Chapter 13
STERLING
There’s something wrong with me. On second thought, she is what’s wrong with me. I’m almost begging her to stay—at least until the storm tapers off.
Never have I ever begged a woman for anything, not even a kiss. So why am I doing this? Because I want to understand my obsession with her. The time I’ve spent trying to bring her to life in my art.
I doubt it.
Staying close to her isn’t what I need. She’s who I need. There has to be something I can do for her that’ll keep her interested in me.
Stop it, asshole. The next step will be wooing her and trying to convince her to stay. But stay for what?
It’s only a month. She leaves in thirty days. There’s a longer expiration date than just one night and I’d like to take the extension. Is it possible to get her out of my system after those thirty days?
As I observe her, I know there’s something bugging her. A problem she needs to solve soon, but she’s not sure if it’s possible. Could I offer my help? Will she accept it?
She seems like the kind of woman who wants to show the world she can do everything on her own, but deep down wants someone to hold her hand. Independent, and scared to accept that she needs others.
I could be him. The one who she can count on while she’s going through this change.
“You’re a stranger,” she speaks.
“But we know enough that you can accept my offer. The guest room is comfortable,” I lie because I want her in my bed.
“Tomorrow I’ll just take a cab to pick up my car—”
“The one you left running and it’s most likely in need of fuel?”
She groans, stands up from her seat, and takes the bowl to the sink where she washes it. Totally type A personality. Too orderly and ready to plan every second of her life without even noticing what’s around her—or enjoying what she’s built.
Once she’s done, she walks toward the fireplace and takes a seat. She pulls her legs toward her body, hugging them and settling her chin on top of her knees.
Her pout is cute. It’s refreshing to be around a woman who doesn’t care that her curls are all over her face. She’s a natural beauty. Big brown eyes, long eyelashes, and her mouth, I just want to taste those full, heart-shaped lips again.
What are you thinking, sweetheart?
“Beckett will take care of your car once the storm is over,” I mention. “You could use my computer to order furniture.”
“I can’t spend money on new furniture,” she responds, her gaze on the fire.
“It’s on me,” I offer. “After you leave, I can increase the rent and make it an executive home.”
“Am I expected to rent it for the entire year?”
“That’s what the contract says,” I remind her because maybe she can come back and we can have another weekend together. “Look, I’m giving you a hand by buying the furniture. I’ll have my lawyer draw an amendment to it.”
“Thank you for letting me stay here and I’ll take the furniture too.” She laughs. “This isn’t part of my thirty-day plan.”
“Thirty days?” I ask and take a seat close to her. “What’s in this plan?”
She shrugs. “You’ll think I’m crazy.”
“Or I might help you. This season isn’t my favorite. I could use a distraction.”
“It’s on my iPad but it includes things like relaxing, learn calligraphy, pay it forward for an entire day, learn more about my family history—”
“Like genealogy?”
“Yep, Mom says her great-grandmother was Native American, but she doesn’t have any proof and then Dad’s grandmother had some Irish and Spanish roots.
It’d be cool to learn more about them. Take a solo trip, for pleasure.
I’m always traveling for work. Though, it’s something I’d have to hide from my family.
I might just go up to the mountains. It’ll be short and just me, you know. Everything I’m doing is top secret.”
“Why?”
June explains to me she’s the baby of the family.
Three older brothers and a twin sister who was born five minutes before her.
She talks lovingly about her parents. How her father retired a few years back.
Since then, her parents travel all year long except for the holidays.
She has two nieces—also twins—and her brother Jason and his wife are expecting a baby.
As she speaks of them, I can feel the love for her family just as I feel the melancholy of what her siblings have, and she doesn’t. A family. It can get lonely for some, and more during this time of the year.
Go home and be with them, I want to say.
I also want her to stay with me for the entire month. We could keep each other company and then there’s the question of why I even want that when I really don’t give two fucks about having someone—except, I care for her.
This isn’t what she wants, and I can’t offer her more. I can’t even fake I would be there for the long run. A month is enough for me but what about her?
Art is all that matters. I remind myself.
I stand up and look down at her. “You’re welcome to stay for as long as the storm lasts. The computer is in my office. You can start looking at furniture. We can try to buy a few pieces online and the rest we’ll go and purchase once we can go out.”
“Thank you,” she says. “For listening.”
“Make yourself at home.” I march to my home-studio, I need to work.