“You did a fantastic job, Aida,” Owen said. “Nicolette is an idiot for always making you think otherwise.”
“She’s a perfectionist.”
Aida had no idea why she was defending the woman who could make her life a living hell, but it had become instinctual as she often heard the same thing from Kyle and Cassidy. Neither of them understood why she continued to work here, but they didn’t realize her love for the place outweighed her hate for it.
When that changed, she’d probably move on, but until then, she could suffer through Nicolette’s craziness if it meant she could stand in this building and absorb the beauty and peace of the art surrounding her. It was a balm on her battered soul.
“That’s not why she makes you rearrange everything every time,” Owen said.
“Oh, and why do you think she does it?”
“Because she’s afraid you’ll realize how talented you are and leave her.”
Aida started to laugh but stopped when she saw the seriousness on his face. “That’s not why.”
And then she recalled the many, many times Nicolette called her in to rearrange everything she’d done, only to have it look almost exactly the same afterward. For all his self-absorption, Aida realized Owen might be onto something, but there wasn’t much she could do about it.
“She shows my photographs sometimes,” Aida said.
“You’re talented in photography, Aida, but this is where you really shine. You should run, or own, a gallery.”
Aida stared at the painting on the walls as she considered the idea of running or owning a gallery. Right now, her focus was on paying her bills and her photography, but the idea of owning a gallery intrigued her.
She had no idea where she’d get the money for such a thing, but it would be amazing to walk through the halls of her gallery. Maybe Mike and some of the others would invest in it, but before she could ask, she had to save up enough money to help in the investment, and she would have to formulate a solid plan to present to them. It could take years, but that was okay, she had a lot more to learn about this business anyway. And maybe next week she wouldn’t think this was a great idea, but she doubted it.
“I… ah… I never really thought about it,” she admitted.
“You should,” he said. “Now, let’s go meet your friends.”
She didn’t know how he could make her like him one second and dislike him so much in the next. She wanted an hour or two of relaxing with some food, a beer, and Cassidy’s songs. Having to spend the rest of the night fending off Owen’s advances was about as relaxing as having a tornado coming at her, but she didn’t have a choice.
She had to kiss his ass, because no matter what he said about Nicolette being scared she’d leave, if he pulled his paintings out of here tomorrow, she’d find herself jobless. No gallery was going to hire the girl who blew an Owen showing.
“I’m not staying out late,” she said. “Nicolette’s probably going to call me at six.”
“I have no doubt.”
Pulling her keys out of her purse, she sorted through them until she found the one for the main door. She started toward the door, but he stopped her by clasping her arm and pulled her toward him.
Shock immobilized her, and when she released a startled sound, he stuck his tongue in her mouth. Aida almost chomped down on it, but before she bit it off, she came back to her senses enough to jerk away from him.
Don’t hit the talent. But she yearned to punch him in his too smug, too handsome face. How dare he! She’d told him “no” more times than she could count, reiterating they were better as friends, and she’d never given him any reason to think anything was different. Yet, he’d still touched her, and worse, he kissed her.
And that kiss had been so like the vampires slithering over her. Their mouths had moved over her skin as they sought a place to bite her. They hadn’t raped her because she was to be auctioned off at the end of the hunt, and whoever bought her wouldn’t pay as much if their friends sampled the goods first.
No, they hadn’t raped her, but those vamps violated her in countless other ways. She’d never forget the feel of their hot mouths against her icy skin or the agony of their unwelcome bite.
Aida rested her hand against her forehead as she struggled to suppress her memories while her temper burned like the sun. Lifting her head, she leveled Owen with a stare. Even if she lost her job, she refused to let this continue.
She opened her mouth, but no words came out as her gaze settled on the front windows. There, on the street, stood a man who looked eerily similar to Julian, but it couldn’t be. She closed her eyes briefly before opening them again. She’d fully expected him to disappear, but he remained standing there with his eyes locked on her and Owen.
He barely resembled the boy she recalled every day, but she had no doubt the man before her was the one who walked away years ago.
“Julian,” she breathed.
Without thinking, she tore her arm away from Owen and raced for the door. She didn’t hear her purse hit the floor, didn’t realize she’d dropped her coat as she fumbled for the handle and threw open the door.
She plunged into the April night and gasped when goose bumps broke out on her arms and legs. The black pants and white blouse she wore were useless against the cold, but she didn’t retreat inside as she frantically searched the streets for him.
“Watch it,” someone muttered when she shoved past them, but she didn’t pay them any attention.
Running in her boots wasn’t exactly easy, but she weaved in and out of the crowd in search of the man who was at once so familiar and a complete stranger. Then, she spotted him with his hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched up as he stalked toward the bar where Cassidy and Kyle worked.
It was him, but it couldn’t be. He walked away years ago, why would he be back now?
She ignored the anger and catcalls as she bumped her way through more people. She imagined him, but she couldn’t get herself to stop chasing this stranger. She had no idea what she was going to do when she caught up to him. And then, he was at the steps leading down into the bar.
Before he could descend, she seized his wrist and jerked him toward her. She’d been afraid she was chasing a stranger who only resembled Julian. Someone who would think she was a lunatic—and maybe she was—but her heart slammed against her ribs when he turned toward her and his striking lapis-colored eyes met hers.
She barely suppressed a strangled cry as her hand flew to her mouth. It had been years since she looked into those striking eyes, but they’d haunted her dreams almost every night he was gone.
He’d grown into everything she knew he would. He was still lean, but his shoulders had broadened and thickened over the years. A neatly trimmed, black beard shadowed his square jaw and emphasized his stiff upper lip and full bottom one.
Those lips brought back the heated memory of his kiss. Her experience with Julian was so different than what happened with Owen tonight. He’d awakened her body and heart in ways she’d never dreamed possible, and then he left without so much as a goodbye, a call, or a text message to let her know he was alive.
And he’d never bothered to respond to her when she tried to talk to him—a fact that still caused her cheeks to burn with anger and shame as she buried her urge to kick him, hit him, or scream. She was so lost back then, and he was the rock who sat in the woods with her while she was losing her shit. Then, one day, her rock vanished.
When he first started joining her in the woods, he would sit beside her with his hand resting near hers on the leafy ground. He didn’t touch her because he knew the touch of another made her shudder.
Over time, his hand steadily crept closer until he could touch her without her recoiling. Then, one day, his hand had clasped hers, and eventually, she tolerated his arm around her shoulders while she leaned against him and cried.
And as time passed, she did less crying and more leaning against him while they talked, laughed, and studied the stars. They didn’t know any of the constellations; they could have asked Mia to help them, but they far preferred to make up their own shapes and names for the stars.
He’d been her best friend, but his kiss officially kicked him out of the friend zone and made him something she’d never figured out.
“Julian,” she breathed.
Julian couldn’t speak as he stared into her wide, golden-brown eyes. He’d recalled every detail of her repeatedly over the years, but time had honed and perfected her beauty in ways he hadn’t imagined. Her round, youthful face was thinner, and her cheekbones more pronounced. Slightly longer than when he last saw her, she’d straightened her hair, and it now dangled against her waist. Still the color of porcelain, her skin remained unblemished.
Her fingers burned into his wrist, and he started to reach out to cup her cheek, but he pulled his hand away. Just minutes ago, she was kissing another man. He’d set her free to live her life, and she was doing precisely that. He wouldn’t interfere.
He never should have gone to the gallery in the first place. He’d cursed and hated himself with every step he took toward the building, but he couldn’t get his traitorous feet to stop. And he’d paid the price for interfering in her life.
His jaw clenched as he recalled her kissing the other man, and he had to look past her to get his fury under control. He couldn’t kill the man, he wanted to, but he couldn’t do that to her. However, he couldn’t be near her right now either.