Epilogue

Months later…

Mild weather and clear skies made the day perfect for Clover and Van Gogh’s move to their new place, a modest rental home Lauren and Dante owned as an investment.

The second bedroom proved ideal for Van Gogh’s studio if Clover could only convince him to use it. “I want you to have this.”

“I prefer to share the space with you.”

Her stuff was already inside over her objections. “But you could make this your man cave and paint on the walls like Neanderthals did in their places.”

“Don’t think that’s in our lease. You can ask Dante if you want.”

He, Tor, and her dad grilled burgers and steaks in the backyard. Earlier, they’d hauled furniture and boxed belongings inside. Her mom, Lauren, and Jasmina helped clean and currently took over the kitchen to whip up sides for the meal.

Thankfully, her mom didn’t mention the talk they’d had about Van Gogh, nor did she give him the evil eye. With him back to the man he’d always been, she treated him like family already.

As far as Van Gogh was concerned, he hadn’t hidden his surprise or delight that her folks had arrived dressed. What a worrywart. Her parents knew how to look and behave like ordinary people in the outside world. When they were on their own turf, though…

She circled her table and equipment and shook her head.

Van Gogh fiddled with his painter toolbox, pretending not to notice her mood.

“I don’t like how this is set up.” She gestured to her stuff.

“There’s no other way for me to arrange it. You get the left or the right side. We’ve tried both.”

“My things are still taking up too much room. Way more than yours. My stuff should go in the garage. I can work there.”

“Where will we put the car?”

They’d bought a clunker he and Tor had fixed up so Van Gogh could drive to the parlor.

She pointed behind her. “How about we park it on the street, like our neighbors do with their vehicles? It’s the only solution. There’s no space in here now for your earlier paintings unless we hang them, too. We should.”

“Hold on.” He grabbed her wrist before she could leave. “My oils are already on every wall in each room, even the bath. This is the only place you haven’t hung them.”

“That’s my point. We’ll put the rest here on every available spot.” She lifted her face to the ceiling. “If we have any paintings left over, they can go up there.” She pointed.

“Storage sounds better. Dante and Lauren own one of those places, too. I’ll make arrangements with them tomorrow.”

Jasmina shouted, “Hey, guys!” She dashed down the hall and stopped in the doorway. “Noah and Kyle are in route. Marnie, too. They’re expecting to see your vid.”

Clover crossed her arms. “Cover charge is five bucks apiece. Do they have it?”

Van Gogh laughed. “It’s not that good.”

“Says you.” She bumped her hip against his. What he’d done was beyond awesome. Since the convention, he’d proved repeatedly that she mattered. “Your work makes Avatar look lame in comparison.”

“Thanks. But what I did is more like Story of O.”

Jasmina brightened. “Yeah?”

“He’s kidding.” Clover swatted his ass. “Everyone pays ten bucks or they don’t get to see it.”

“Noah and Kyle will be armed.” Jasmina smiled smugly. “They get in and watch for free.”

The doorbell rang.

“That’s probably them.” She bolted down the hall.

Lauren called out, “The guys and Marnie are here.”

After the new arrivals enjoyed a short tour of the house, garage, and grounds, everyone gathered in the living room around Van Gogh’s laptop, plates and drinks in hand. Molly enjoyed her bottle in the playpen.

Clover took in the adult crowd. “Everyone able to see?”

Her dad sat on the floor in front of her mom. She braided his waist-length hair. They both nodded.

The others did, too.

Clover massaged Van Gogh’s shoulders. If they got any tenser, he’d need muscle relaxers. She kissed his cheek. “Bite the bullet and turn it on.”

“It’s still not perfect. I could have done much more.”

“You will with the others we do.”

Tor choked on his beer and coughed. “He barely lived through this one.”

Lauren pointed her bottled water at the screen. Pregnant, she couldn’t drink. “That opening photo is great.”

He’d used the banner shot from the convention and splashed the words Clover Cuffs across the model’s thighs.

“I should have used a different color for the text.” He squinted. “It’s too hard to read.”

“Is not. Turn it on. I’ll help.” Clover pushed his finger over the mouse. The cursor shot wildly across the screen.

Noah and Kyle clapped, both men gorgeous, Kyle blond, Noah dark-haired. Seated between them, Jasmina slapped their thighs. They kissed her cheeks and behaved.

Van Gogh eased Clover’s hand from his. “I have it. Here goes.”

Haunting yet powerful strains sounded. Luke’s composition. Clover had persuaded him and the band to contribute.

The opening shot faded, replaced by the room she’d envisioned. Photographed at Tor and Marnie’s house, Van Gogh had Photoshopped their white walls to black and added his most intense paintings later, along with his easel to the side and her cuffs on a small table, everything digitally produced and enhanced.

The music swelled then drifted away, replaced by Van Gogh’s on-screen narration. “Want to create the perfect fantasy?” His deep voice rasped with lust. “Want to make your lady yours?”

Luke’s band went into complete metal mode, the tune and their singing super rough.

Van Gogh strode into the scene, hooded as Clover had suggested. His tats on full display as she’d hoped. Except for his black jeans, he was naked.

No guy would ever be hotter. She whistled through her teeth. “You are freaking gorgeous.”

The men laughed. The women smiled.

He groaned.

“Oh, hey, here’s where I come in.” Clover pointed.

She paraded into view and faced the camera, clad in her vintage bustier, spike heels, and black short-shorts that Van Gogh had begged her to don. Too bad she’d acquiesced to his pleas. “My legs are too skinny, aren’t they?”

Lauren sniffed. “Mine should look that good.”

Dante hugged her. “Nothing wrong with you.”

The song receded.

Van Gogh spoke on screen. “Clover Cuffs. For adults only…and those who dare to pursue pleasure.”

In the shot, he grabbed her mancuffs. Dutifully, Clover held out her wrists. He slapped those babies on. The camera zoomed in for a close-up. Metal glinted.

Luke’s drummer pounded away.

Van Gogh lifted her arms and secured them to a post. He circled her ominously.

Face lowered, she played the meek sub.

“Use Clover Cuffs to confine and display your woman.” His baritone rumbled in her belly, same as the bass. “Four designs for your enjoyment and personal fantasies.”

Luke shouted his lyrics. His band played wildly.

Shots flashed on the screen showing the cuffs she wore, then her modeling the dragon and snake ones in various poses. On her knees, hands on Van Gogh’s rock-hard belly. Her wrists secured to the wall, him regarding her, arms crossed, biceps bulging. Van Gogh to her side, holding a chain attached to a leather collar that hugged her throat.

“Clover Cuffs. Your newest toy. Your intimate dream come true.”

The image burst apart, replaced by her brand name, email address, and phone number.

Applause and wolf whistles broke out from the audience, Jasmina’s the loudest.

“No, no, no. It’s not over.” Clover bounced on her butt. “Wait till you see this. It’s the best part. Shh.”

Soft, seductive music played. Her image materialized on the screen. With her back to the camera, she looked over her shoulder, her mouth pursed and pouty. “Tired of the same old routine?” She’d spoken breathily. “Let Clover Cuffs make you a star.”

The harsh lights flicked off. A black one snapped on.

Her white ink tat glowed between her shoulders, its geometric design exactly as Van Gogh had drawn. Stars shot from every direction, the spent ones drifting down.

“Holy shit.” Tor pointed his beer bottle at the screen. “When did you do that?”

Van Gogh shrugged. “After hours. We wanted to surprise you guys.”

“You did.” Jasmina gaped. “I want one of those.”

Clover’s mom nodded. “Me, too.”

“Sorry, guys, but no way.” Clover slipped her arm around Van Gogh’s shoulders. “This is a one-of-a-kind tat. Mine alone.”

Just like her guy and the future he’d promised then kept delivering.

They’d never belonged anywhere until they’d met. Together, they could face anything and win.

With each other, they’d found a home.

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