Stubborn Love (5 page)

“No!” I quickly replied. I wanted nothing from the king of one-night stands. The idea of even living in an apartment he owned kind of made my skin crawl. “I can work at our apartment, or there’s studio space at school I can reserve.”

“All right,” Paige said, flopping back into her chair and shrugging. “Just an idea.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” I said, pushing my lips together into a half-hearted smile.

“When did you plan to move in?” Paige asked looking out the large glass window, watching the people walking by on the street.

“I don’t have much stuff, it’s all back at the motel. If it’s all right, I can go get it now and be moved in tonight,” I offered, hoping the aggressive move in schedule wouldn’t be a problem.

“Awesome!” Paige said. “And actually, Bailey was paid up through the end of the month so don’t worry about paying until September first.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, shocked by her generosity.

“Yeah, it’s not a problem. I guess I can call you Emmie now.” Paige gave me a grin, a red curl hanging over one eye. I remembered the cab ride and the comment she had made about us being strangers. There was that wit again.

I pulled the phone away from my ear for a moment as I slipped my shirt over my head. “Yes, Mom, I’m sure everything will be fine.”

“I mean it, Emmie, you don’t know these people. How do you know this Paige girl isn’t into drugs or something worse?” my mother’s soft voice queried.

“Seriously? Did you just ask me that?” I chuckled, throwing my bag, which was heavily weighted with fresh art supplies, over my shoulder, and rushing out the door. Pulling it shut as I left, I dropped my keys into the pocket of the shirt Paige had let me borrow. She apparently felt my wardrobe was unfit for such a momentous occasion as the first day of classes. I had to leave it unbuttoned to account for the fact that my breasts were at least three times larger than hers. She offered to let me wear one of her tanks that had a slit down the middle of the chest, but I assured her my undershirt would suffice.

“I am absolutely serious. When I told you to go to New York I never imagined you would have to live with a complete stranger,” Mom rebutted.

As I turned the corner, beginning my seven-block march to school, I rolled my eyes. She had been the one to practically push me out the door when I left Indiana, and now she was freaking out on me. “What did you think would happen? Do you actually know how expensive New York is?”

“I don’t know, I figured there would be some kind of dorm or something.” I knew she was worried, and I was pretty sure she was missing me as much as I was missing her.

“Well, that’s not how it works, but don’t worry, please. Paige is very sweet, and her boyfriend only lives a couple doors down so if anything goes wrong I am sure he will be there in heartbeat,” I said, attempting to comfort her.

“What kind of thing would go wrong?” she pushed, now sounding even more panicked.

“Oh my God, Mom! Really? Nothing is going to go wrong, I am just trying to make you feel better,” I admitted. I tapped my foot impatiently at the corner light, waiting for the walk sign.

“Well, what about this other character you were telling me about? Her boyfriend’s brother or something?” Leave it to my mom to fish out any information where a man was involved.

“Colin?” I asked, already knowing exactly whom she was talking about.

“Yeah. Is he okay?”

“I’m not sure what you mean by okay, but since I don’t live with him, and have no intentions of speaking much to him, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” My tone was clearly sounding agitated. “Look Mom, I’m almost to school. I need to call you back, all right?”

I crossed the street quickly, practically being carried by the sea of people around me. “I worry, Emmie. Sorry if that upsets you.”

“I’m not upset, Mom, I just really have to go,” I explained, before saying goodbye and attempting to end the call. Instead of ending the call, however, the phone flipped out of my hand. In an attempt to catch the device, I outstretched my arm, causing the weight of my bag to pull me forward and send me toppling over, my belongings spilling out and the contents sliding across the sidewalk, landing near my phone.

“Shit!” I exclaimed, pulling the strap from over my head and scooping the randomly strewn items into my bag. I wasn’t one who would normally curse, but it seemed as though the moment merited the frustration.

Reaching out for the culprit of the disaster, my phone, my hand instead met with the back of someone else’s hand. Following with my fingertips, I made my way up to a strong and muscular arm, realizing someone else had beat me to the phone.

Startled, I hopped to my feet not noticing the man had extended his other hand to me in assistance. When I was again upright my eyes shifted around wildly, mostly staring at the hand that had my phone concealed within it. I wasn’t sure why, but the entire situation made me anxious, that is, until he reached out with his empty hand and touched my arm.

“Are you all right?” he asked, staring at me as if he were inspecting me for damages.

“Umm—”
Really? Umm, is all you can come up with?
I internally scolded myself.

Instead of delivering an intelligent line, I stared blankly. The man was gorgeous in a rugged and mischievous way. His eyes were dark, his stubble just beginning to show, his jawline wide and strong, a dimple on one cheek. He kept his chestnut hair trimmed tight on the sides, but the top slightly messed. I’m not sure what came over me in that moment, but I lifted a single hand and fell forward, using his firm chest to catch myself.

What was I doing? I had now succumbed to groping a complete stranger.

“You seem lightheaded, come sit,” he followed up, taking my arm and leading me to a nearby stone column, the perfect height for sitting.

Yeah, lightheaded!
I thought. I decided I’d run with that. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me—”

“Stryker,” the man said, as if spewing some sort of cryptic code at me.

“Pardon me?” I asked.

“My name… it’s Stryker. William Stryker, but all my friends call me Stryker.”

I’m not sure what possessed me to say the next thing that came out of my mouth. I blame Paige. Somehow, in a short amount of time she had managed to corrupt me. “Well, since we’re strangers what should I call you?” In my mind I kept thinking Mr. Sexy Pants seemed appropriate.

“What?” he asked, a puzzled look on his face.

I couldn’t even deliver the line correctly. “I just meant—since I don’t know you, we’re not friends, and therefore I can’t call you Stryker, what should I call you instead?”

Yup, I had actually managed to make it worse.

“Well, how about you call me Stryker, too?”

“Sounds good,” I replied, giving up on being clever.

“What’s your name?” he asked, handing me my phone.

“Clementine,” I answered, smiling. He didn’t react the way people normally did to my name. I usually got an, ‘Oh, isn’t that unique.’ The best, of course, were the ones who joked, ‘Didn’t your mom love you?’ Instead he just nodded.

“Well, I hope to see you around, Clementine,” he added, turning and walking toward the entrance to the school.

“Thanks,” I called out after him, like a complete dork. What had gotten into me? It was like I had never seen a hot guy before. Apparently all of the guys in New York were hotties, but that was beside the point. I wasn’t interested in men, even if they did make me lose temporary control of my senses. I was there to get my degree and that’s it—nothing else. Certainly nothing that would involve sexy men.

I did it! I made it through my first day of classes and the earth did not spin off its axis, no natural disasters of any kind seemed to be occurring. Perhaps I was going to make it through this next year without falling apart, after all. The walk back to the apartment had been one of the most amazing walks of my life, although nothing special happened exactly. The wind was blowing through my hair, the car horns still blared, but I didn’t seem to notice them anymore. The hair on my arms was standing up, and I could feel my heart fluttering. I think it was happiness, or maybe contentment. It had been so long since I felt either.

In my very first class, the moment the professor had us take out our pads and pencil for still-life studies, I melted into a giddy mess. I could hear most of the students groaning as they dug through their bags, clearly not excited by the random objects set up around the room for us to draw. For me, it was different. I was coming from a place none of them could understand. This was something I had always wanted, and at last, I was not going to let my tragedy define me. I was doing this for me.

Shoving the key into the security door, I turned the lock, making my way inside. I was probably the only student excited by the fact we had homework on the first day of class. I couldn’t imagine how any other artist could look at what we did as work. When I sketched or painted, it felt like breathing. Lugging my oversized bag up the stairs, I gladly dropped it in the hall as I unlocked the apartment.
My New York apartment
: the mere thought of it made me want to squeal in delight.

As I pushed open the door, using my hip, I could hear muffled sounds coming from the living room. Bending over, I picked up my belongings and without raising my head, stepped inside. I allowed the door to close behind me. Paige and I had not discussed our schedules yet, but I was getting the distinct impression she didn’t really have a set schedule. Plopping the keys down on the kitchen counter, I made my way into the living room and prepared to set my bag onto the couch.

Much to my surprise, as I came into the room, I realized the couch was, in fact, occupied. A man’s sculpted, bare ass was staring up at me.

“Oh my God!” I blurted out, unable to move.

Propping himself up with one arm, he shifted his weight to reveal Paige beneath him. She sat up, not bothering to cover her small breasts from my sight. “Umm, hello. Yeah sorry about this, I didn’t think you’d be back for a while.”

For the life of me, I couldn’t think of a single thing to say; instead, I used all of my energy to close my jaw, which I realized had been hanging open for some time. Raising my hand to cover my eyes, I turned toward the door from which I had just entered, grabbed my keys, and made my quick exit, bag still over my shoulder.

There was no way I just saw that… was there? I couldn’t get the image of Christian’s naked body out of my mind. At least he didn’t stand up. I was certain that would be something I could never shake. Bursting from the front door of the building I began to pace back and forth in front of the apartment. I had lived with this girl for one day and had already managed to see her and her boyfriend completely naked. They did not, however, seem to find this as distressing.

I suddenly realized I had another predicament—did they stop after I left, or had they simply continued their activities? There was no way I could return to the scene of the crime, so I would need to find somewhere to sketch for a few hours before returning. They would certainly have to be done by then. The coffee shop Paige had taken me to would have to serve as a temporary studio, and with a huff I began the walk in that direction, contemplating the talk I needed to have with Paige later that evening.

“Em?” I recognized Colin’s voice immediately. Of course I would run into him right now, after just witnessing his brother having a naked romp with my new roommate. And Em? Where did he get off calling me Em?

“Hi,” I offered politely as I walked past, careful not to commit myself to an actual conversation.

“Hey, wait up, I was just coming to talk to you,” he added, grabbing hold of my elbow, causing me to grind to a halt outside of his building.

I looked down at the placement of his hand on my arm. I couldn’t decide if I was revolted or enjoyed the warm touch.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to grab you,” he said, witnessing my internal dilemma.

“No, it’s fine,” I answered, turning to face him. “You were coming to see me? Why on earth—”

“Paige told me you were going to be her new roommate,” Colin began. His dark hair plastered itself against his forehead in the blustery wind. I found myself staring as his gray eyes shimmered.

“Oh right, of course,” I said, the situation becoming clear to me. “You’re my new landlord. Paige said I would just pay her every month, and she took care of everything with you. Is that not right?”

“No, that’s not why I wanted to talk to you,” he continued. I froze, staring at him through confused eyes. I couldn’t imagine any other reason he might possibly want to see me. We had made it more than clear to one another, upon meeting, that we detested the other’s company.

“Oh?” I decided it best to keep my answers short.

“Were you headed out?” he asked, noticing my direction.

“Well—” I hesitated, unsure how to explain my current predicament. “Actually, I just got home, but the apartment seems to be otherwise occupied.”

“Paige and Christian,” Colin laughed. “Yeah, my brother can be a bit of a tasteless dick sometimes.”

“Yeah, your brother,” I muttered under my breath, thinking about the poor ex-roommate of Paige’s I had recently met. I was confident he had learned most of his inappropriate behavior from his big brother.

“What?” he asked, as I quickly regretted my snarky response. It was one thing to think he was a womanizing prick, but something quite different to actually have a discussion with him about these thoughts.

“Oh, nothing,” I replied.

Colin furrowed his eyebrows, one swooping lower than the other, and I wondered how in the hell he could look so damn sexy, even with a scowl on his face. It was infuriating he could look so good all of the time. “Okay, whatever. I used to have a problem with them not respecting my place with their extracurricular activities, but after a quick talk with Christian, it hasn’t been a problem since. I’m sure if you tell Paige, she’ll rein it in.”

“I’ll try that. Is that all?” I asked, eager to break away from his mesmerizing gaze.

“No, are you in a hurry or something?” Colin asked, starting to sound slightly irritated with me.

“I just have a lot of work to do. I was headed to a coffee shop to get started,” I partially explained.

“You should try Ninth Street Espresso sometime. It’s great.”

Of course he would recommend the coffee shop that was in the building he owned. Not that I would give him the satisfaction of knowing that was where I was going anyway.

“So, was there was something else?” I pushed, glancing over my shoulder so he would know I was ready to be on my way.

“You know, everyone in this city works out of coffee shops, right? You’ll be lucky to even get a table this time of day. Why not come in and work here? I have plenty of space for you to spread out. I’ll even make you a cup of coffee. I don’t have my espresso machine hooked up yet, but I can make a mean cup from the French press,” Colin offered.

On one hand, I loathed him for the fact that he had an espresso machine of his own, and on the other, I wanted to hug him because I found a fellow French presser. Though he had a point about being able to work comfortably, I didn’t really want to go into his home and have an ongoing conversation with the creep. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, come on, I’d be insulted if you didn’t. It’s the least I can do after my brother put you out like this.”

He did have a point about that. I didn’t care if he was insulted or not, and the fact that he thought I would care only reminded me more why I disliked him.

“I really have a lot to do… I shouldn’t,” I reiterated.

“I promise, I’ll only talk to you while I make the coffee, and then I’ll be as quiet as a mouse. I have a tiling job in the bathroom to get done, so I doubt you will even see me.” I couldn’t figure out why he wanted me to come in so badly. Only a day ago he had snarled at me to get out of his place and mockingly referred to me as Orange. However, I was eager to start on my assignments, and a quiet place to work would be nice.

“All right,” I relented.

“Great, come on in,” Colin said, holding the door open for me. We were both silent until we made it into the apartment. I didn’t dare look at him, but I could feel his eyes on me, studying me. I wondered if he realized I was wearing one of Paige’s shirts.

“Will the living room work?” he asked as he made his way into the kitchen, immediately pulling out the small red press.

Though the accommodations had seemed quite unfitting to live in, as a workspace, the warehouse was ideal. “Yes, thank you,” I answered.

“You can help yourself to anything you need. I’ll be working in the master bath, but there is also a bathroom down that hall if you need one.”

Placing my bag on the couch, I looked around the place, a little in awe that he didn’t find such a huge project overwhelming. Attempting to ease the awkwardness, I made my effort at small talk, careful not to seem too friendly. “This looks like a big undertaking.”

“Yeah, it is. The biggest project I’ve ever taken on. I can’t decide from one day to the next if I want to jump for joy or throw up.” Colin laughed as he poured the coffee grounds into the device. Had I not had a little of his history told to me beforehand, I might have actually fallen for his charms.

I wanted to ask why he was talking to me? Why would I care about how nervous his next rich boy venture made him? Why would I care anything about him? I wanted to tell him how disgusting he was for treating women like they were objects, to be played with and then discarded. But I didn’t ask those things; I simply nodded with a half-smile, arranging my supplies carefully on the reclaimed wood coffee table.

“Well, good luck,” I lied. I didn’t wish anything bad to happen to the man, but I also couldn’t care less if anything good happened to him.

“Thanks,” he called across the room, placing the filled kettle onto the stove top before making his way over to my location. “Clementine, I—”

“Emmie, you can call me Emmie,” I interrupted. I actually did not consider him a friend, but when he called me Clementine it only reminded me of his Orange comment. At least if he was calling me Emmie I didn’t want to strangle him—mostly.

“All right.” He seemed very pleased with the nickname offer. “Emmie. I wanted to talk to you because of my behavior when we met.”

“Excuse me?” I asked, unsure if I was actually hearing him correctly.

“I know I can be a bit sensitive about this project. You have to understand, I have a lot riding on this, so when a beautiful stranger came in and was so honest about the current condition of this place, it kicked my defense into overdrive. I was rude to you, and for that, I’m sorry.”

My mouth dropped open. Did he really just have the nerve to call me beautiful? Was he flirting with me? Was that a bad thing? Wait, girl, listen to yourself. Of course it was a bad thing. He chewed women up and spit them out. Besides, you didn’t come here for love! Focus! Don’t look at his eyes, don’t look, no, don’t do it. Damn it! I looked. How did he do that? It was almost like he smiled with those gray pools of intensity. Oh God, when did I get so cheesy?

“It’s fine,” I replied, pleased I had avoided coming unraveled on the exterior.

“So, you’re an artist? Do you have anything you can show me?” he asked, and I was sure he was only pretending to be interested.

Before I could say anything, the kettle began to rock, the water within boiling. He turned back and rushed over to relieve it from the heat, transferring the liquid quickly to the press.

I stared as he waited for the perfect timing. “Nothing here, really. I sell my work online, so you could go there and see a lot of my stuff.”

“Oh wow, you’re already selling your work, huh?”

I couldn’t help myself—talking about my art was something I was proud of—even if he was a pig, it didn’t change the fact that I still loved my craft. “I’ve actually been selling my stuff for a couple years. I’ve had over three thousand paintings and prints sell.”

“Holy shit, that’s amazing. Why bother with college? Sound like you’re doing great on your own. I never bothered with college myself, seemed like a waste of money.”

Of course he skipped college, his parents probably started buying him properties as soon as he could walk. I had been around enough wealthy people in my life. Ashton was the same way—he never had a clue about how real people in the world made it. I think that was why he always struggled once his dad’s business went under.

“I want to be better at what I do,” I offered, my answer completely sincere.

“Sounds to me like there are a lot of people who think you do what you do just fine.” Colin suggested, pouring the black richness into two mismatched mugs.

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. He was right, I had already achieved a lot of success in my art career. I wasn’t about to explain my past to him—that I had wanted to go to art school since high school, and I lost that dream because I married a bully. A guy that probably respected women about as much as he did. Then, when I decided I would go and achieve that dream, that bully took everything I had left away from me. I needed this, I needed school to help me find my way back to what I wanted before I became Ashton’s widow. Nobody got to know that part of who I was, though; that belonged to me.