Chapter 14
STERLING
I spend all day in my studio working on a few drawings—of June.
Then at dinner time, I come out and find her cooking.
There’s never been anyone else cooking for me, let alone a goddess like her.
She’s wearing just the T-shirt I gave her.
I stare at her long legs and imagine them wrapped around my head as I pound my dick inside her.
Dude, change your train of thought or you’re going to lose her before you have her.
I try to push down the urge but how can I when she’s so fucking beautiful. Her hair is tied into a messy do. Some strands hang around her neck. For one hot second I wish for this to be my life. The next I just want to bend her on the counter and fuck her hard.
“Hey, I hope you don’t mind,” she says, not taking her eyes away from the cutting board.
How does she know I’m here? I watch her cutting the vegetables meticulously. She has two pots on the stove and a big pan. There’s a large plastic bowl right next to the cutting board she’s using, and I’m intrigued about what she’s cooking.
“You know how to use the knife,” I say, impressed by her skills.
She shrugs. “I took a cooking class or two in San Francisco. Cooking for one and impress your date.”
“Did you impress anyone?”
She laughs. “I’m kidding. Mom taught me how to cook. She taught the five of us.”
“You guys are close?”
“We were closer.”
And while she continues cooking, she tells me more about her family. How even when she had Jeannette, she always tried to play with the boys. “Sometimes, they would play tea with us. Other times we played football with them or whatever sport they were practicing. Even hockey.”
She finishes dicing the onions and pours oil into the pan. “I hope fajitas is okay with you. I debated between that and stir-fry. I decided that eating Mexican food would help us forget the storm at least for a little while.”
“Do you like Mexican food?”
“I love food,” she responds. “I’m better at eating than cooking.”
“Once the storm lets out, I’ll take you to Ene’s, it’s one of the best Mexican restaurants in town,” I announce.
She turns to look at me and her eyes focus on my cheek. She takes the dishtowel, wets it, and cleans my face. “Were you working?”
I nod.
“I like your paintings better than your sculptures.”
“So, you know who I am?”
She shakes her head. “I’ve seen some of your stuff and just googled you while you were working. I had no idea who you were before we … were together, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
I nod, not sure how to explain how bad it can get when I sleep with one of my fans, even more when they have ulterior motives. “Can I help you with anything?”
“Why don’t you change while I finish? I have the feeling that you don’t do this often.”
I’m about to tell her that I cook often but my phone rings. It’s Beckett.
“What’s happening?” I answer right away.
“I ran a thorough background check,” Beck states.
“Of course you did,” I groan and walk away from the kitchen. When I take a look at my clothes, I decide to take a shower. I’m black from the charcoal I used earlier. “Just so you know, she’s not some crazed groupie wanting to steal my underwear or wanting to have my babies.”
“Her family is well off, she owns—”
“Let me stop you there, big guy, I know about her PR company.”
“That she’s selling it?”
I open my mouth and close it intrigued by this piece of information. What are you up to, Juniper Spearman?
People intrigue me. Their behavior holds my attention much longer than a good thriller. June is as complicated as my brother, Wes. The guy who likes to plan every step of his life but when he fucks up, it’s beautiful to see him behave—like the rest of us.
How much of herself is she hiding?
“Do you need anything?”
“Nope,” I answer automatically. “You and your guys should enjoy your day off.”
“I went home, but Clark is in the apartment, in case you need him.”
I own the penthouse and the floor below that has two apartments. One of them has my security system while the other houses my security team.
“Okay,” I say before hanging up.
When I arrive at my room, the bed is made and the flowers I made her are on top of the nightstand. I’m not sure how we’re going to sleep tonight. There’s a guest room but I want her to stay in my bed and how is it possible that the thought doesn’t scare me?
In fact, I think I have at least a couple of aces under my sleeve to make her stay with me for a little longer.
If the storm continues during the weekend, we won’t be able to order her furniture until Monday, maybe Tuesday.
I can invite her to Steamboat afterward.
It’s just what she needs, a trip. It’s not by herself, but if I can just figure out what that list is about, I can try to stay close enough to help her—and to enjoy her.
After I clean up, I head back in the kitchen where I find her setting the table.
“It’s still snowing,” she complains, setting down a bowl with refried beans. I look toward the window, lift a shoulder, and walk to the kitchen. “It’s lovely in here but I feel trapped. I’m not sure if I could adjust to this weather.”
Now, if she asked me how I’d like to spend my blizzard days I’d answer, with you in high heels, a lacy bra, and nothing else. First, I’d take her against the wall or on top of my desk with her legs spread. I could eat her right here in the kitchen.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
I lick my lips and nod.
Nope, I have cabin fever and a hot woman in my house.
“The storm will stop soon, the snow melts fast and in a couple of days it’ll be sunny.” I open the cabinet where I store the tequila and show it to her. “Do you want some?”
She shakes her head. “I’m abstaining.”
“Is that part of your thirty-day project?” I ask, pouring myself a shot.
“No, it’s the yearlong project that comes right after.”
“Are you looking for the meaning of life?” I ask, helping her set up the table.
“No, just doing or learning things that I might not have time to do later,” she responds, deflating a little. “Sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”
“Nah, I think everyone should take the time to find themselves. Some do it before they become adults, others take the step at a later age. There’s no judgment. Actually, I think it’s brave to step out of your comfort zone and change your present. So, any insight on what else is on that list?”
“Thank you, I guess. Get inked, learn to snowboard, binge watch shows I’ve never watched before, find that friend that will stick with me, date someone who’s not my type, write about the good things in life, find those things first.” She tosses her head back and laughs hard.
“Let’s go to Steamboat this week,” I offer.
She bites her lip. “I have a doctor’s appointment on Tuesday. Maybe afterward?”
I tense, my heart speeds up with fear. I ask, “Are you okay?”
“Why?”
“Well, you’re working on a bucket list and going to the doctor. I don’t want to assume but, are you sick?”
“I’m fine. It’s something else,” she whispers. “It’s a long story and I don’t feel comfortable sharing it with you.”
“Fair enough but if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here,” I offer. “I guess, what I want to say is can I help you with the list?”
“Why?”
“Feels like something I can do and why not have that memory.”
“Okay,” she agrees, and I can hear the uncertainty.
“Are you up for the adventure of a lifetime?”
She smiles and nods. June looks so sure of herself, and for the first time, I feel like I have no fucking idea what I’m doing. Seriously, what the fuck am I doing?