Page 25

FOURTEEN

AUDREY

The rest of the weekend goes by in a blur. Every hour feels both endless and far too short, time bending around us like we exist in our own private universe.

We make love on every surface of his cabin. Slow and tender in the morning. Wild and claiming against the kitchen counter after lunch. He feeds me strawberries in bed, and I paint his portrait while he reads, both of us naked and completely at ease in a way I’ve never experienced before.

But Sunday morning arrives with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer, and before I know it, it’s time to leave.

I’ve been in the studio since sunrise, trying to capture the view from the north window. It’s my third painting of the weekend. I know it’s my attempt to hold onto this feeling, to create something tangible I can take with me when I have to leave.

“Almost ready to go, baby?” Reign’s voice comes from behind me.

I don’t turn around immediately. Instead, I add one last stroke of gold to the mountain peak. “Yep, just finishing this.”

His arms slide around my waist from behind, pulling me back against his chest. He’s already dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, ready to drive me back to the resort. I can feel the solid warmth of him, smell the familiar scent of cedar and coffee that clings to his skin.

“Let me see.” He turns me in his arms, both of us looking at the canvas.

The painting is good, better than anything I’ve done in years. The mountains seem to glow with their own inner light, and there’s something wild and free about the brushstrokes that mirrors how I feel when I’m here with him.

“It’s beautiful.” He presses a kiss to my temple. Then he reaches over and picks up a flyer from the small stack of papers on the worktable. “What’s this?”

I glance at what he’s holding, and my stomach drops. It’s the competition announcement I printed out weeks ago and forgot about. “Oh, that’s nothing. Just something I saw online.”

“San Diego Contemporary Art Competition, huh?” He studies the flyer more carefully, his eyes scanning the details. “And first place gets a solo exhibition and ten thousand dollars.” His gaze shifts to me. “This looks like something.”

Heat creeps up my neck. “I was just... I thought maybe I could enter some of the paintings from this weekend. But it’s probably stupid.”

“Stupid?” His eyebrows raise. “Baby, your work is incredible. Why wouldn’t you enter?”

I shrug, suddenly feeling exposed in a way that has nothing to do with being naked. “I’ve never actually won anything before. And the competition is pretty prestigious. Real artists enter that kind of thing.”

“You are a real artist.” His voice is firm, brooking no argument. “Look at what you’ve created this weekend. Look at this painting right here. It’s fucking magnificent.”

“Reign—”

“No, listen to me.” He sets the flyer down and cups my face in his hands. “I’ve seen the way you come alive when you paint. The way your whole face changes when you’re creating something. That’s not a hobby, Audrey. That’s who you are.”

My throat tightens with emotion. “But what if I’m not good enough? What if I embarrass myself?”

“Then you try again. And again. Until you are good enough.” His thumbs stroke across my cheekbones. “But I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. I think you’re going to blow them away.”

“Yeah, well, the deadline is tomorrow.” I sigh, already feeling the familiar weight of missed opportunities settling over me. “It’s probably too late. Maybe next time.”

Reign gives me a long look, those piercing blue eyes studying my face. “Are you sure?”

I nod, even though something inside me rebels against the easy surrender. “Yes. I’ll enter the next one.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t push, but I catch something flickering across his expression before he nods. “Then we should get ready to leave.”

As we start gathering my things, a strange melancholy settles over me. I fold my clothes slowly, trying to delay the inevitable return to my real life. Every item I pack feels like I’m putting away pieces of myself, tucking the woman I am here back into hiding.

Reign watches me from the doorway, and I can feel his eyes tracking my movements. “What’s wrong?”

I pause with a nightgown half-folded in my hands. The question opens something raw inside me, and before I can stop myself, the words tumble out.

“I never want this to end.” My voice cracks slightly. “This weekend, this feeling, being here with you. I know I have to go back, but God, Reign, I don’t want to. I want to stay in this bubble forever where I can paint and be myself?—”

He steps to me gently, pulling me into his arms before I can finish the thought. His hand slides into my hair, tilting my face up to meet his gaze.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Look at me, baby.”

I do, even though my eyes are burning with unshed tears.

“This isn’t ending. What we have, what you’ve found here, this is just the beginning.” His voice carries that familiar certainty that makes me want to believe impossible things. “You think I built you a studio just for one weekend?”

“What do you mean, soon?” I ask him.

“Just what I said. I have a plan, Audrey.”

“What kind of plan?”

“The kind that gets you out of that engagement. Permanently.”

His tone doesn’t waver, not even on the word that should scare both of us most. “I know you don’t want to hurt your family, and I’d never let you go through this alone.

But I can’t let you marry him. You know I can’t.

” His hands are steady on my hips, pulling me closer, anchoring me when the ground beneath us feels suddenly unstable.

“I can’t tell you all the details right now, but I need you to trust me. When I tell you it’s time to go, I want you to come with me. No questions, no hesitation. Can you do that?”

I stare back at him, blinking hard, the cabin’s golden morning light dissolving into a haze around his face.

Permanently. That word ricochets through my head, catching on everything brittle and breakable inside me. I almost laugh, except I know he’s deadly serious. He’s making a promise, one so absolute it scares me more than Gio ever has.

I try to process it. And process him. For all the wild, reckless things Reign has done to me this weekend, for how completely he’s broken down every barrier I had, this is the first time he’s truly terrified me.

Not because I don’t believe him, but because I do.

He means it. I see it in the way his jaw flexes, in the stubborn set of his mouth, in the steady, unshakable blue of his eyes.

He’s already decided. My opinion is the only thing left.

I stare up at him, seeing the absolute conviction in his blue eyes. Part of me wants to say yes immediately, to throw caution to the wind and follow him anywhere. But the practical part of my brain, the part shaped by years of Worthington expectations, holds me back.

“My family,” I start, thinking of my Lucille’s face when she realizes I’m gone. Of the scandal it would cause. Of my father’s memory and everything he built. “The business, the merger?—”

“Will all work out exactly as it should,” he cuts me off gently. “But not the way Lucille planned. Trust me, baby. Have I ever lied to you?”

I search his face, remembering how he’s kept every promise he’s made so far. How he found me when I thought I’d never see him again. How he built me this studio based on nothing but faith that I’d return to him.

“No,” I admit. “You haven’t.”

“Then promise me you’ll think about it. Really think about it.

Not about what everyone else expects, but about what you want.

What makes you happy.” I take a shaky breath, overwhelmed by the possibility he’s offering.

A life where I could paint every morning.

Where I could wake up in his arms every day instead of counting stolen moments.

“I’ll think about it,” I promise.

A slow grin spreads across his face, transforming his features from intense to devastating. “That’s progress. You didn’t say no.”

Before I can respond, he’s kissing me, deep and claiming and desperate. I melt into him, my hands fisting in his shirt as I try to memorize the taste of him, the feel of his mouth moving against mine.

“Come on,” he says roughly, resting his forehead against mine. “Before I decide to keep you here anyway.”

The drive back to Fit Mountain Resort passes too quickly, both of us lost in our own thoughts.

He holds my hand the entire way, his thumb tracing patterns on my skin like he’s trying to memorize the feel of me, too.

When we pull into the parking lot where my car waits, the sight of it feels like a physical blow.

“Whatever you decide,” he says quietly, “know that this weekend meant everything to me. You mean everything to me.”

The words are beautiful and devastating at the same time. Before I can respond, he’s out of the truck and coming around to my side. He helps me out, then backs me against my car, his body caging mine.

“One more,” he murmurs, and then his mouth is on mine.

This kiss is different from all the others. It’s desperate and claiming, like he’s trying to pour every emotion he can’t say into the contact. I kiss him back just as fiercely, my hands fisting in his shirt as I try to memorize the taste of him, the feel of his lips against mine.

He steps back, giving me space to get in my car.

I slide behind the wheel with shaking hands, starting the engine on autopilot.

Through the windshield, I watch him climb back into his truck.

He waits until I pull out of the parking space before following me to the main road, where he turns left toward the mountains while I turn right toward Cooper Heights.

As I drive away, I catch sight of him in my rearview mirror, standing beside his truck with his hands in his pockets, watching me leave. The image burns itself into my memory. He’s my mountain man, patient and powerful, and he is completely certain that I’ll come back to him.