Page 49 of Taking A Chance

Her reaction makes me laugh, not like I’m laughing at her but because I find her so fucking cute.

“I’m sure there will be, love,” I say, trying to put her stomach at ease.

As if on cue, waiters begin to deposit baskets of freshly baked bread onto the tables and I can’t help but peek over at her to see her reaction, which is nothing short of a child being handed a Christmas present.

“Ohhhh, and they have the fancy butter, too,” she delights.

The evening goes on in complete bliss. After we finish eating, I take her around the exhibits, showing her mine last. Several of the pieces will be on permanent display while others will be for sale. Then, we dance. I hold her close, my fingers gliding over the skin of her exposed back with a certain amount of desire bubbling in my chest. I’ll be good here. Though, I can’t say what’ll happen in that tinted rental. There’s a visor between us and the driver, so all bets are off.

At the end of the evening, we collect her coat but can’t escape another run-in with Ryan and his tagalong.

“Don’t forget. I’ll call you tomorrow,” Ryan says as Natasha drags him away, and he gives me the universal call symbol, his thumb at his ear and index finger stretched to his mouth.

I nod, helping Cora into her coat. Ryan can be so exhausting.

“What a night,” Cora declares.

“Did you have fun?” I ask, stepping in front of her to open the car door.

She slides in before me. Once we’re in the warmth of the car, she takes my hand. “I did,” she says. “Thank you.”

I say, “So, about—” just as she says, “Are you—”

Then, she stops. “Oh, sorry. You go.”

“No, you first.”

Cora takes a deep breath. “Are you going to paint her?”

I sigh, knowing she’d probably end up asking this at some point. “I really hope I don’t have to.”

“Isn’t it your decision?” she asks.

“More or less,” I say, running my hands through my hair. “But I also agreed with Ryan a long time ago that his role in my life means he gets a certain amount of say so in projects, in terms of good business decisions, anyway.” A conversation I’m now regretting.

“Oh,” she says simply.

“You don’t want me to, do you?” I ask.

“Oh, what? No. I mean, no. But, well, I just…I was just asking,” she breathes out. I’m not even sure it was a whole sentence, or at least one that made sense.

I chuckle. “All right, then.”

“Don’t laugh at me,” she jokes, laughing herself. “If I’m being perfectly honest, I don’t like her.”

“Yeah, I don’t either,” I admit.

Silence fills the car for a moment, our hands still tangled together. It’s not an awkward silence but a comfortable one.

“So,” she says, breaking the quiet. “About this whole boyfriend thing…”

She trails off, presumably so I can pick up the topic and run with it. Or maybe so I can explain myself.

Fuck.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck, slightly embarrassed about my behavior. “I don’t know why I did that.”

“Were you jealous of Dr. Richards?” she asks, a playful smile plastered across her face.

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