Page 53 of Brazen Deceits

We didn’t get matching iridescent outfits, but we’re not far off. Walker’s decked out in an orange dress shirt, paired with tight black jeans, army boots, and a purple wool trench coat. He looks like Halloween vomited him up, but in a cool way.

My getup is equally preposterous. I’m wearing a full-length sleeveless lime-green dress, three belts on my waist, and all the costume jewelry we could find, including a crown. Under the dress, I have a long-sleeved black and white chevron blouse, as well as my own thrifted army boots. My hair is in a braided crown that took me the forty minutes we sat, unmoving, on I-90 to get right.

I pull my backpack over my shoulder and grip tight to my bag of thrifted costumes as I wait in the parking garage for Walker to get his things from the back of his SUV. “Guess what,” I say.

“What?” he asks, his eyes bright with anticipation.

“You match your car.”

He looks down at his shirt, then over at his car. “Orange has always been my color.”

I giggle, and he ducks in, planting a soft kiss on my lips. “Ready to be my muse?” he whispers.

I grab a handful of his shirt, pulling him flush with me. “Only if you promise to hold me back if I get too crazy. Clara off the rails? Even pretending? I have no idea where this is heading.”

He rests his forehead against mine, so close after so long separate, and I want to weep with relief. “I’ll keep you safe, always.”

I tilt my head up to meet his eyes. “When do we start?”

“How about now?”

Grinning, I slap his ass before sprinting to the elevator, giggling the whole way.

“Really?” he hollers, but I can hear his boots dashing after me as I punch the Up button. The door slides open, and I duck in, hitting the button for the ground floor, pounding the Door Close button. Slowly, too slowly, the doors inch shut.

“Please, please, please,” I whisper, watching Walker reach out, his fingers almost in the door as it shudders shut. I burst out laughing, breaking out a happy dance as the elevator brings me to the lobby above.

I rush out of the elevator, still giggling, and into a gorgeous lobby. Plush velvets in jewel tones fight with bold black and white walls. My lime-green outfit almost matches, but it’s obvious thrifted-ness guarantees I do not belong in this lobby.

My anxiety sparks. Only this weekend, I’m not Clara. I’m the muse.

Would the muse let a fancy lobby knock her off her game? Of course not.

That thought in my head, I smile and nod at the desk clerk, perching on one of the big velvet chairs facing the elevator, crossing one leg over the other, casual as can be. The muse belongs wherever she deigns to land.

The elevator dings, and Walker stumbles out, shaking his head at me. “Princess, that was very mean,” he says, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“You loved it.”

His laugh fills the small, plush space. He pulls me to my feet, yanking me to him, his lips meeting mine in a kiss that belongs behind closed doors. Instead of freaking out, I melt into him, letting the kiss become my full reality, trusting the tiny voice that I usually ignore to lead me. I want to kiss him. Why the hell shouldn’t I?

He pulls back sooner than I want, but longer than I normally would have allowed, both of us breathless. His dark eyes tell me he’s missed this as much as I have, even if this distance is his fault. Trusting that little voice, I pop up on my tippy toes and nip his bottom lip. He shivers, and I grin. “Are we going to check in?” I ask.

He clears his throat. “Yes.”

Neither of us moves, this moment too full of all the things we haven’t said to each other, neither of us wanting to let the other walk away, to fall back instead of forward into each other.

“I can help you over here,” the lady at the counter announces, breaking the spell. I wink at Walker before bending down and snagging my bags from the floor. He does the same, and we both head to the desk.

“Walker Lee. I have a reservation.”

Walker shifts his stance, projecting power and money. It takes a minute to place it, but he’s channeling Trips’ arrogance. I snort, and Walker catches my eye, winking.

“Yes, Mr. Lee, I have you booked through Monday.”

“Monday?” I ask.

He wraps his arm around my waist, dragging me close. “Then we don’t have to worry about leaving before we’re good and ready, princess.”

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