on a piece, a small child in a flowing skirt, dancing happily. Not surprising, the girl looked a lot like little Lucia.

“Ella.” I tried to get her attention but she seemed intent on studying that particular sculpture. I carefully touched her upper arm because I didn’t want to scare her. She turned to face me and her expression seemed muted.

“What’s wrong?” I probed.

“I saw the way you were with Cheyenne’s daughter.” Her voice was so faint, I struggled to hear her.

I smiled. “She’s an adorable little girl. Very spirited.”

Ella still wasn’t right. It was obvious something was bothe
ring her. I had no idea what it could be.

When she looked up at me, her eyes looked pained. “Do you want to have children?”

The question took me by surprise. “I don’t know,” I said truthfully. “I never gave it much thought.”

“Why not?”
There seemed to be an urgency in her question.

I shrugged. I suddenly felt uncomfortable talking about such a sensitive topic in the middle of a museum. I grabbed her hand and pulled her into a quiet area in the corner away from the last of Cheyenne’s fans still viewing his work.

“To tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure I’d actually get the chance to have kids.” I heaved a sigh. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever find someone to marry me.”

Ella’s mouth popped open and she was gaping at me. “Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” I said.

She shook her head. “No.”

“Seriously?” I asked in utter disbelief.

“Seriously,” she assured me.

“Because I’m me,” I blurted

She actually laughed, which kind of pissed me off.

“Why is that funny?” With my brows now furrowed, I imagined I looked even funnier. The situation was becoming completely ridiculous.

She bit her lip to try and hold back her laughter. Then she took a few deep breaths to compose herself. “Any woman would be lucky to have you, Lucas. You’re smart, funny, gentle
, kind and patient. You’re the sweetest guy I’ve ever met. And you’re loyal and devoted. You’re the guy that every girl wants to marry.”

Now I was the one who was laughing. “No, every girl wants to marry Aaron Donovan or Cheyenne Robison. They want a good looking guy with a great body and lots of charm. I’m about as attractive as a mud fence and sometimes I think I make mud fences look good. I’m the textbook definition of a geek. I’m definitely not the guy that girls dream of being with. I think a girl would be with Steel before she’d be with me.”

I realized as soon as the last sentence came out of my mouth, it was a mistake. Ella looked like I’d slapped her. “I’d rather be with you,” she said softly.

“I know.” I tried to choke back the lump that was forming in my throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Lucas,” Ella was now looking into my eyes. “I want to be with you. But that’s the problem. You deserve a lot better than me.”

I placed a hand on her cheek. “That’s not true. You’re ever
ything I want.” I wasn’t one for public displays of affection but I felt it was important, so I placed a soft kiss on her lips. The electricity in the air and flowing between us was unmistakable.

“We need to go back to the hotel,” she said as she placed her hand on my chest and our eyes locked. She had so much need and so much desire in her eyes it nearly took my breath away. And it was me she wanted—me she desired. This beautiful woman standing before me—wanted me.

“We do need to go back to the hotel,” I agreed.

***

Our hotel room door barely had a chance to close behind us before we were undoing each other clothes. The overwhelming desire I had to be inside her was like nothing I had ever felt before—it was all-consuming, like being swept up into a tornado of wild passion.

Our kisses were light and tender one minute and deep and hungry the next. The need to have our clothes off was so
urgent, we nearly ripped them off of each other. I pulled her naked body close to mine and I could feel my rock hard erection press against her cool stomach.

“I want you so badly,” I moaned into Ella’s ear. Then I licked and nipped at her earlobe. The sound she let out almost sounded like a purr.

We made our way over to the bed, our bodies still enmeshed, and fell into the bed in a lust-filled heap. My hands made their way over every inch of Ella’s thin body. I loved the fact that she was beginning to feel like familiar territory that I was free to roam—my territory. I had never felt possessive over anything in my life, especially a person. I always prided myself on being the type of guy who would give a stranger his last dollar or even the shirt off of his back.

Ella was different. I didn’t want anyone else to have her. I wanted her to be mine, and mine alone. Ella was definitely turning me into a caveman.

I swept a few strands of hair away from her face and then ran my hand down her soft, pale cheek. She had skin like porcelain. She was so fragile yet so perfect at the same time.

“Ella, have you ever had sex without using a condom?”

Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head slowly like she was responding but simultaneously wondering why I was asking.

“Would you ever consider having sex without a condom?”