Page 84 of Until You're Mine
In spite of the crappy odds and how hard it might be, I had to believe that Shane and I could find a way to have a relationship.
Maybe I—make thatwe—were the exception. I certainly owed it to myself to find out.
I’m going to drive down there, push through my fears, and lay it all on the line. I’ll tell Shane I believe in him, and that I’m in love with him, and then…I don’t know. Then we’ll figure something out.
“…telling you, you’ve got to see her stuff. It’s fantastic.” Dad led a group of three over, and I straightened and gave my most welcoming smile. In another amazing turn of events, he’d stayed. I thought he’d take a quick look and then beat a trail out of here, either to somewhere less “hoity-toity,” or to try to make the headlining fight down in San Jose. Cyclone Jones had been an up-and-comer around the time Dad retired, and I knew he’d been excited about watching the match. But instead of leaving, he kept on recruiting people to check out my art. “Look at that. Have you ever seen anything like it?”
They shook their heads. I’m sure it had something to do with being too scared to contradict a man the size of Dad, but flattering all the same, and the way he talked about my work sent happiness pinging through me. Under usual circumstances I’d be embarrassed by his bragging and fawning over my paintings, but our family had never been usual, and I loved that about them. Even if it took me a little too long to realize it.
All three of the patrons left with one of my business cards—i.e., Dad told them to take one and they complied. As soon as they were gone, Dad gestured me closer. “I’ve now seen every piece in the place at least two or three times, and your stuff is the best here by far.”
“It’s not a competition, Dad.”
He shrugged. “All’s I’m saying is that if it were, you’d win. No contest.”
“I don’t know. There’s always that one judge who sees things differently.”
“I hate that judge,” Dad grumbled, and I laughed. Then I tried to check the clock to see if it’d picked up its pace already, but some tall guy was blocking my view.
He turned, and of course it was Chris, and now he thought I’d been staring at him. He’d stayed on the outskirts since Dad arrived, but every time I’d walked past him he’d stopped me to chat for a minute or two.
He closed the distance between us, and I figured I might as well break it to him now that I was already taken.
“Look, I think you’re a nice guy and all…”But I like my guys hard.
Suddenly the buzz of conversations came to a screeching halt, the silence loud after the constant chatter that’d filled the air.
“Do they have security here? Someone should probably call the cops, just in case.” Chris grabbed my arm to pull me closer, and I glanced behind me, wondering what big threat had everyone so freaked out.
Shane.
His forehead was swollen, a butterfly bandage did its best to keep the split there closed, and that eye was halfway shut and purple and blue. Red scuffs marred his cheek. He’d dressed up, his gray button-down shirt and tie giving him an oddly refined look for someone so beat to hell. My brothers loomed behind him like two bodyguards for a guy who obviously didn’t need one. Then again, it also sorta looked like they’d failed to protect him. But I knew better.
I took a step in their direction, but Chris still had hold of my arm. Since I didn’t want to freak him out any more than he already was, I resisted saying that someone would probably need to call the cops if he manhandled me again.
“Excuse me,” I said, tugging out of his grip, and then I was walking toward Shane and he was walking toward me, and I sprinted the last few steps, heels and slick flooring be damned.
A laugh burst free as he pulled me into his arms, every possible happy emotion crashing into each other at once. I fought the urge to wrap my legs around his waist—after all, I was in a skirt and we were making enough of a spectacle already. “I knew you’d win. I didn’t know that you’d send my dad here, though, and thank you for that. I was planning on driving down to San Jose to see you, but now you’re here and”—I crashed my lips over his, deciding to show him rather than tell him, and he groaned even as his fingers dug into my waist and anchored me to him. I pulled back and gently brushed the skin next to the cut on his lower lip. “Sorry.”
“Never apologize for kissing me, bruiser. I say bring on the pleasure and pain.” He slanted his mouth over mine, tilting his head at a different angle than usual so I didn’t accidentally open the cut on his eyebrow with my enthusiastic kissing.
I ran my hand down his arm and laced my fingers with his, loving the way he automatically tightened the hold, as if he never planned on letting go. The entire room still had eyes on us, so I figured I should introduce them, even though no one else had made introductions on this grand of scale. “This is my family, and my, uh…”
“Hers,” Shane said, curling me closer, and my heart practically fluttered right out of my chest. “I’m hers. I’m also a professional MMA fighter and I had a bout earlier tonight.”
A few people nodded like they understood. Plenty remained on the hesitant and worried side, and I swore I even heard a few gasps. Some of the women were literally clutching their pearls, which made me force back a giggle.
“If you think this is bad,” Shane said, his deep, gruff voice echoing through the room, “you should see the other guy.”
Crickets greeted his joke, and my attempt to hold back my laughter resulted in a snort.
Shane pressed a kiss to my temple. “Don’t worry, we’re just here to check out the art.” He looked to me, so I took the cue and started over to my wall. Behind us, I could hear my dad talking up my paintings to my brothers, and for the second time that night, I almost burst into tears.
One escaped and slipped down my cheek, so scratch the “almost.” It was like 75 percent a happy tear and 25 percent scared that we’d have one unbelievable night celebrating Shane’s win and my first showing, and then the real world would creep in and shove our faces in how much work we were in for. Good thing I’d decided to take hold of my own destiny and kick the odds’ ass, and I really hoped the guy at my side would be on board.
Surely he wouldn’t come all this way if he wasn’t, right?
We stopped in front of my display wall, and I held my breath, waiting for him to say something about the painting that was unmistakably him.
