I let mischief dance in my voice. “We’ll figure out a payment plan. For now, have a taste.”
I watched as she twirled her fork, tasted the pasta, and closed her eyes in delight. That expression—utterly genuine and unguarded—was better than any praise.
When she compared it to what she’d tasted in Italian restaurants, I felt a surge of boyish pride.
“There’s always a way to improve a recipe,” I said. “If it weren’t such an exhausting job, I’d be a chef. Guess I’m too lazy.”
She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, right. You’re just trying to save the planet—that’s how lazy you are.”
I shrugged, but her words warmed me. “I’m not nearly the hero you seem to think I am. But I’m happy to feed you. Did you get any work done?”
She told me about her sketches, her eyes lighting up with every detail. I felt genuinely excited, but guilt pricked at me, sharp and sudden. If she knew I’d nudged Malcom to look at her portfolio… hell, if she knew I even knew Malcom, would she still smile at me like this? I’d only meant to do her a tiny anonymous favor, but it had snowballed into a secret that made me feel like a worm. I kept waiting for the right moment to tell her—if such a moment even existed. But the more time passed, the harder it was to come out and mention it.
“Can I see what you’ve drawn?” I asked, forcing my voice to stay light.
“Sure. I think I can knock off another one tonight. With any luck, I might actually get some sleep before I start my other job. Oh, I forgot to tell you, I hired someone to manage the store for a while.”
She told me about Lucy and I raised my wine glass in salute. “That’s excellent. I’ll keep you fed.”
She shook her head firmly. “Don’t be silly. You’re not my butler. I couldn’t take advantage of you.”
I winked. “Don’tyoube silly. I told you we’ll work out a payment plan.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What? I trade you sex for food?”
“I can think of a worse bargain.”
The truth was, I’d cook for her every day just to see that satisfied smile on her face. But I wasn’t about to tell her that.
After dinner, when she showed me her work, my breath caught. The sketch of Sue was incredible, but her urban landscapes—they captured something essential about the city, about life itself.
“I need more walls,” I said, gazing at her paintings. “I might get lynched at the exhibit because I plan to buy a lot of stuff.”
“You don’t have to do that, Sebastian.” Her face was serious. “I mean, you need to set aside what we... Whatever it is between us. Cooking me dinner tonight is one thing, but you don’t have to buy my stuff just because—”
Her doubt hit me like a slap. My eyes locked with hers. “Don’t finish that thought. I’m not buying your art because we’re in a relationship. I want to buy it because I love it, and I think you’re incredibly talented.”
I watched her face change, saw the exact moment she processed what I’d said.
She swallowed audibly. “Did you say relationship?”
I crossed my arms, defiantly. “Do you want to use another word for it?”
She hesitated, and my heart hammered against my ribs until she shook her head.
“No.” She bit her lower lip. “I mean, I don’t know. I guess that’s accurate.”
Relief flooded through me. “You’re damn straight it is.”
I pulled her toward me, claiming her mouth with mine and cupping her ass with firm palms. The way she responded to my touch, the little gasp she made when she felt my erection—this was real. This was ours.
“Do you think you can take a break from work?” I whispered against her ear.
“I could be persuaded. But it has to be a short one.”
My tongue traced her ear lobe, and I smiled against her neck. “Then I hope this floor is comfortable, because I’m not wasting time getting you in bed.”
Chapter Seventeen
