Page 94 of All Tied Down

“I could use a drink,” Emerson says with a deep exhale, a fake smile stretching across her face.

“Is that a good idea?” I ask, placing my hand on the small of her back.

“I think it’s a worse idea if we don’t.”

“Emerson—”

“Garrett, do you know what the name of this lipstick is?” The question has my eyes dropping to her lips painted in the sexiest red shade. They curve up on one side, and I force my gaze to drag back up to meet hers.

“What’s that?”

“I Dare You.”

“Is it really?”

“No, but it should be,” she says with an air of confidence I can only aspire to replicate. “No one gets to ruin our night simply by existing.”

Chuckling, I lead her toward the bar because honestly, how can I argue with that?

37

EMERSON

The Painted Muse is gorgeous, cream and gold dominating the space from the floor to the walls to the accents. It’s luxurious while still being understated, the art the showcase as we meander through the displays.

In the short time we’ve been here, I’ve acquired two paintings and a few pieces of pottery, ignoring that nagging question about where it’ll all live after tonight.

Garrett’s place?

My apartment?

The questions come to a screeching halt in my mind as Garrett and I wind our way through the auction items.

“What?” he asks as I stare at the stunning painting before me. I know without looking that it’s a VinCo original. Reds and pinks and grays move across the canvas like a well-timed dance. The blending of colors gives the piece movement and emotion in a way that steals your breath.

It’s enchanting and also curious.

“This painting is done by an extremely elusive artist. For a long time their work would show up sporadically—never in the same location. But this is the second painting that’s been auctioned off in the last year.”

“In Chicago?”

“No, I think the last was in Savannah. They don’t take commissions. At least they haven’t in years.”

“How do you know?”

“VinCo is incredibly sought after in certain circles.”

“Are you saying the matching highland cow prints that Colt, Roan, and I each have in our bathrooms aren’t sought after in certain circles?”

“You all have the cow picture?” I ask, amused as I sip my champagne.

“First of all, it’s a highland cow.”

“Because that makes a difference.”

“It does. Roan and Colt fought about it and that ended in a broken coffee table and stitches in Roan’s forearm, so I ordered each of us one while we were still drunk in the ER.”

I gape at him because I have so many questions, and he grins because he knows it’s a hell of a story.