“Definitely a British cow,” I said, observing the grey skies looming around the animal.
The brushstrokes were creative, giving the creature a rough, textured presence.
Stella giggled.
The giddy sound pulled a broad smile from me.
“This is a weird coincidence,” she murmured as we moved to the next painting.
“Or fate,” I said lightly.
She hummed softly as she stared at the painting while I stared at her.
The faint scent of her perfume lingered between us.
Elie Saab.
I would never smell it again without thinking of her.
The bottle I purchased didn’t smell the same.
But I had to make do with it lingering on my pillow until Stella was ready.
She began commenting on the modern canvas before us—a vase with fluorescent flowers sprouting wildly from it.
I preferred the black-and-white cow.
This version of Stella was nothing like the young woman I had first met. She was happy, vibrant, and her eyes were alive.
I nodded absently and followed her to the next painting.
Chapter 9
Stella
The fire was lit, and I was playing with it.
Maddox placed the tray on the table. It was laden with coffee, grilled sandwiches, and dessert—stimulants I usually stayed away from. Coffee and sugar.
I helped him unload the tray, watching as he set it onto the stand before turning back to gather napkins and other condiments.
His dark navy jeans fit perfectly around his ass. I thought he couldn’t look better in tailored trousers, but I was wrong. His tan boots paired with the jeans gave him a casual edge that made him look even more dangerous.
He slipped his jacket off and hung it over the back of his chair.
His cologne reached me first.
Then the sight of his arms made me swallow.
The T-shirt stretched across his upper arms, the thick veins running down the muscle drawing my attention straight to his hands.
Big.
Strong.
Capable.
I tried to stop the thoughts they were beginning to elicit, so I looked away. Unfortunately, the shape of his pecs beneath the fabric was just as impressive.
