Page 65 of Made for Reign

I don’t turn around immediately. Instead, I add one last stroke of gold to the mountain peak. “Yep, just finishing this.”

His arms slide around my waist from behind, pulling me back against his chest. He’s already dressed in jeans and aflannel shirt, ready to drive me back to the resort. I can feel the solid warmth of him, smell the familiar scent of cedar and coffee that clings to his skin.

“Let me see.” He turns me in his arms, both of us looking at the canvas.

The painting is good, better than anything I’ve done in years. The mountains seem to glow with their own inner light, and there’s something wild and free about the brushstrokes that mirrors how I feel when I’m here with him.

“It’s beautiful.” He presses a kiss to my temple. Then he reaches over and picks up a flyer from the small stack of papers on the worktable. “What’s this?”

I glance at what he’s holding, and my stomach drops. It’s the competition announcement I printed out weeks ago and forgot about. “Oh, that’s nothing. Just something I saw online.”

“San Diego Contemporary Art Competition, huh?” He studies the flyer more carefully, his eyes scanning the details. “And first place gets a solo exhibition and ten thousand dollars.” His gaze shifts to me. “This looks like something.”

Heat creeps up my neck. “I was just... I thought maybe I could enter some of the paintings from this weekend. But it’s probably stupid.”

“Stupid?” His eyebrows raise. “Baby, your work is incredible. Why wouldn’t you enter?”

I shrug, suddenly feeling exposed in a way that has nothing to do with being naked. “I’ve never actually won anything before. And the competition is pretty prestigious. Real artists enter that kind of thing.”

“You are a real artist.” His voice is firm, brooking no argument. “Look at what you’ve created this weekend. Look at this painting right here. It’s fucking magnificent.”

“Reign—”

“No, listen to me.” He sets the flyer down and cups my face in his hands. “I’ve seen the way you come alive when you paint. The way your whole face changes when you’re creating something. That’s not a hobby, Audrey. That’s who you are.”

My throat tightens with emotion. “But what if I’m not good enough? What if I embarrass myself?”

“Then you try again. And again. Until you are good enough.” His thumbs stroke across my cheekbones. “But I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. I think you’re going to blow them away.”

“Yeah, well, the deadline is tomorrow.” I sigh, already feeling the familiar weight of missed opportunities settling over me. “It’s probably too late. Maybe next time.”

Reign gives me a long look, those piercing blue eyes studying my face. “Are you sure?”

I nod, even though something inside me rebels against the easy surrender. “Yes. I’ll enter the next one.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t push, but I catch something flickering across his expression before he nods. “Then we should get ready to leave.”

As we start gathering my things, a strange melancholy settles over me. I fold my clothes slowly, trying to delay the inevitable return to my real life. Every item I pack feels like I’m putting away pieces of myself, tucking the woman I am here back into hiding.

Reign watches me from the doorway, and I can feel his eyes tracking my movements. “What’s wrong?”

I pause with a nightgown half-folded in my hands. The question opens something raw inside me, and before I can stop myself, the words tumble out.

“I never want this to end.” My voice cracks slightly. “This weekend, this feeling, being here with you. I know I have to goback, but God, Reign, I don’t want to. I want to stay in this bubble forever where I can paint and be myself?—”

He steps to me gently, pulling me into his arms before I can finish the thought. His hand slides into my hair, tilting my face up to meet his gaze.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Look at me, baby.”

I do, even though my eyes are burning with unshed tears.

“This isn’t ending. What we have, what you’ve found here, this is just the beginning.” His voice carries that familiar certainty that makes me want to believe impossible things. “You think I built you a studio just for one weekend?”

“What do you mean, soon?” I ask him.

“Just what I said. I have a plan, Audrey.”

“What kind of plan?”

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