Chapter 18 Dutch
EIGHTEEN
Dutch
Monte:
Checking in. That crisp New England air helping out? I was hoping for some pages.
I flipped my phone face down on my desk. It had been a month since I’d gone to the library with Phoebe. My rolling blackboard had a solid plot outline on it. I almost picked up my phone to send a photo of the blackboard to my editor, but I still didn’t want to share.
Not because I wasn’t sure of the story beats, but because of the itch along the back of my neck.
I knew Monte didn’t have anything to do with Christopher’s bullshit. At least I was pretty sure of it.
But I’d trusted Chris for over thirteen years.
He’d been the one to get me my first deal with Raven Boulevard.
It had been a small arm of a larger titan in the publishing industry.
Chris got me a decent deal for my first book and when Adaptation had been a sleeper hit my life had changed.
The only horror authors to hit The New York Times at the time had been King and Koontz.
My book had kickstarted both of our careers. I’d done more than that, if I was honest. Now Raven Boulevard was the premier horror imprint.
And Chris had been a sought-after agent. It still didn’t make sense why he’d fucked me over so royally. The fact that I still felt any sense of loyalty to him made no sense.
Annoyed that thoughts of Chris could still derail me, I left my office to get some air. I had one hundred good pages for Monte at least. The problem was, this book wasn’t what I’d been contracted for.
The minute she saw these pages, I’d have to truly face everything.
And I still wasn’t ready to do that.
Mouse popped up off the couch when I grabbed my flannel then met me at the door. I’d fallen into a routine with Phoebe as well as the damn dog. Mouse arrived each morning on the porch depending on whether I stayed with Phoebe for the night or not.
The two of them were the only things keeping me from spiraling out.
That and the lake.
Each day, Providence Lake melted a little more. I’d discovered the pier hidden under all the snow and ice. It probably wasn’t smart, but I’d ordered a scull to row out onto the lake. It was a ridiculous expense, but I wanted a firsthand look at the vast lake. It was becoming a singular focus.
I picked my way down the rock-hewn stairs to the pier. Mouse raced off the front of the porch and took the long way around to the beach, meeting me in the same area. He wasn’t willing to get on the pier. Mouse loved to run along the water’s edge, but he didn’t get more than his feet wet.
I couldn’t blame him. It was still too damn cold to accidentally fall into the water. I’d already done it once. Helluva way to start the morning.
I dragged in a deep breath. The car under the lake had infiltrated my dreams again. My brain held on to the stories from the town and had twisted the what-ifs and fears into a portal for my book. Where the deepest part of the lake met with another place where innocence was an energy commodity.
The psychology of fear consumed my dreams and more than once, I’d almost shared the idea with Phoebe.
But something always held me back.
She didn’t give me any reason to doubt her, but I’d learned the hard way that I wasn’t the best judge of people.
Mouse barked at me, then took off for the beach. I followed the stone path back up to my porch and spotted why the dog was losing his mind.
Phoebe was back.
I’d spent the last three nights without her thanks to an out-of-town job. A restaurant in the Adirondacks had hired her to paint their terrace fence. She’d been sending me progress photos and shots of her on the balcony of the hotel covered in paint splotches.
She was a menace.
Just thinking about her skin had me picking up the pace.
She spotted me as well, quickly crossing the road to meet me. My chest eased when her smile widened and she jumped into my arms. I grunted, taking the hit and the glitter bomb of Phoebe’s honey scent and perpetually painted clothes. Worth it every fucking time.
I caught her mouth in a hot, drugging kiss.
She moaned into my mouth and the sunshine inside of her made me realize just how much I’d come to rely on her. To a dangerous degree.
I set her down, slowing the kiss as I pulled away.
She swayed into me. “Well, hello there.”
“I didn’t expect you until the end of the week. How was the trip?”
“Long. I missed you.”
“I missed you too.” My voice was little more than a rumble. “All finished?”
She sighed. “No, they had some setbacks with the builders. I go back in April.” She flicked a paint smudged nail down the buttons of my flannel. “Maybe we could go together. That balcony is pretty spectacular.”
Making plans with her felt easy and right, but when I didn’t answer right away she gave me a wary look.
“It was just an ide—”
I cut her off, kissing her again. “A very good idea. I saw the mountains from your point of view. And that balcony gave me several ideas.”
She relaxed against me. “Is that right?”
I turned her in my arms, dragging her perfect ass against the front of my jeans. “I could demonstrate a little.” I urged her up the gravel drive of her place, but instead of the house I turned us into her studio.
With shaking hands, she unlocked the door as I snaked my hand down into her yoga pants. Within moments she was wet and pliant for me, my name a moan on her breath.
I pushed her into the sturdy drafting desk, lifting her off her toes as I drove my fingers into her. She turned her head to meet my mouth, the kiss just as heated as each quick thrust of my hand. I pulled down her pants and unbuckled my own enough to get what I needed.
What she needed from me.
I swore as the tip of my cock slipped in bare.
I froze.
She pushed back on me. “Don’t stop.”
“Wait.” I stepped back, already missing that clasping heat. I had to protect her. I spotted the little jar of condoms we’d taken to leaving in the studio.
We learned that lesson the hard way a few times.
I hurried back to her, taking a moment to protect her from being forever linked to me by accident. I couldn’t do that to her.
She threw a look over her shoulder, her hand reaching back for me.
Lust riding both of us, I drove into her hard enough to lift her onto her toes. She held onto the edges of the drafting table, pushing back on me just as ruthlessly as I crowded into her.
I knew just how to touch her.
What she needed.
We were a unit here, in this.
I craved this connection more every day.
Her arm raised, her fingers tangled into my hair, dragging me down against her. I scraped my teeth along her nape, nipping a little too roughly as I rocked into her again and again. Her thighs took each punishing slap from mine. Her body made for me.
I stroked her clit more firmly and felt her shudder and splinter for me.
My name mixed with her cries as I took her in the sunlight and when I finally let myself go, my arms were wrapped around her, my face buried in her neck. The peace more drugging than any orgasm.
When she sagged against the table, I saw the painting tacked there.
The skies a mottled gray with a streak of sunlight shimmering on the lake.
The car shimmering in the dark depths.
“When did you do this?”
“Hmm?” She looked up at me with pleasure soaked eyes.
I kissed her nape. “The painting I just fucked you against.” I said with one last stroke.
“Oh.” She licked her lips. “Sorry, I don’t have any braincells yet.”
“Sorry.” I stepped away from her. “Sometimes it’s jarring how much you pull images from my writing into your paintings.”
The tiny lick of warning broke through the peace.
She fixed her clothes as she turned in my arms. “I see it sometimes.”
I frowned down at her.
“The way you talk about the lake. I pick up on it.”
“What do you mean?”
She looked uncomfortable. “It’s no big deal.”
I frowned. “Did you read my book?”
“What? No. I wish you’d let me, but no.”
I froze. “You didn’t peek at all?”
“No, never. I wouldn’t do that. I know you’re protective of your work. I got that loud and clear, Dutch. Believe me.” She eased around me and over to the kitchenette for a bottle of water.
“Then what do you mean?”
“Look, I don’t know how it works okay. I can sometimes feel what you do. I call it vibes, not that the word really means anything anymore. I pick up on emotions. I always have. My family can be a little volatile. Just like you.”
The suspicions faded.
“I’m sorry, Phoebe.” I walked toward her and she held up a hand.
“Look, I get it. We’re both artists. I’m probably the only person who really understands you like that and even I don’t know why you get set off sometimes.”
“I…”
The words were there on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t share the secret I held on to for too damn long.
“I just wish you trusted me with it.”
“I do trust you.”
“No, you really don’t.” She tossed the empty bottle into the recycle bin. “I have to unpack my truck.”
“Phoebe.”
“Just give me a few minutes, all right?”
I blew out a breath. “Yeah.”
I watched her go, annoyed at myself for the knee jerk reaction. My chest tightened when she crouched down with the dog, hugging him tightly.
“You’re such an asshole,” I muttered to myself.