Country Roads (48 page)

Carlos cupped her face between his hands. “You are a good girl,
mi querida
. And a great artist, of course,” he added with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Mr. Castillo, a pleasure to see you,” Claire said, offering her hand to Carlos. Julia watched in amusement as he raised it to his lips and Claire looked coy. She recovered quickly, saying to Julia, “Paxton Hayes just arrived. He’s in the circle of
Night Mares
now.”

Julia tried to peer through the crowd. “Does he look like his blog photo?”

“If you add ten years and glasses,” Claire said. “He’s very tall and thin.”

“Let me guess. He’s wearing black,” Julia said.

“He’d be drummed out of the society of New York art critics if he wasn’t. Ah, there he is, headed for Darkside’s portrait. Might as well go hear his verdict.” Claire headed toward the scarecrow of a man standing in front of the single painting.

Julia followed, running through the possible scenarios she and Claire had discussed. Neither one of them expected Hayes to
tell them what he really thought, but Claire wanted to feed him certain information and hope it made its way into his blog.

Just before they reached him, Claire halted and put her mouth next to Julia’s ear. “You should know that three of your paintings have sold already. I’m reserving one for Tim now that everyone else has had their chance to make an offer. And several people have given Belle sealed bids for the auction of Darkside’s portrait tomorrow night.”

Elation flared, temporarily banishing the misery of Paul’s absence. She savored the knowledge that her crazy last-ditch pilgrimage to Sanctuary had been justified. She pumped her fist.

Claire’s musical laugh rang out. “Exactly.”

The sound brought Paxton Hayes’s head around, and Claire put her hand on Julia’s back to move her toward the critic. “Paxton, you and Julia have already met by telephone, so you don’t really need an introduction.”

“Still, it is an honor to shake such a talented hand,” Paxton said, surprising Julia with a firm, warm grip.

“Thank you for traveling here on such short notice,” Julia said.

“So, I have to ask,” he said, “are all of these paintings the same horse?”

“Yes and no.” Claire had predicted this question and told her to be honest, even if it sounded farfetched.

He raised an eyebrow.

“The horse in the
Night Mares
came from in here.” She tapped her temple and wished she hadn’t, as it set her headache throbbing harder. “It kept coming at me and coming at me, so I kept painting it. Then I came here and found my
Night Mare
in the flesh. Turns out he’s a stallion, but
Night Stud
didn’t sound quite right.”

Hayes’s lips thinned into an almost smile. He nodded toward Darkside. “So this is the real horse.”

“Up close and personal.”

“Interesting story,” he murmured, his eyes on the portrait. “The
Night Mares
are all about power and fear. This one is subtle.” He turned back to Julia. “Quite a range.”

“Thank you,” she said, although she wasn’t clear if it was a compliment or not.

A rise in the volume of conversation made all three of them glance toward the front of the room. Julia gasped when she saw Paul cleaving through the crowd, headed straight toward her. As he passed, people looked him up and down and turned back to their companions to comment. She understood their agitation because he was dressed in his leather motorcycle jacket, faded jeans, and heavy black boots. He carried two helmets and another leather jacket. He paid no attention to the disturbance behind him, his eyes never leaving her face.

The room tilted, and the voices faded to a murmur. She fought against it, locking her gaze on Paul like a lifeline, but she felt her knees begin to buckle as blackness closed over her.

Paul shoved a tall, thin man out of the way and caught Julia just before her head would have banged onto the floor.

“Julia!” Carlos pushed through the crowd and knelt on the other side of his niece’s limp body. He tried to take her out of Paul’s arms, but the younger man held on as he lowered her gently to the floor. Carlos pushed at his hands, saying, “She has—”

“Fainted,” Paul interrupted, giving Carlos a level stare before he lifted Julia’s head and slipped the folded leather jacket under it.

“No, she’s having a—”

“Spell of low blood sugar.” Paul stopped him again, this time with a scowl.

Carlos met Paul’s gaze before he nodded, having received the message at last. “It is best if you put her on her side.”

Paul eased her over, making sure her arms and legs were in comfortable positions.

Carlos fell silent and sat back on his heels, while Claire knelt to help Paul unhook the heavy necklace from around Julia’s throat.

“I don’t think she ate anything today,” Claire murmured. “She said her stomach was upset. And she’s been working late to finish the painting of Darkside.”

Carlos tsked. “She knows she has to take care of herself.”

“You can’t trust these artistic types to remember to keep a normal schedule,” Paul said, casting a fierce glare at Julia’s uncle to make sure he stayed silent about Julia’s secret. He pulled the chopsticks out of Julia’s bun and loosened it, his fingers gently stroking the silk of her hair.

Claire stood to shoo away the guests who had gathered around Julia’s limp form, assuring them, “She’ll be fine. In the excitement of getting ready for tonight she forgot to eat.”

Paul watched for the expansion and contraction of Julia’s chest as he laid his fingers over the pulse on her wrist. It was regular, if not strong. She wasn’t convulsing or having muscle spasms. All he could do was wait and wonder if it was a bad omen that she had blacked out at the sight of him.

It seemed like an eternity, but according to his watch, it was only a minute and forty-five seconds before her eyelids fluttered open. She blinked several times and turned her head to look up at him. “You came.” She frowned. “But why are you dressed like that?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just lie still.” He beckoned to the tall man he’d nearly knocked down. “Could you ask one of the servers for some orange juice?”

“Julia, how do you feel?” Carlos asked.

“Like an idiot,” she said. “It’s not what you think, Tío. I should have eaten something.”

“You don’t know that,” her uncle said.

“If she says she fainted from hunger, that’s what happened,” Paul said. “She’s been standing up all night too.” Not that he was entirely convinced, but he had to trust Julia to know her own body.

A young woman appeared with a glass of orange juice on a silver tray. Paul helped Julia into a sitting position and held the glass to her lips. She took the glass out of his hand and drank several swallows. Her stomach growled so loudly she clamped her free hand over it.

Paul gave her a smile. “Keep drinking.”

She gulped down the rest of the juice, and he was relieved to see color returning to her cheeks. Carlos must have felt the same way, because he nodded to Paul.

“Is she going to be all right?” the tall man leaned down to ask.

“As soon as we get some food in her.”

The man straightened and turned away, saying, “Interesting company she keeps.”

Carlos coughed.

“I’m going to take you back to the office,” Paul said, removing the glass from Julia’s hand. “Mr. Castillo, will you round up some food?”

Julia tried to get her feet under her, but Paul slipped one arm behind her knees and surged upward with her in his arms. She squawked and squirmed. “I can walk.”

“Maybe, but this is safer. Hold still.”

Having her warm body pressed against him and her hair spilling over his arm made him want to walk out the back door and keep going. As he turned them both sideways through the doorway to the office, he allowed himself to lower his lips to
the top of her head, brushing the waves lightly and inhaling the exquisite scent of her. An overlay of exotic perfume, an undernote of turpentine, and just Julia. To think, a few hours ago he’d believed he’d never get to touch her again.

He laid her on the couch, propping a pillow under her head before he sat down beside her.

She grabbed his jacket and pulled herself up to a sitting position facing him. “Why are you wearing those clothes?”

Julia waited, wishing her head wasn’t pounding in rhythm with her heartbeat.

“I came to take you on a motorcycle ride.” He was smiling at her in a strange way.

“You donated your motorcycle to the gala.”

“I bought it back.”

“Why?” She was hoping against hope.

He picked up a strand of her hair and wrapped it around his finger. “Remember you told me Darkside could change? And my brother could change? Well, I needed the motorcycle to convince you I could change.”

The door opened to admit Claire and Carlos, laden down with plates and glasses of juice. Julia growled in frustration. Paul winked and gave her hair one of the teasing tugs she loved so much. He let them fuss over her for a minute and then firmly ushered them back out, saying she would eat better with less distraction.

“I’m not eating until you finish,” she said, as he picked up a plate piled with hors d’oeuvres and brought it over to her.

“Okay,” he said, sitting down beside her and putting the plate on the end table. Her astonishment must have shown on her face because he said, “You see, I’ve changed.”

She was going to explode if he didn’t tell her what she wanted to hear. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and shook them, making the leather creak. “Get to the point.”

His half smile evaporated, and she wondered if her hope was misplaced. She felt better when he took her hand and laced their fingers together.

“You told me I had to give Darkside and my brother a chance to be better people, or horses…you know what I mean.”

There was no sign of the smooth-talking former mayor now.

“I watched you ride that stallion and it took my breath away. You’d transformed him into the horse”—he shot her a humorous look—“he was meant to be. When he threw you, it felt like a betrayal of all that trust you’d given him.”

“He didn’t throw me. I fell off.”

He took a deep breath. “Right. He shied like any horse would. He wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

She nodded and squeezed his hand in approval. He looked at her, his face tight with the strain of whatever emotions he was reining in. “Today Eric ended up in the emergency room because he tangled with a swarm of bees and got multiple stings.”

“Oh no!” she gasped. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. Just itchy,” he added with a reminiscent smile. “Terri called me to ride to the rescue, but when I got there, Jimmy had already handled it. Better than I could, because he’d taken a first-aid course before their last camping trip. I’m not saying he doesn’t have serious issues to deal with, but he’s got a powerful reason to fix them. I’m just in the way.”

Julia touched his cheek. “Never.”

He turned his head to kiss her palm. “There are still some things to work out, but my brother doesn’t need a keeper anymore.”

Her heart leaped, but he didn’t pull her into his arms and declare his undying love.

“I was a real asshole yesterday,” he said, “and I owe you an apology…”

“I’m not interested in apologies,” she said.

“But—”

“Maybe later.”

He sat silent a moment before saying, “I brought the bike to prove I was done trying to make your decisions for you. If you say you’re cured of the epilepsy, then we’re going out on the hog. If you think that devil horse will let you control him, then I’ll pick you up when you fall off.”

He stopped and scanned her face, his silver-gray eyes dark with uncertainty. “And if you’re crazy enough to want to stay here in Sanctuary with me, then I hope like hell you’ll do it. Because if you don’t, I’m going to camp out on your doorstep in North Carolina until you change your mind.”

Now he pulled her into his arms, crushing her against him and murmuring into her hair, “I love you so much it nearly rips my heart out. Give me a second chance.”

Love and relief and exhaustion sent cascades of tears down her cheeks, and she burrowed into him. “I’ll give you all the chances you want,” she said, slipping her arms underneath his jacket so she could feel the heat of his body.