She sucked in an audible breath. “You haven’t told him about…”
“Brian,” I finished, hating even the name on my lips.
“It’s early yet; I understand why you haven’t. But with all the press you’ll need to do that soon. And trust that he’ll listen and take care of it.”
“You certainly seem sure of him,” I accused.
“I just have a feeling about you two,” she replied confidently.
“You and your feelings,” I grumbled. Though I had to admit she was almost always right.
“All right, I gotta go. I’m still at work. Call me if you need me. And Ellie, call the man and put him out of his misery.”
“I will,” I agreed.
After hanging up, I moved on autopilot to the corner I’d set up for painting. As my fingers began to move over the canvas, creating bright tones and strong lines, I realized I had two choices: I could call him and tell him I didn’t want to see him again. The very thought made me ill. Or I could deal. My life would change—maybe only temporarily, or maybe to something more permanent—but the truth was that I’d been hiding from real life for far too long, and I knew it. Here was a chance to reach out and grasp it, and I owed it to myself to do just that.
I’d risen to find my phone to do exactly that when my buzzer sounded.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me, can I come up?” Mason’s voice sounded on the other end.
My heart started pounding as it always did when I heard his voice.
“Okay,” I replied, buzzing him up.
I deactivated the alarm and opened the door for him. My heart pounded harder still as I heard his feet on the stairs. When he came into view, it felt as though it would fly right out of my chest. All of the doubt and fear I’d felt disappeared with one look at him.
“Hi,” I said quietly. “Come on in.” I gestured, opening the door wider for him.
“You’re not taking my calls,” he stated bluntly after I’d closed the door. He bent to briefly greet Kodi before turning his full intensity back to me.
“I know, I’m sorry,” I apologized. “It’s been a weird day, and I was kind of freaking out.”
He stepped closer. “What were you freaking out about?” He cupped the sides of my face, tilting my head up to look him in the eye.
“I wasn’t expecting the press,” I admitted quietly as he regarded me. “There are reasons that I’d rather not go into now why it’s not so great for my name to be out there.” I swallowed as his gaze darkened with concern. “But I’m sorry I didn’t take your calls; that wasn’t thoughtful of me. I guess I was just naïve about how famous you are. I hadn’t even heard of you until we met!” I laughed nervously. “Sorry,” I added hastily.
“I don’t care, babe, trust me.”
I nodded, taking a shaky breath. “I was just dealing with the fact that my life will be altered regardless of how long we date,” I explained. “It’s already changed. Everyone at work is staring at me. I have this crazy alarm.” My hand swept toward the panel on the wall. “Which, by the way, you should have talked to me about,” I accused.
“I tried,” he answered immediately. “I called you twice after my PR people let me know about the photos and articles. But you didn’t answer, and I needed to make sure your place was as secure as possible, especially with your name out there.” He rubbed a hand through his buzz cut, visibly stressed. “It was hard for me to not know how you were taking everything,” he admitted. “I knew you were probably freaking out. I wanted to be able to support you,” he said quietly, making my heart lurch. “I know I’m a hell of a lot to take on.”
“Ellie”—he gripped my upper arms gently as he looked down into my eyes—“I want us to figure this out—together. But if you don’t think you can, if you don’t want to,” he looked nearly pained as he continued, “I want to know now. I know we’ve only known each other a short time, but there it is,” he stated unapologetically.
I was shocked and warmed by how confidently he could lay his feelings out on the table like that. I’d been so concerned with my own feelings, I hadn’t stopped to think about his.
I reached a hand up to stroke over the rough whiskers at his jaw. “Walking away doesn’t feel like much of an option,” I admitted, meeting his gaze head-on.
“I’m glad you feel that way,” he replied, his voice an octave lower as he drew me closer still. “It certainly isn’t for me.” He shook his head, dipping down and taking my mouth in a consuming kiss.
How had I even thought for a second I could walk away from this man?
He pulled me closer, his form completely enveloping mine as our tongues dueled and his large hands pulled lightly on my hair.
He pulled back, his breathing heavy as he pressed his forehead to mine. “You been painting?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah, how’d you know?” I asked in confusion.
He smiled tenderly down at me. “Because you have paint in your hair and some right here.” His thumb swept over my cheek.
“Oh,” I answered breathlessly. I couldn’t think when he touched me. It was as though my brain short-circuited.
“You want something to eat? I haven’t gotten around to dinner yet,” I shared.
“Sure,” he agreed as I moved around him to begin rummaging around in the fridge.
“Tacos?” I asked, turning to look at him and catching him staring at my ass.
“Sounds good.” He grinned devilishly.
“You can’t even see my ass in these pants,” I admonished him with a grin. I was surprised I wasn’t embarrassed for him to see me in my grubby painting clothes.
“Oh, I can see it,” he assured me with a grin. “What can I help with?”
“You can pour me another glass of wine and get yourself something also, if you’d like,” I answered with a smile. “My glass is over in my painting corner.” I gestured toward the back corner of the loft where he had yet to venture.
“I can do that.” He nodded, standing to go retrieve my glass.
When he returned, glass in hand, he looked at me with an unfathomable expression on his face.
“What is it?” I asked, suddenly on edge.
“I’m trying to find the words to convey how amazing you are,” he floored me by responding. “Those paintings are incredible, Ellie. You have real talent.”
“Thanks,” I murmured, my face hot with the blush I knew was reddening my cheeks.
“Why do you look so shy?” he asked gently, his gaze soft.
“I just don’t typically show them to people. I guess I’m not used to it.”
He stroked his thumb over my jaw. “Well, I guess then I get to be your number-one fan.” He smiled. “Now, let’s get you that wine,” he added, moving toward the fridge.
He refilled my glass and then moved to sit at the bar while I chopped vegetables.
When my dad called for a second time a moment later, I looked to Mason apologetically. “I’m going to make sure everything is okay. Hi, Pop,” I greeted, cradling the phone in my neck as I continued to chop.