Page 13 of When It Rains He Pours

The way he said it, it hit me. There was sadness in his tone, his voice soft and flat. I understood what he was feeling, so I guided our conversation away from that place.

“Can you paint?”

“No, I can't paint for shit. But I can see the thoughts behind the detail, I can see the feelings in the image.”

Holding my drink, I swirled the liquor around and watched it form a tiny tornado. I needed to occupy myself with something else, something that wouldn't force my brain into a stand still. “So, are you from around here?”

“No, I'm here on business, and I'm hoping the opportunity works in my favor.”

“What kind of business opportunity?”

Sucking air in through thin lips, Liam leaned back against the seat and ran a hand through his hair. “It's a work in progress. I'm not even sure I want the green light anymore. But we'll see.”

Nodding my head, I took another swig of my drink, keeping my eyes inside the glass. “Well, I hope you get what you came here for. Business can be a bitch sometimes, I can tell you that.” Rolling my eyes, I rested the glass down, running my thumbs over the small droplets that had formed on the outside.

At least you have something, that's more than I have right now.

Studying me, Liam's brows furrowed, his expression penetrating my soul. Those eyes, those eyes could do so many things to me.

The way they drew me in, the way they were so deep, so strong, and yet, I couldn't read him. He was wearing a mask, his inner thoughts hidden from view, while he read me like a fucking book.

“You've had some other business trouble. What was it?” Rolling his shoulders forward, he flicked his gaze between mine, trying to see what was in my head.

Scrunching my lips, I felt the alcohol heating my core and warming my skin. “You know it took me years to get my gallery and build it into what it was. I put everything into it; blood, sweat, tears. . . Literally everything.” Laughing to myself, I curled the tips of my fingers over the rim of my glass. “And then one day, someone wants to rip it out from underneath you. I refused to let that happen, but now, with this shit—I'm not sure what to do.”

His lids lowered, trying to figure out how much of what I was saying revolved around the break in, and how much was another experience all together. But he didn't ask me to explain.

And I wasn't about to spew my guts all over the table. It wasn't his problem, none of this fell on him. These were my problems, my burdens to carry.

I didn't stop at one drink. There was another, then another. And I was feeling really good. Maybe a little too good.

I lost a little self control, allowing myself to flirt with Liam. And I was liking it, the moment of freedom before reality slapped my face in the morning; it was nice.

Everything that had happened melted away. I didn't feel the anger or despair from walking into a shit storm, I didn't feel the sadness over losing everything I had created. Any fear of the man was gone, pushed further and further into the back of my mind as the drinks went down like water.

All I felt was Liam and the kindness of drunken inhibition.

His smile, his eyes, his voice. . . it all worked. I was happy for the moment, forgetting there was even a first half to this day.

“Did you grow up here?” he asked, palming his drink and taking a long sip. His eyes skirted around the glass, watching me intently.

“Yes and no. I lived in Rhode Island until I was fourteen, then my family moved here.” Tapping my thumbs against my drink, my lids hooded as I spoke. “I don't really miss it, but I do miss coffee milk and hot wieners. Shit, I'd kill to have either one of those right now.”

“Coffee milk? Sounds gross.” Scrunching up his face, he stuck out his tongue in disgust.

“It's not, it's delicious.” Smiling, I bit down on my bottom lip. “Maybe you'll get lucky and one day and I'll share some with you.”

“I'm not a man who believes in luck.”

Veering my stare, I tipped my chin up. “Really? You don't think someone can be lucky?”

“I think people make choices,” he said, running his thumb over the thin rim of his glass. His gaze settled on my face, his eyes following the outline of my lips. “Choices that can change everything.”

My heart started to race as I sat still, his glare holding me in place. Drawing in air through my nose, I lifted a hand to my mouth, plucking at my lips. “Change them how?”

“However it plays out. Luck isn't about good or bad, it's about where it takes you and what you do with it when you get there.” His eyes turned wicked, searing my skin with invisible flames. “So, what are you going to do with it?”

Sucking in a gulp of air, my lips sealed shut as I shook my head. “I—I don't know.” Opening my lids wider, my lashes tickled the bottom of my brows. “I never thought about it like that before.”

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