The caterer had a small rolling bar cart angled in another corner with bottles of red and white wine. Champagne was chilling in the fridge as well.
As I did the walkthrough, I realized I hadn’t checked the bathroom. I hurried back there to make sure that the trash can had a fresh bag and there was plenty of toilet paper, hand soap, and paper towels.
When I came out five minutes later, I ran face-first into a hard chest. I had to accept that this was my life now. It seemed I would forever be running into a certain hot artist, usually where I least expected it. It was my fate.
“Oof.”
Callused hands grabbed my arms, keeping me from crashing into the wall, and I realized I no longer cared that Elijah had turned me into a permanent klutz. Not if it meant he was constantly touching me. I didn’t even care that he hadn’t called my name when he followed me back here. We’d agreed it was the only way to keep him from accidentally startling me. Yet, somehow, he rarely bothered.
“Sorry, Brown Eyes. I forgot to call out to you.” His smirk told me that was a lie. The sneaky man enjoyed surprising me and having to put his hands all over me to keep me from falling down.
“What are you doing back here?” I asked.
“Looking for you.” He pulled me closer and kissed me.
“Why? Is something wrong?” I could feel my blood pressure rising.
“Nope. Everything is great. The gallery looks fantastic. You did an amazing job organizing the show.”
I relaxed against him. “Oh, good. Then, what’s up?”
“I have a little present for you.”
“Now?”
“Well, I was hoping you’d use it tonight.”
“Tonight?” I asked, completely confused. What on earth could it be?
“Close your eyes,” he said.
I didn’t bother to resist. He was stubborn. He would stand here until it was time for the event to start, and even after it began, if he had to. I closed my eyes.
“Hold out your hand palm up.”
Again, I followed his instructions. A moment later, something small and metal was placed in my palm.
“Open your eyes.”
I blinked rapidly and looked at my hand. In my palm was a key. “What’s this?”
“A key to my house.”
“Uh, a key to your house?”
He grinned down at me. “I want you to spend the weekend with me. And at least a couple of nights a week. I thought it would be easier if you had your own key.”
“You’re giving me a key to your house?”
Elijah nodded, his expression amused. “Yes. You don’t have to keep asking.”
“Yes, I do, because I’m not sure how to handle it.”
“Why do you need to handle it?”
“This is the first time a man has given me his house key, and I’m not sure what the protocol is. Do I say thanks and go put it on my key ring? Do I jump up and down and squeal like a tween girl? I need some guidance here.”
He chuckled. “I’d settle for a smile and a kiss. And you in my bed tonight.”
