Chapter Five
P anting, desperate, she rode him as though her life depended on it, as though the fate of the universe hinged on the tension ratcheting tighter and tighter within her body. His own urgency growing, Casey slid his hands onto her ass and used the leverage to thrust up into her, rocking her hips back and forth to increase the contact between them.
It was too much, too perfect, and suddenly she was gone. The world fell away, and for precious seconds there was nothing but pleasure as her body throbbed around his. He groaned, his cheek pressed to her breast, his breath hot on her skin as he found his own release mere seconds later.
She could barely keep her head up afterward, sliding off his lap and onto the bed in one boneless movement. Her body felt warm and loose and damp as she lay with her eyes closed, her breathing still labored.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so turned on and so desperate for satisfaction. And he’d been perfect. The way he’d kissed her, the way he’d tortured her breasts, his lovely cock…
The mattress dipped as Casey moved around beside her and she cracked an eye, only to realize he was taking care of the condom, wrapping it in a tissue before lobbing it toward the small trash can at the other end of the trailer.
“He shoots, he scores,” she said when it landed dead center.
He glanced across at her and treated her to one of his devastating smiles. “Hell, yeah.”
She smiled in return and closed her eyes again, unable to keep them open.
“I think you just ruined me, cowboy. Thanks for being so freaking hot.”
“Feeling’s mutual, trust me.”
The mattress dipped again and she opened her eyes to find him lying on his side beside her, head propped on his hand, his gaze roving lazily over her body.
“Tell me about this,” he said, tracing the curving edge of the tattoo on her arm.
She glanced down at her own arm. The tattoo was so much a part of her now she often forgot she had it. An abstract design, it zigzagged jaggedly down her upper arm in a black stroke that looked as though it could have been painted with a brush. Behind it were bright sprays of color—purple, yellow, green, blue, red.
“A friend started tattooing in LA, and I wanted to support her,” she explained. “It’s a sort of homage to my early days in street art. That ridiculous squiggle used to be my tag.”
He angled his head, trying to “read” it, and she laughed.
“Don’t bother trying to see my name in it. We deliberately kept things vague so we didn’t get caught.”
“I’m getting the sense you were trouble,” he said.
“Depends on how you define trouble,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.
His gaze dropped to her breasts, lingering on her nipples, before skimming over her belly to focus on the damp triangle of hair between her legs. There was no mistaking the hunger in his eyes, or the way his cock was already hardening once again.
“It’s barely been five minutes,” she said laughingly, not sure she was up for round two just yet.
“Your fault,” he said. “These drive me crazy.” He leaned his head forward and lapped at her right breast, the rough, wet velvet of his tongue bringing her nipple to instant attention.
She felt the stir of renewed desire between her thighs, and the fog of satisfaction clouding her mind slipped away.
Apparently round two was not out of the question, after all.
His hand cupped her left breast, his rough thumb teasing her to hardness even as his mouth did the same on her other breast. She lifted her hips restlessly, needing more already. As if he could read her mind, Casey slid a hand down her belly and between her legs.
She spread wide for him, unashamed of how much she wanted him, of how good he made her feel. He stroked her with strong, confident fingers, before zeroing in on the spot that made her moan. Then he really went to work, stroking her pussy and kissing and sucking on her breasts until she was gripping the sheets in both hands and trembling with the building tension.
“Tell me what you want and it’s yours,” he said, his voice a gravelly promise.
Images flitted across her mind’s eye, each more decadent and dirty than the last. Then she felt the press of his erection against her thigh and knew that no matter what, she had to have him again.
“You, inside me,” she panted.
He left her briefly to grab another condom, and she watched impatiently as he slid it on. Then he rolled on top of her, his hairy legs rough against hers, his weight bearing down on her, and there was nothing in the world except the two of them.
She lifted her hips, welcoming him, and he thrust inside her, so hard and hot she whimpered with how good it felt.
This time around he was in charge, and he set a punishing pace, driving into her hard and fast. It was exactly what she wanted, what she needed, and it wasn’t long before she was arching off the bed, a second climax rippling through her. Then and only then did he slow the pace, his thrusts becoming almost leisurely as he stroked into her again and again. She watched his face, watched the pleasure taking him over, saw the hitch in his breathing, the way his neck muscles got tense and his mouth opened as he finally came.
His weight came onto her fully for a long moment afterward, his face pressing into her neck. Then he caught himself, stirring lazily.
“Sorry.”
Withdrawing, he rolled off her, and she was surprised by the odd sense of loss she felt. Thrown, she reached out to snag the quilt and pulled it over both of them.
“Now I really am ruined,” she said.
“Never say never,” he said. His eyes were closed, and a small, slightly smug smile curved his mouth.
She figured he’d earned that smile, because it had been a long time since she’d felt this good. And to think, she’d almost denied herself this pleasure.
She pushed her pillow into a more acceptable shape and studied his profile, her brain still moving at half speed thanks to all the post-great-sex endorphins.
His nose was straight, and his cheeks were just starting to darken as his beard grew in. She had a sudden urge to reach out and test the texture of his stubble with her fingers, but instead she curled her hand into a fist.
There would be no tender after-play with this man. She wasn’t stupid enough to walk into that bear trap.
“Tell me something I don’t know, Casey Carmody,” she said instead.
“What about? Quantum mechanics? Comparative religion? World championship chess?”
She laughed. “Do you know anything about any of those things?”
“Enough to sound stupid, but that’s about it.” He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at her. “Maybe you should narrow the field a little.”
“Tell me about the ranch. Is it Jed’s place, and you and Sierra are just helping him out, or do you all own it or what?” she asked, figuring it was a pretty safe topic.
“All four of us own it—me, Jed, Jesse, and Sierra. You haven’t met Jesse. He’s a pro saddle bronc rider and he and his girlfriend CJ usually only come home when the circuit brings them back to this part of the state.”
“It’s pretty cool that you like your family enough to invest with them. I love my sister, Syd, but no way would I go into business with her.”
Casey hesitated a moment. “We actually inherited the place after our parents died in a car accident.”
“Shit.” Eva closed her eyes. So much for the ranch being a safe topic. “I’m so sorry.”
“It was thirteen years ago,” he said with a shrug.
Eva did the math in her head. She figured Casey was around her age—twenty-seven—which meant he couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen when his parents died.
“So you were just a kid? It must have turned your world upside down.”
“Pretty much. Jed had to leave agricultural college, come home and hold us all together. And Jesse kind of went off the rails for a while.”
“What did you do?”
He frowned, his gaze on the ceiling. “Kept to myself, mostly. Couldn’t play my guitar, ‘coz Dad gave it to me.” He glanced at her. “Not my favorite year.”
“Hell, no. I can’t even imagine.” The words felt utterly inadequate.
“In the end, having to keep this place going saved us,” Casey said. “At first we just needed to pay the mortgage, put food on the table. Then it became more about preserving their legacy. They bought this land, built the house, developed the herd. They lived in this trailer for over a year when they first started out, if you can believe it.”
“For real?” Eva looked around the small space, trying to imagine sharing it with another person day in, day out. “They were either very happily married, or incredibly tolerant.”
“Bit of both, I think,” he said with a smile, his eyelids drifting shut.
Eva watched his face soften as he drifted into a light sleep. She closed her own eyes, enjoying the lassitude in her body. But instead of falling asleep, her mind started sifting through the events of the evening, anxiously parsing the meeting with the McGregors and the woman from the Chamber of Commerce, trying to assure herself she’d done everything humanly possible to advocate for herself. Inevitably her thoughts moved on to the fight with Dane at the saloon, and she felt a prickle of embarrassment, along with a wash of anger and hurt as she remembered what he’d said to her, the coldness and disdain in his eyes.
It was hard to believe that things had gotten so ugly between them. She’d spent five years with him. They’d had amazing adventures together—but it had all been on his terms. She could see that clearly now, and as soon as she’d started to advocate for herself, to ask for something that might progress her career and ambitions, he had become angry, resentful, and finally, openly selfish.
And now she could add nasty to the list.
She had to take a deep, steadying breath as she remembered the way he’d essentially called her a whore in front of the whole bar. She might have made a spectacle of herself, throwing water in his face and following it up with the basket of pretzels, but she was glad it was rage she’d felt, and not hurt.
Not then, anyway.
Now… Now she felt weary and sad and stupid that she’d wasted five years on a man whose first move when he felt threatened was to try to humiliate her using the oldest, most obvious weapon at hand—her virtue, or lack thereof.
Do you really want to do this now?
No, she did not. Tonight might have started badly, but it had ended with a big, happy bang, and she was going to hang on to the memory of Casey Carmody worshiping her body when she hit the road tomorrow. It was going to be the highlight of her trip, the silver lining, and she wasn’t going to taint or dilute the experience by lying in bed next to him brooding over her ex. It was wasted energy.
She deliberately refocused her thoughts, thinking instead about what Casey had told her about the ranch and his siblings, about the ranch helping save his family after his parents had died. There had been gravel in his voice when he talked about preserving their legacy.
It was a noble calling, and she tried to imagine what it must be like to have such a strong sense of connection to the land and a way of life.
Life. Love. Legacy .
The words drifted across her mind as sleep rose up to take her.
Then suddenly the idea was there, clear and crisp and undeniable.
“That’s it,” she said, sitting up with sudden urgency. “Oh my God, that’s it .”
“What?” Casey murmured.
“The grain elevator. I just worked out what the theme should be,” Eva said, scrambling out of bed to find her sketchpad and pencils.
She pulled it out of her backpack with urgent hands and climbed back onto the bed. Legs crossed, she dragged the corner of the quilt around her shoulders and flipped to a fresh page in the pad.
Then, her brain racing, she started to sketch.
*
Casey lay with his arms cradling his head, still pleasantly drowsy after some of the best sex of his life. He could hear the scritch-scratch of a pencil on paper and guessed Eva was busily sketching something, trying to capture an idea before it evaporated. He’d done the same with song lyrics, and he waited for her to finish and rejoin him under the covers. He knew for a fact that there was one condom left in her toiletries kit and once he recovered enough he had definite plans to use it.
In the meantime, he closed his eyes and listened to Eva draw or take notes or whatever it was she was doing. After a few minutes, she still wasn’t done and he opened his eyes and saw how engrossed she was.
Huh.
He shifted in the bed, making a big deal out of adjusting the quilt. Eva didn’t so much as glance up.
Okay.
Clearly, she was very absorbed in her work. Lucky he wasn’t the sort of guy who was insulted easily.
He glanced toward her toiletry bag, but his hopes for round three were rapidly dwindling. He gave it another ten minutes, then Eva flipped to a fresh page in her sketchbook and started on a new sketch.
“I can go, if you prefer,” he offered. Better to ask what she wanted rather than assume anything.
Eva barely looked up. “Oh. Um, sure. If you want. Up to you.”
And then her head was back down, her pencil moving over the page.
Casey raised his eyebrows. His reaction was wasted on her, however, because she was utterly focused on her work. He sat up and threw back the covers. Shifting to the edge of the mattress, he stood and reached for his jeans. Eva continued to sketch, and he glanced across at what she was drawing.
It was a woman’s face, weary and careworn, her gaze focused on something in the distance. Eva had used powerful pencil strokes and delicate cross-hatching to create shadow, and even though it was only a bare-bones portrait, quickly rendered, he was struck by the emotion in the woman’s eyes. He didn’t know much about art, but even he could tell Eva was good at what she did.
She muttered something under her breath and flipped the page, immediately starting to sketch in the outline of a new portrait.
He realized he was standing there, naked, jeans in hand, and gave himself a mental shake. He stepped into his jeans, yanking them up, then found his T-shirt on the counter, on top of her computer. He shoved one boot on, then the other. He paused after he’d pocketed his keys and phone, wondering if it was even worth interrupting her. She must have sensed his diffidence because she looked up, her expression distracted.
“Thanks for tonight. I had a good time.”
“Me, too,” he said.
She smiled, but he could see her mind was still in her work.
“What time you heading off tomorrow?” he asked.
“Not sure yet,” she said.
“Well…okay,” he said, unsure if he should say goodbye or if he’d maybe catch her tomorrow.
“Sleep tight,” she said, and then her gaze dropped to her sketchpad and she was drawing again, sucked into some world only she could see.
Bemused and maybe a little offended, Casey let himself out of the trailer. The warmth of the day was well and truly gone now and his stride was long as he made his way up to the house, entering via the kitchen door.
Sierra looked up from where she was making herself a hot chocolate, her expression surprised.
“Hey. Didn’t hear your truck come in,” she said.
Casey hesitated, unsure what to say in response to his sister’s casual comment. Sierra’s eyebrows rose in silent query as she registered his weirdness.
“I was, um, talking to Eva,” he said. “We ran into each other in town. Got talking.”
“Okay,” Sierra said, her tone telling him she suspected there was more to the story than he was offering.
“Got those plant stakes you wanted from the hardware store,” he said. “They’re in the back of my truck, I’ll grab them for you in the morning.”
He headed for the door, eager for the privacy of his bedroom.
“Wait. Hang on. You can’t just walk out. We were having a conversation,” Sierra called after him.
Interrogation, more like. He’d seen the look in his sister’s eye, and he knew he’d been dumb enough to give her ammunition when he hesitated before responding to what was, in hindsight, a perfectly innocent comment.
Realistically, bailing on Sierra now only meant a delay—his sister would be sure to pursue him tomorrow because she was nosy as hell when it came to her brothers’ romantic lives—but right now that seemed like a good trade-off.
He took care of his teeth, then shut his bedroom door and stripped for bed. Stretched out under the covers, he tried to analyze his own feelings.
He felt…dismissed. There was no other word for it.
Kind of dumb, when he considered what he and Eva were to each other. She was going home to LA tomorrow. Neither of them had any claim on the other. And it wasn’t as though she’d kicked him out—he’d volunteered to leave, mostly out of stupid pride because she’d moved on so quickly from what had been a pretty damn notable event for him.
But maybe she had great sex like that all the time. Maybe the sense of affinity he’d felt with her was entirely one-sided.
Jesus, can you hear yourself?
He could, and it was pissing him off. As he’d already established, she was going home tomorrow. Him lying in his bed brooding over how he felt and what she’d said or not said was bullshit.
They’d had their one night. It was over, before it had even started. And there was nothing he could do or say that was going to change that.
*
Eva sketched until her hand cramped and her neck ached. Taking a break, she registered three things all at once: she was cold, her bladder was full, and it was very late. Unfolding her cramped legs, she stood and stretched, then quickly leafed through the sketches she’d made. Some of them were good, a lot were so-so, but a couple were great.
Were they enough to swing the decision in her direction? She had no idea—but she had to try.
She’d been so close to giving up, just getting in Bertha and driving away. But she knew now that she couldn’t leave Marietta without sharing her new ideas with the committee somehow. She couldn’t leave anything on the table, otherwise she would always wonder what might have happened if she’d only pushed a little harder.
But right now, she really needed to go to the bathroom. Hustling to the other end of the trailer, she took care of business, then stood in the tiny bathroom staring absently at her reflection as she brushed her teeth.
She felt simultaneously wired and tired, her body exhausted by her epic session with Casey, her mind busy with ideas and plans.
The way she saw it, she had two options tomorrow—she could try to get an audience with Jane, who was apparently in the middle of some kind of work crisis, or she could hunt the McGregors down and pitch to them.
It was a fairly easy decision to make—it may have only been an illusion, but she’d felt as though Heath and Andie McGregor had been more sympathetic to her cause. Probably she was misreading pity and politeness for something else, but what the hell.
Conveniently, she happened to know where she had a good chance of finding the McGregors tomorrow morning, since their housing development was adjacent to the grain elevator. She would get up early, take the best of her sketches, and go make her Hail Mary pitch. And if that didn’t move the needle, then she’d get in her van and start the long drive home.
Which meant she really needed to go to bed now, because despite the hope fizzing through her veins, the odds were good she’d be on the road tomorrow.
Turning off the light in the bathroom, she walked the short distance to the bed and clambered onto the mattress. The pillow still held the impression of Casey’s head, and when she lay down she detected the faint scent of his deodorant.
Now that the urge to give life to her ideas had faded a little, she remembered the way he’d left and winced. If the shoe were on the other foot, and he’d left the bed to go deal with business while she was still enjoying the afterglow, she was pretty sure she’d be a little ticked off, to say the least.
Damn it. She’d been an asshole, and he’d been so sweet and lovely tonight, intervening in the bar, escorting her to dinner, and then helping her enjoy two world-class orgasms.
She’d apologize to him tomorrow, explain her urgency to him. Hopefully he’d understand. It would be sucky indeed if he was left with the impression she was an ungrateful, selfish sex maniac. She didn’t want him to think badly of her, not when she would be taking home such awesome memories of him.
*
Between anxiety over ambushing the McGregors and guilt over Casey, it took her a while to fall asleep, but she finally dropped off, waking with a start when the alarm she’d set on her phone sounded. The first thing she did was scramble to the edge of the bed to review the sketches she’d made last night.
She hadn’t been in the grip of a post-sex fever dream—they were good. She closed her eyes and sent a little prayer out into the universe before tearing out the three sketches that best captured her vision. Then she hit the shower. Twenty minutes later, she was out the door, sketchbook under her arm. It was still dark out, dawn only just turning the horizon peachy-pink. There was condensation on her windshield, and the steering wheel was cool beneath her hands as she started the van and did a three-point turn to head down the driveway.
Mindful of Casey’s warning about deer, she went a little slower than she might have usually. Dawn arrived just as she was pulling off the highway onto the side road that led past the grain elevator, and she was relieved to see several pickups and SUVs parked near the portable site office when she turned into the first street of the development.
She took a moment to steady her nerves, flipping down the visor to make sure she wasn’t sporting eye booger. She looked fine, which meant she had no more excuses. She pushed the door open, grabbed her sketchpad, and strode toward the site office.
The metal stair treads clanged beneath her Chuck Taylors as she climbed, and she knocked briskly on the closed door. She couldn’t hear anyone inside, and she was starting to think she’d beaten the McGregors to work when the door opened to reveal Andie.
“Eva,” she said, surprised. Then she laughed. “That’s so weird—we were just talking about you.”
“I won’t take up too much of your time, I promise, but I had what I guess you could call an epiphany last night, and even though I know the committee might have already made a decision, I didn’t want to leave without telling you about it,” she said, her words coming out a little too fast and loud.
“Okay. Sure. Come in,” Andie said, standing back and gesturing for Eva to enter.
The small space featured a desk at the far end, a bookshelf, and a bar fridge, which doubled as a table for a coffee maker. Heath was filling a mug as Eva entered, and he turned and offered it to her with a small smile.
“Figured you might not have had one of these yet,” he said.
“I haven’t, thanks,” Eva said, wrapping her clammy fingers around the warm mug.
“Sit, please,” Andie said, indicating a battered guest chair.
Eva sank into the seat, then leaned forward and set her coffee on the desk.
“I know you’re busy. I just wanted to show you these. Last night, I was talking to Casey Carmody, and he said something that got me thinking about families, community, and legacy. And I realized that the triptych shouldn’t just be about Marietta now , it should be about Marietta before , and Marietta after , too.”
Andie and Heath were frowning, and Eva could tell she was making a hash of conveying her vision. She pulled out the three images she’d chosen from last night’s work and set them side by side on the desk, hoping they’d speak for themselves.
The first sketch was a woman, her hair pulled back in a no-nonsense bun, her stern face weathered by the elements. She wore a simple, old fashioned dress, and one hand shaded her eyes as she kept watch over her land. Next was a depiction of a modern-day cowboy on horseback, his gaze aimed straight down the barrel as he stood ready to take on the world. And the last sketch featured two children, a boy and girl, each in jeans and plaid shirts and miniature cowboy hats, their faces turned up toward the sun, laughter and hope in their faces.
“Past, present, future,” Eva said simply.
It had felt so right, so fitting last night, and she held her breath, waiting for Andie and Heath’s reaction.
“I love it,” Andie said. Then she shot Heath a slightly sheepish look. “I know I probably shouldn’t say that, given the situation, but it’s a great idea, and I love these sketches.”
Heath was studying the pictures, and he glanced at Eva assessingly.
“The reason Andie and I were just talking about you is because we were going to call you first thing,” he said.
Eva had been so focused on what she needed to say and do, Andie’s words had barely registered when she first arrived. Now Heath had brought them to her attention, however, they seemed loaded with portent.
“Right.” She reached forward to grab her coffee, needing something solid to wrap her hands around.
“We talked with Jane last night, and we were all on the same page—we can’t decide.”
“Oh,” Eva said. Then it hit her what he meant—that she was still in with a chance—and she sat up straighter.
“So what we decided was that we’d like to see a more detailed proposal from both contenders,” Andie said.
“More detail. Sure, I can do that,” Eva said, trying to stop herself from grinning like a demented person.
Contrary to what she’d thought, they’d taken her proposal seriously. She still had a chance of winning the commission.
This could actually happen.
“We’re not sure how these things normally work,” Heath said. “We’ve got a limited budget for the project, but we can kick in some money to cover your accommodation costs for the week, if you think that would be enough time for you to pull something more detailed together.”
“So, a full week, or a working week?” Eva asked, even though she was prepared to work around the clock if it was the latter.
“A full week. We’d like to see sketches, an artist’s statement, and any other details you can provide,” Heath said.
“Of course. Absolutely,” Eva said, nodding to let him know she was on board with everything he was saying.
Andie smiled then, her pretty face lighting up. “You probably guessed, we weren’t expecting to be this torn. We thought we knew which direction we wanted to go in, but your presentation was really impressive. Scratch that— you were really impressive.”
The praise was so unexpected it brought the burn of tears to the back of Eva’s eyes. Embarrassed, she blinked rapidly and focused on her lap.
“Sorry,” she said, aware of hot color flooding into her face.
Andie’s hand landed on her shoulder, warm and reassuring. “It’s fine .”
Eva shook her head, only looking up when she was confident she wouldn’t cry. “You snuck up on me with the niceness. I wasn’t expecting it,” she said. “And it’s been kind of a tense few months.”
Andie smile sympathetically. “I get it. We’ve had our fair share of those lately, getting this development off the ground.”
Heath parked his butt on the edge of the desk and took a mouthful of his own coffee, apparently unfazed by shows of female emotion.
“Let us know if you need help finding somewhere to stay. I know there’s an agricultural show happening in Livingston and most places around here are booked up,” he said.
Eva frowned. She hadn’t thought about accommodations. She was reasonably confident Sierra would be happy for her to stay on in the trailer, but she couldn’t help wondering what Casey would make of her extending her stay. Neither of them had fallen into bed last night anticipating Eva would be sticking around.
Worry about it later, on your own time .
Right. She was chewing up Heath and Andie’s work day.
“I think I’ll probably be fine, but if I hit a snag I’ll let you know,” Eva said. Then she stood, slipping her sketches back inside the pages of the pad for protection. “Thanks for hearing me out, and for giving me a chance to flesh out my proposal. I’m really excited by the opportunity.”
“We’re happy to be in a position to have two amazing artists to choose from,” Heath said.
“Jane will be in touch to talk about contributing to your accommodation expenses, okay?” Andie said.
“All right. Great, thank you.”
Andie walked her out, and Eva waved goodbye to the other woman before walking across to the van. Aware of Andie and Heath standing talking in the doorway to the site office, she started the engine and drove out of the development. Only when she was safely parked in front of the grain elevator, well away from any witnesses, did she let out a whoop of triumph. Grabbing her phone, she rang her sister in LA, only remembering it was still very early there when Syd’s sleep-muffled voice answered the phone.
“Ev. What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”
“Sorry. I forgot the time difference. Do you want me to call back?” Eva asked, ready to button off.
“I’m awake now. What’s up? I assume this is not a life or death situation?”
Eva winced. Syd was not a morning person at the best of times.
“I really am sorry. I was ringing to let you know I’m in the running for the commission. The committee couldn’t make a decision, so they’re giving Dane and me a week to flesh out our proposals with more detail.”
“What? That’s freaking fantastic ,” Syd said, her voice high-pitched with excitement. “I’m so proud of you for going in to bat for yourself, babe. I knew it would pay off.”
“It hasn’t paid off yet, don’t get too excited. But it’s a good start. They admitted they really only spoke to me out of politeness, but I convinced them with the thoroughness of my proposal.”
“Of course you did, because you’re awesome.”
Eva laughed and let her head drop back against the seat. Her sister had always been her biggest cheerleader.
“I’m so relieved,” she admitted.
“I know. This is going to happen for you, Ev. I feel it in my waters.”
“Your bladder is predicting the future now? That’s impressive,” Eva said.
“I mean it. I have a good feeling about this project. I think this is going to be your launching pad.”
Eva squeezed her eyes shut tight. She wanted to believe her sister, because she needed and wanted this so badly, but she knew that she was still the underdog in this competition.
“Talk to me, Ev,” Syd said when the silence stretched too long.
“I saw Dane last night, at a bar in town. He told me I wasn’t really an artist. That the reason I didn’t have a profile was because I’d been content to ride on his coattails and didn’t have the urge to create my own art.” She hadn’t meant to tell her sister what Dane had said. Hadn’t ever wanted to think about it again, because she was terrified there was some truth in his words.
“What a piece of excrement,” Syd said hotly. “He wouldn’t have a career if it wasn’t for you, and he dares to try and tear you down? I swear to you, if I ever see him again, he’s going to be wearing his testicles as earrings.”
The quivering, fervent outrage in her sister’s voice went a long way toward making Eva feel better.
“I may have thrown a glass of water in his face, along with a basket full of pretzels,” Eva confessed.
“That’s my girl. Imagine how furious he must be that you’re in serious contention for this commission. Imagine how afraid he must be, deep inside, where he knows you were the secret to his success.”
Eva pulled a face. “Yeah, I’m not sure there’s any part of Dane that’s ready to admit I’m a threat to him. His ego is pretty much titanium-plated.”
“I’m so glad you’re not with him anymore, Ev. So glad.”
Eva sighed. “Me, too. Even though it sucks having to start from scratch, at least I know I’m working for a good cause this time—me.”
She talked for a few more minutes, then let her sister go so she could prepare for her day. The van seemed very quiet as she ended the call. She took a moment to simply breathe and get her thoughts in order.
She needed to refine her ideas, work up some art that she could mock up into a digital model for the committee. And she needed to start seriously considering what she’d need, and how long it would take if she actually won this thing.
But first she needed to check with Sierra to see if she and the rest of the Carmodys would be okay with Eva staying in the trailer for the week. She was pretty sure she knew what the answer was, but it never paid to take anything or anyone for granted.
Her thoughts flashed to Casey, to the way he’d made her feel last night, the things she’d said to him, the things he’d done to her.
If she’d known she was going to be sticking around, there was no way she would have complicated her living situation by jumping him the way she had.
And yet the truth was, she didn’t have it in her to regret what had happened between them. He’d made her mindless with intense, breath-stealing pleasure, and she’d needed the release he’d provided last night. It had been very good between them. Insanely good.
Don’t even think about it .
Because only a crazy woman would even consider going back for more when she had so much on her plate.
And Eva wasn’t crazy, no matter what her ex had told the patrons of Grey’s Saloon last night. No way was she going to let herself get derailed and distracted by a beautiful cowboy.
No way.
She punctuated the mental declaration by throwing the van door open and approaching the grain elevator. When she was close enough, she reached out and laid a hand on the roughened wood, tilting her head back to contemplate the structure’s epic scale.
For a few seconds, she let herself imagine that her sister’s prediction was true, that this really was going to be the springboard she needed to launch her career.
It could happen. It really could. She could feel how close she was.
All she’d ever asked for was a chance. Now she just had to make it count.