Giving It Up: Pushing the Boundaries, Book 1 (18 page)

Luckily, Warren seemed to see her distress, because he joined them at the table and told Nathan, “Everyone likes Beatrice’s pictures.”

“Especially you, Uncle Quinn,” Nathan replied, laughing, and Warren gave him a slight shake of the head. A silencing motion.

Again with the strange censure. What was that about?

Nathan rushed through his cereal and Warren let him run upstairs to get dressed, and by seven thirty, they were outside, Beatrice showing Nathan the basics of operating her Nikon. Warren hung out in the background, but she noticed his hands involuntarily tensing every time Nathan fumbled the equipment.

Beatrice reached out and touched his hip, a reassuring gesture, and Warren came closer, dropping a kiss on her shoulder. The boy grinned, pointing the camera up at them a second before the shutter clicked, and belatedly, Beatrice pulled away from Warren. When she’d been on the receiving end of that lens while thinking about Warren, she’d felt fine. But
with
Warren?

Suddenly, her hands were shaking.

She leaned over and pressed a couple of buttons on the back of the camera, ostensibly to demonstrate some of the settings to Nathan, but really to get some distance between her and Warren.

“Here, take a look at this. The white balance is important when you’re taking pictures of things that are white. I saw you practicing at the cages. You’re really good. Do you also play on a baseball team?”

“Yeah. The Rockets. We’re pretty good. Three for three so far this season.”

“Nice. What color are your uniforms?”

“White with red letters.”

“Well, the white balance function would really come in handy when photographing you in your uniform to make sure it doesn’t disappear into a big blob of white.”

“Huh, that’s cool. You know a lot about this stuff. Maybe you can come take pictures of my team someday.”

Before she could answer, she heard the back door open and looked up to see an older woman wearing a thick robe and slippers, standing on the landing. “Good morning,” the woman called, but quietly, mindful of the stillness of an early Sunday morning.

Warren raised a hand. “Morning, Mom. This is Beatrice. She’s teaching Nathan how to take photos.”

“Nice to meet you,” Beatrice said, smiling and waving.

Mrs. Davis smiled back. “Hi, Beatrice. I saw you at Ben’s wedding. I’m glad to have an opportunity to meet you again. But first, I’ll go change quickly and come out again.”

Warren waved his hand. “It’s okay, we’ll head in for a bit. We’ll be there by the time you’re changed.”

Warren’s mom nodded and slipped back inside, and Warren turned to Nate. “Hey, man. Go on in and wash up. Beatrice and I will follow you in a second.”

Nathan immediately obeyed.

“He really looks up to you,” she remarked, watching him walk away.

Warren shrugged. “I’m the only dad the kid has ever known.”

As soon as Nathan disappeared into the house, Warren pulled Beatrice to him and kissed her, long and deep. She could feel his arousal rising between them, which made her hum in satisfaction.

The door swung open again, and they jumped apart, but Warren kept one arm around Beatrice, holding her next to him.

“You guys coming?” Nate called.

Warren sighed. She could feel his reluctance as well as the tension in his muscles, like he was eager to spring to the rescue.

But he simply nodded, and before they walked back inside, he kissed her again. She couldn’t help but think it meant something.

* * * * *

Beatrice was the most amazing woman he’d ever known.

It was nearly two o’clock, and they had all finished eating the lunch she had helped Warren make. For the first time in years, he had someone working alongside him who hadn’t been helping out of agonizing obligation, traded off between the adults of the household and only out of necessity. Having her next to him, humming and occasionally pausing to look at him with a smile, or to laugh at something Nathan was saying, was like stepping into a completely different life.

A happy life.

He tried not to think about it too much, though. No use dreaming about what he couldn’t have. It was fun for a day, but if Beatrice had to do this all the time, just to get time with him? It would get old, fast. Like it had for Jen.

“That was a lovely meal,” Dad said again, smiling at Beatrice as Mom nodded in agreement. “And you make a lovely addition to our family.”

Warren scowled at his father. “Dad.”

“What? She is beautiful. And talented and nice and a good girl, clearly.”

Nice and good? Warren had to force his thoughts away from an image of Beatrice, clad in leather and fishnets, before he scooped her up and ran out the door and back to her apartment. Talented, definitely. He’d had a hard time keeping his hands off of her all day, even though he hadn’t been able to resist a few kisses. But he’d wanted to take her upstairs to his boyhood room, uncomfortable bed be damned, and push into her over and over, making their bodies slap together in a way that would tell her how much he
liked
her.

Warren snorted at the thought, and Mom raised an eyebrow. What? Why—oh shit. His eyes were probably glazed over from the images that had rocketed through his mind. He felt a blush on his cheeks and forced himself to calm down.

“She is all of those things, Dad. I don’t disagree. I’m just saying maybe it’s a bit much…”

Beatrice laughed. “I am sitting right here, you know.” Then she sighed and pushed back from the table. “Actually, I
shouldn’t
be sitting here. I have a few things to catch up on before work tomorrow. I’d better head out.” She picked up her plate and brought it to the sink and started washing it, but Warren stood up and stopped her.

“Leave it, really. You’ve already done so much around here today.”

She looked up at him and sighed, and for a moment he thought about kissing her, but there was no way with everyone staring at them.

“It was so lovely to meet all of you.” She smiled and nodded at each one in turn, and he didn’t miss how they all beamed back at her.

The idea that they liked her as much as he did made him surly, for some perverse reason. It felt like a burden, to have brought something good into their lives knowing he would only have to take it away eventually. He hated that it felt that way for him too.

“I’ll drive you home,” he barked, feeling the anger coming out.

She gave him a funny look, but her hand reached over and took his gently, her fingertips squeezing his in a gesture of reassurance, and it was all he needed to feel the weight on his chest lift.

She shook her head. “That’s okay, I don’t mind taking the bus. I can get a few things done there, anyway, and it helps if I can get into picture-taking mindset.”

He hesitated, but didn’t push her too much. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. I do it all the time.”

“Okay, then. I’ll walk you to the bus stop, at least.”

“Okay.”

They smiled at each other for a long moment, until Dad cleared his throat and Warren realized how sappy they must look. Great. He’d never hear the end of it now.

After a quick round of goodbyes, they stepped out of the house, walking up the street toward the bus stop on the main avenue near the house. A block away, he pulled her aside and kissed her, hot and heavy. “God, you’re sexy. I’d take you on the sidewalk if I weren’t worried about pavement burns.”

She laughed against his lips. “And public indecency charges.”

“I’ll say I was protecting you,” he growled, but the words reminded him he needed to stop thinking about himself and settle something important. He pulled back. “We need to talk about the money.”

She frowned. “Now? I told you I don’t want it. We should have talked about it before, but in the end, the money isn’t important, so let’s…let’s forget about it, okay? I’ve got some freelance work coming up and I can still get the bill paid. It’ll just take a little bit longer. A month or two won’t matter at this point.”

How could she give herself to him like that, knowing she’d get nothing in return? Worse than nothing. It meant giving up even more of her free time to earning money when she should be trying to get into a museum or a gallery or something. That’s what she deserved. Not to give herself away for free to some schmuck like him.

“I owe you something, at least. You were counting on this. It feels wrong to pay you for what we’ve done, you know? I mean, I feel great about it, and last night was, wow. But—”

“I
don’t want
your money, Warren.” She sighed. “I want
you
. I thought about it and I realized you might not be ready to accept it, but I want you to know that I mean it in every way. Not just your body. I. Want.
You
. I—”

“No, you don’t.” He interrupted her, not wanting to risk being convinced. This day had been too good. It had been too tempting. A guy could get used to this kind of life. And when it all fell apart, how would he go on?

How could she say that she wanted him in every way, even after seeing how involved he was with his family? How into each other’s lives they were? Jen had hated that.

No. God, no. Beatrice couldn’t mean it. If he believed her and gave this a chance, it would end badly.

Shit. He had a feeling it would end badly, anyway. But he needed to at least try to salvage something. “I really appreciate that you’re trying to make me feel better. It is what I needed. You have no idea how much. But this—” he swept his hand out between them, “—is only temporary.”

“Only temporary?” Beatrice’s brow furrowed, and then she shook her head. “Do you
still
really believe that?”

Her eyes widened when he nodded in reply, and he could see she was growing more agitated, her face screwing up in confusion and anger both.

“What was today, then? An accident? Are you really going to show up next Wednesday and pretend that my meeting your parents and your nephew
never happened
? You keep telling me you don’t have time, but we’ve spent more time together today than I have
in total
with any other guy in the past four years.” She stopped, eyeing him with the horror of a sudden, unpleasant realization. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

He could feel his face moving, turning down, back into that scowl that was so familiar it was practically something he put on every day with his uniform. But it felt foreign, somehow, to respond this way to
her
.

Her own face crumpled at the sight. “Oh God. I can’t do this anymore, Warren. I thought today
meant
something. I’d convinced myself I just needed to look at it from a different perspective or take a different approach. I thought—” She let out a disbelieving huff. “Of course, I thought sleeping with you would mean something too. I’m such an idiot,” she added in a small voice.

No, don’t feel that way.
He wasn’t trying to cheapen what they’d done last night. If anything, it had been the greatest sex—the greatest experience—of his life. But he couldn’t—

“Just go, Warren.” She turned away from him. “Leave me alone. Our agreement is over. I don’t want to see you again.”

He nearly pleaded with her. But what did he have to offer? An hour on Wednesdays and Sunday mornings with an entire squadron of Davis family members? He could hear Jen’s words in his ear.
I want to marry you, not your family…won’t spend the rest of my life being fifth best.

She started walking away, down the street toward the bus stop, but he didn’t follow her, just stood there staring, even when she had reached the stop and still wouldn’t look at him, hugging herself as she waited. And when the bus pulled up and she got on, he still didn’t walk away for a long time.

Chapter Twenty

“Beatrice! What are you doing here? Come in and tell me what’s going on.”

My heart is breaking and I don’t know how to stop it.

But Beatrice didn’t say the words, just shook her head at Nana as she crossed over the threshold. Nana wheeled back from the door and looked up at Beatrice with concern. “You look like you lost your best friend. Or your camera,” she added, with a sympathetic smile.

My best friend
. But surely she didn’t feel that strongly for Warren—did she? The man who could look at her photos and understand he was looking at her. The man who made her feel welcome in his life and appreciated her for who she really was. The man who could kiss her with the greatest passion she’d felt in her life, or make her want him with a simple smile, or throw his body atop hers to protect her from danger…

No. Not just her best friend. The man she loved.

Who was too afraid to love her back.

She’d thought things would be different. She’d thought they’d had a chance, once she’d realized what she’d been missing in herself. She’d thought that stepping outside of those Wednesday night expectations would help him see how well they fit in real life. And last night, when he’d been inside of her, it had felt so right, as though as long as they were together, they could get through
anything
.

Except they weren’t together.

“Oh, Nana,” whispered Beatrice, and her grandmother wheeled her chair close, wrapping her arms around Beatrice’s waist in a gesture that should have felt awkward, but instead was exactly the kind of comfort she needed.

“What happened, sweet Bebe?” Nana asked gently.

“I won’t be able to pay off your bill this month!” It wasn’t what she’d meant to say, but somehow that’s what had come out of her mouth. Because, oh goodness. How could she tell Nana the truth? That she had gotten involved with a man for money, no matter what the reason, and had ended up falling in love with him, only to be rejected?

Nana would be horrified.

“You’re disappointed over a
payment
?” Nana gave her an arch look. “Not that I don’t appreciate it. But I have to admit I’m a little surprised, since I thought all this unhappiness was over that man whose photo was in the papers a few days ago. The photo
you
took.”

Beatrice squeaked. “You know about Warren?”

Nana dropped her arms and wheeled backward, maneuvering around Beatrice toward the kitchen. “Come on, Bebe. Let’s go talk over tea and muffins.”

Beatrice followed, dumbfounded. She hadn’t said a word to Nana about Warren. How could her grandmother know? Lost in wonder, she went through the motions of filling the teapot almost mechanically, pulling out teabags and mugs and popping the muffins that Nana kept in the refrigerator into the toaster oven.

“Your photos speak volumes, you know,” Nana said, leaning her arms on the table as she spoke. “I’ve been trying to get you to see that for so long. Each one of them is a work of art. And even so, I’ve never seen so much of you in any of your work as what I saw in your image of that man.”

Beatrice closed her eyes and remembered the way she’d felt when she’d taken the picture, how she had focused on Warren, a lone figure in front of a destroyed building, looking exactly like who he was. Determined. Commanding.
Alone
. So alone. She had done nothing but
feel
in the moment she’d taken the picture, not even bothering to check the lighting or to center the image. She’d simply poured herself into the moment and let her love be her guide.

Nana had seen that in the photo. While Warren still couldn’t accept it.

At the thought, her face crumpled, and she had to wipe the tears from her eyes before she looked over at Nana watching her with an understanding that made Beatrice ashamed for not having shared what was happening with Nana before now.

“Forget the tea, Beatrice. Come sit down and tell me what happened.”

Nana would make a great Dominatrix
, she couldn’t help but think, as she crossed the small kitchen and pulled out a chair, sinking heavily onto the hard seat. The thought made her smile, and Nana clucked in approval. “That’s my girl. You were always a tough little thing.”

Dennis had said the same thing. She’d believed it, there, for a short time. Before she’d lost Warren for good.

“No, I’m not tough at all,” Beatrice whispered, and then confessed everything to her grandmother, from the moment she’d come across Warren in that darkened hotel hallway to the way they’d parted not an hour before.

When she finished a long time later, she sighed, drying tears she hadn’t even realized she’d been crying. “I’m so sorry, Nana.” She bit back a sob, drawing a deep breath. “I hadn’t meant to come here and burden you with all of this. I just—”

“No, Beatrice,” Nana interrupted. “You’re not ‘just’ doing anything. You’re hurting. You’re feeling. You’re
living
. And I’m glad you came to me, because I want to be sure you understand that things might be hard now, but they’ll get better. I promise you they’ll get better.”

“But he doesn’t want me.”

“Then he’s a fool. But I’m so proud of you for taking a chance and putting yourself out there. You made a choice to see yourself differently, and that matters. I know it feels wrong right now, but don’t let this turn you off of continuing to really live, Bebe. To give yourself fully and completely into your own life. Don’t go back to being the person that your parents tried so hard to turn you into.”

Give it up.
The very thing she’d been trying to help Warren do these past few weeks, and she’d ended up surrendering her own heart in the process. And now Nana was telling her to move on with her life, to continue giving herself fully and completely.

But what if she had nothing left to give?

* * * * *

Beatrice wrung her hands in her lap as she watched Tenny, the owner of the most prestigious gallery in Greenbriar, flip through her portfolio. On the way home from Nana’s the day before, she had thought about what her grandmother had said. Despite what had happened with Warren, she had to admit it felt good to go after what she wanted, wholeheartedly.

Even if it meant she didn’t get it.

She might not have gotten Warren, and she was still dealing with that. But she had decided she’d wasted enough time and put up enough excuses about trying to get her work into a gallery. She’d been hiding against the fear of rejection for too long, insisting her work wasn’t ready yet, but Warren had been right.

It had been she who hadn’t been ready.

Besides, rejection from anyone else didn’t seem to feel as important anymore. It might still sting a bit, but if a gallery told her no, it would be nothing compared to the pain of having Warren shut her out of his life. She’d decided to start at the top, and as soon as she’d gotten back to her apartment from her Nana’s, she’d emailed Tenny and asked if he’d be interested in considering her photos for a show.

He’d emailed back first thing the next morning with a simple yes, and a request to meet that evening. She’d come there directly after work, clutching the black canvas portfolio with her best shots inside.

The photo of her college. Children playing in the park. Nana.

Warren standing alone in front of the backdrop of the school and a bright blue sky.

Tenny flipped over the last photo and looked up with a strange expression on his face.
Oh dear.
Was he about to tell her no?

Calm down. Be in control. Be confident about what you want. Own your life.

He laced his fingers together atop the table where they were sitting and leaned forward. “I would love to have your work in my gallery.”

It came out so casually she almost didn’t register what he was saying. It took a few seconds for the meaning to kick in, and then she blinked. “You-you would?” She grinned, shaking her head. “I mean, thank you!”

The excitement was exploding in her now, making her shake in her seat, which Tenny must have seen, because he got up and walked around the table, holding out his arms for a hug. She’d only met him an hour ago, but this definitely felt like a hugging occasion. She squealed into the embrace, and he pulled away, grinning. “I’m glad you seem to be as excited about showing here as I am about having you.”

He was excited?
Really?

Tenny leaned against the table, still smiling. “To be completely honest, I’ve been following your work for some time, but only through the paper. I’ve been meaning to reach out to you, to see if you had any aspiration to show artistically as well. So when I got your email this morning, I had pretty much already made up my mind. You have an incredible gift. Your photos, the composition, the emotions…” He dipped his head at her in a small bow. “You are clearly in control.”

You don’t know the half of it.