Page 3 of Stealing Daddy's Heart

Garrett follows my gaze to the Rothko hanging on the mantle. “Are you into art?”

“It's what I’m studying at university. I’ve always loved how paintings can speak to you without words. Like that one.” I gesture to the abstract shapes. “At first glance, it’s just blocks of color. But if you stare long enough, you start to feel something deeper underneath.”

I pause, suddenly embarrassed, realizing I’ve slipped into lecture mode. “Sorry, I know it sounds a little intense.”

Garrett shifts slightly, glancing from me to the painting again. “No,” he says, shaking his head. “Not intense. Art has a way of speaking in whispers, doesn’t it?”

He's still studying the canvas, but his words are layered, holding more. My pulse picks up, the tension returning, feeling different this time.

“Exactly,” I say, pulling my attention away from him, focusing on the painting instead, to steady myself. “There's always more under the surface—if you're willing to look.”

He meets my gaze, his expression thoughtful, and for a moment, I wonder if I’ve pushed too far. But then he leans forward, bridging the distance, enough that I can feel the heat of his body.

“Maybe it’s about boundaries. About knowing when to step closer and when to step back.”

The words settle over me like a challenge, and I can't help the way my breath catches. Boundaries. It's a concept I'm all too familiar with, but one I've never been good at respecting.

“And what happens,” I ask quietly, “if someone decides to cross those boundaries?”

His gaze sharpens, the intensity of it stealing the breath from my lungs. “Then they'd better be prepared for the consequences.”

Are we still talking about the painting? The air between us crackles with tension, thick and heavy.

For a moment, the world stops. I can see the pulse at his throat quicken, hear the faint crackle of the fire, smell the wood smoke mingling with his cologne—earthy, masculine, intoxicating.

His eyes darken, the ocean-blue depths pulling me in, promising something I've never dared to reach for before.

“Skylar—” His voice is a low, gravelly warning, but there's an edge to it.

Before he can say another word, the door to the library swings open with a sharp creak. The spell breaks, reality rushing back in like a cold wave.

I look up to see Vanessa standing in the doorway, her perfectly manicured hand resting on the knob.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Skylar. The guests are asking about you.” Her eyes flick to Garrett, and her smile tightens. “I didn’t realize you were keeping Skylar company.”

Garrett is on his feet in an instant. “Just catching up,” he says smoothly, his voice devoid of the simmering tension that had filled the room just moments ago.

“I see,” Vanessa replies, though her tone suggests she’s already making assumptions. “We really must get back to the party,” sheadds, turning her gaze to me. “Your father wants to introduce you to Senator Whitman’s son.”

I can't help the sigh that escapes my lips. The thrill of the moment with Garrett lingers, a heady buzz under my skin, but I know it's over—for now.

“Of course,” I say, forcing a smile as I stand. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” I turn to Garrett and add, “Thanks for the chat.”

“Good luck, if I don't see you again,” Garrett says, his voice smooth, controlled.

But I don’t miss the way his gaze lingers just a moment too long, the way his jaw tightens ever so slightly.

“Thank you,” I reply, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. It feels wrong to be so formal, so distant, after what just happened—after what almost happened.

I follow Vanessa out of the library, casting one last glance over my shoulder at Garrett. He simply watches me leave, his expression unreadable.

Vanessa, oblivious to the turmoil roiling inside me, loops her arm through mine as we re-enter the party.

As I move through the crowd, nodding and smiling at faces I barely recognize, my mind races. I should let it go. He's my father's best friend, for God's sake. There are a million reasons why crushing on him is a bad idea.

But the heart wants what it wants, and right now, mine is screaming for more. So I make a silent vow. This isn't over. Not by a long shot. And when I return, I'll be ready to cross all those boundaries he talked about.

And Garrett Hayes won't know what hit him.

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