The Artist (The Game Changers #2) (5 page)

Chapter Nine

The next morning, I woke up with my very first hangover. It was beyond unpleasant. I groaned when I finally got my eyes open and registered the discomfort my body was experiencing. I rolled over and realized I was only wearing my bra and panties. I tried to remember how I arrived home and why I chose to sleep in my bra and panties instead of my pajamas, but nothing came.

Sitting up was a whole other nightmare. It was like my brain was floating and banging into my skull. I felt my body shift as if I were on a boat rocking with the gentle waves of the ocean. I wore high, high heels on a daily basis, but I had never felt so unsteady in my life. Hangovers were no joke. I couldn’t believe people didn’t go to the hospital to cure them. I was definitely considering calling the family physician to come see me. Head, stomach, body, it all hurt and flip-flopped around like nothing was connected.

In an effort to get out of bed, I slowly turned to set my feet on the floor. I then noticed the juice and pain relievers on the nightstand. Considering my current state, I was proud of myself for thinking ahead. I chugged the juice down, thinking how strange it was that it was still cold. I was sure I had slept for several hours, but my brain wasn’t exactly thinking straight.

After I used the bathroom and slipped on my silk robe, I headed out to the kitchen to get a bottle of water. When I caught a glimpse of someone already in my kitchen, I screamed and went to step backward. Instead of stepping back in my bedroom, I tripped over a pair of black boots on the floor, causing me to stumble and gracelessly catch myself on the side of my sofa.

“Oh shit! Sorry.”

It was Maverick. He was in my condo, in my kitchen, with his shoes off. I was thoroughly confused.

“Are you okay?” he asked when he reached to steady me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to mask my embarrassment once again.

His damn smirk appeared again. “You don’t remember last night, do you?”

“No…” Oh God, oh God, what did I do? Panic proceeded to flare up inside of my chest, making it hard to breathe, causing my other physical ailments from my hangover to disappear.

Maverick kept that damn smirk on his face as he turned back to what he was doing in the kitchen. Cooking? He was cooking in my kitchen. I was pretty sure he was the first to ever do such a thing. My kitchen was U-shaped with a peninsula that separated it from the living room. It was beautiful and useless as far as I was concerned.

Where the stove was couldn’t be seen from the couch, and I liked it that way until now. The sexy man with the tattoos was hidden from my view unless I walked in there, but getting close to him wasn’t what I needed right then. Distance was a much safer option when my mind and body felt like someone was running them over with a truck.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

He turned, and I watched as his eyes flicked down my body. “Maybe you should go put some clothes on first. Then we’ll eat.”

“Eat?” I asked, and then realized my robe was gaping open, giving him a clear shot of my black lace bra. Kitty Peters does not do
Girls Gone Wild
…wait. Katherine Peters does not do…oh, it didn’t matter. Neither the girl my mother raised, nor the new me would ever flash a relative stranger who was randomly cooking in my kitchen. What in the hell is going on?

I stormed back to my bedroom to throw on a wrap dress from a few seasons ago. I couldn’t let go of it because of its comfort. It was perfect in times like this when I needed to dress quickly and look somewhat put together, not that it happened often. When I returned to the kitchen, he was setting plates of eggs, bacon, and toast on my table. That was when I registered the smell that made my stomach roll. He must have noticed because he pointed to the chair and commanded, “Sit. You’ll feel better once you have something in your stomach.”

“Where did you get all this?” I knew I didn’t have bacon in my fridge, let alone bread. Those were no-go foods with my mother.

“I ran down to the store. Your condo is really convenient to the grocery, you know?” I knew he was referencing my practically empty fridge and pantry.

“I don’t cook,” I told him as I eyed the bacon warily.

“It’s bacon,” he deadpanned.

“I know what it is,” I snapped right back.

“Then eat.”

I picked up a piece and carefully took a small bite. It. Was. Delicious. “Mmm…” I moaned.

“Good, right?”

“Yes. I’ve never had it before.”

His forked dropped and noisily clattered against my bone china. The look on his face was one of shock and outrage. After a moment, he spoke slowly. “What do you mean you’ve never had bacon?”

“Too fatty,” I explained with genuine nonchalance. I didn’t see what the big deal was. My mother would never allow bacon, in any form, to occupy my plate. Lean meats, skim milk, and egg whites were the only animal products I was allowed.

“Fatty? You weigh one hundred pounds, maybe, and you’re worried about bacon being fatty!” He seemed almost disgusted, which again, I didn’t understand.

“How do you think I stay so thin? I have to worry about what I eat. Tell me what happened last night.”

“No. You need to eat some bacon. You’re way too thin, so stop worrying about fatty foods and eat up.”

Well, then. “I’m sorry my body doesn’t reach your standards, but gaining weight is not an option. Now tell me what the hell happened last night or get out of my condo.” My voice steadily rose as I spoke. Katherine Peters does anger.

“Look, I’m not saying you aren’t gorgeous just as you are, but you don’t need to watch what you eat. Whoever told you that is delusional.”

Couldn’t argue that. My mother might be a little loony. I shrugged, not wanting to admit that he might be right. Then I realized what else he had said, and a tremor of excitement ran through me. He said I was gorgeous. Just as I am. I felt like Bridget Jones.

“Eat,” he nodded.

I started eating my yellow eggs, which was also unusual, and bacon, enjoying every fattening bite of it. The guy could cook; I’d give him that. I didn’t have a clue how hard it was to cook eggs and bacon, but I was impressed either way.

“Nothing,” Maverick said once he finished clearing his plate.

“I’m sorry?” I was so absorbed with eating my delicious breakfast I thought I had missed something.

“Last night. You wanted to know what happened. Nothing happened.”

“Oh.”

He laughed. “You sound disappointed.”

“No. It’s not that,” I said with a sardonic glare. “It’s just that I’m confused. Why are you here? In my condo…this morning, I mean.”

“Oh. That. After you stumbled out of my bar and attempted to walk home, you tripped and almost fell into the street. A car almost hit you. Thankfully, I followed you to make sure you were all right and pulled you out of harm’s way.”

“Thank you for that. You’re a regular superhero.” Again, I had to play off my embarrassment. I was normally so steady on my feet. It seemed I was meant to be flat on my back around Maverick. Oh! That sounded dirty. Katherine Peters may have a dirty mind.

Maverick held up one finger. “Not finished yet. Then you rubbed your body all over me and begged me to come upstairs.”

“I did not!”

“You did,” he nodded.

“Stop. That did not happen.”

“No. I just held you up for a moment, then you said you were tired and promptly passed out standing up. I brought you inside, and your security guard was more than surprised to see you in such a compromising position.”

“I’m sure. I bet he called my father.”

“It’s possible, considering the number of times your phone went off this morning. Your mom called several times, and someone named Ward called and left you a voicemail.”

“You checked my phone?”

“It started going off at five and didn’t stop until I turned it off at seven.”

I fell back and leaned my head against my beautifully upholstered kitchen chair. I knew my mother was calling after hearing about my behavior from my father and Cliff, the security guy who always checked up on me. It seemed I was due for a lecture. Ward calling was a surprise, though.

“So, who’s Ward? Boyfriend? If so, it’s a good thing I didn’t answer your phone. If you were my girl, I’d be pretty pissed if a strange guy slept on your couch after you went out and got lit.”

I let out a quick laugh. If I were his girl…

It sounded nice but was never going to happen. “No. No boyfriend. He’s the man my parents tried to pawn me off onto. Just a friend.”

I still hadn’t sat back up, and it felt good to slouch. It was a small rebellion, but any rebellion felt good at this point. For some reason, I felt completely at ease with Maverick sitting next to me in my kitchen. It was like he belonged there, like we were old friends. The only old friend I could be myself around was really Maddox, so feeling comfortable so quickly around Maverick was more than surprising.

“How does a girl like you not have a man?”

“You know, my parents tried to arrange my marriage, and he fell in love with his soul mate. Not me, obviously.”

“Your parents sound a bit controlling,” he commented dryly.

“You have no idea.”

In an effort to avoid continuing this conversation, I grabbed our plates and began to clean up.

“Here, I’ll help.” He stood and followed me. He was so close that I could feel his heat.

“No. You cooked. I’ll clean. Besides, I’m sure there’s somewhere you have to be other than taking care of a stupid girl who drank too much.”

“Uh. Yeah.” He stepped out of the kitchen, back into the living room, and put on his boots and a long sleeved shirt over the t-shirt he was wearing. I tried to slyly watch him move because he did it with such ease, but he caught me. I quickly turned back to cleaning the kitchen, once again struck by how attracted I was to this man.

He shrugged on his jacket, and suddenly I felt disappointed at the idea that he was leaving. If I wasn’t mistaken, he didn’t look too happy about leaving either. In fact, I believe he was moving rather slow for someone who had somewhere else to be.

He came over to stand on the opposite side of the peninsula that separated my kitchen from the living room just as I wiped my hands on a dishtowel. For a moment, we didn’t say anything; we just stared at each other. It should have been awkward. With anyone else, it would have been, but the silence was comfortable for that moment.

“What are—?”

“Thank you—”

We both started speaking at the same time.

“You go,” he said and held out his hand to urge me to go first.

“I was just going to say thank you for last night and for breakfast. I usually don’t drink. Last night didn’t go as planned, and I needed to do something…something different.”

“Aside from the fact you almost got hit by a car, I’m glad you came in.” He scratched his stubble like he was unsure about something. That stubble was very sexy stubble and made me crazy with need. Finally, he said, “What are you doing today?”

“I have an article to finish, but otherwise I have no plans.” I needed to write a resume, so I could get a job in order to find somewhere else to live, but I was burying my head for now. I was going to have to think about it at some point, but today was not that day.

“Now you do. I’m going home to take a shower. How about I pick you up in an hour?”

I knew nothing could happen with him, but it didn’t make me want him any less. My parents would never approve, though…Wait. It wasn’t up to them anymore. Memories from last night came flooding back, and my father’s one-month grace period came to the front of my mind. Why couldn’t I spend time with Maverick? Even if it were for only a month, it would be better than never doing something for myself at all. If I had to go crawling back to my parents at the end of the month, at least I would have this.

I felt excitement bubble up inside of me. It was difficult not to behave like the giddy girl I felt like right then. “What are we going to do?”

“You asked to see my paintings. How about I take you on a tour of Seattle unlike anything you’ve ever seen?”

“I think that sounds like fun, Maverick.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You know my name is Adam, right?” I vaguely remembered hearing that some other time, but I couldn’t quite reach the memory. It didn’t matter, though.

“Yes.” I smiled a real, genuine megawatt smile. I was going to spend the day with Maverick…umm…Adam. Whatever.

Chapter Ten

Once Maverick left, I checked my cell phone. He was right. My mother had called several times. I ignored them and listened to the voicemail from Ward.

“Hey, Katherine, it’s Ward. I was calling to check on you this morning before I flew back to New York. I’m sorry for calling so early, but I was on my way to the airport. You don’t have to call me back, but I meant what I said. I’m here if you ever need anything. I’m sure we’ll meet again in the future, but until then, don’t be a stranger.”

I was touched by his kindness. If ever I chose to marry someone for my parents, he would be an excellent choice. I was focused on ignoring my parents’ wishes for the time being, though, and I needed to get ready quickly before the man who would help me do that returned.

By the time he knocked on my door, I had showered and dressed in record time. I kept my makeup simple and left my hair straight. It was unusual for me to be so low maintenance, but I figured Maverick might appreciate seeing a more relaxed version of me. My fitted black pants were tucked into my camel boots with a cream cashmere sweater. A little sexy, but mostly tasteful, this was as casual as I could be with what I had available.

I opened the door to a smiling Maverick. Without permission, my eyes scanned his broad chest and jean clad thighs that hinted at the muscle underneath. This guy was too much. When my eyes came back to his face, the damn smirk was there along with a cocked eyebrow. He wisely didn’t comment about my perusal, but instead stepped forward and said, “You look gorgeous, Duchess.” Then he kissed my cheek, and I sensed how delicious he smelled, something masculine and provocative. I had smelled it before when he stood too close to me. The reaction was the same each time. Lust coursed through me again, so I stepped back. Distance was required.

I smiled up at his dark eyes that wrinkled with amusement. He knew how he affected me. Unfortunately, I couldn’t read him as easily.

“Ready?” I asked, needing to get out of my condo and far away from my bedroom.

He nodded slightly and held the door for me. “Yeah. Let’s do this.” He didn’t sound as excited as he had this morning, but if I was about to show someone my work, I wouldn’t exactly be chomping at the bit to get there. I had considered how incredibly brave he was being by even considering showing me his art.

I grabbed my coat and purse and followed him to the elevator. In the mirrored door, I saw a secret smile touch his lips. “What?” I asked, only making eye contact with him through the door.

“I was just thinking about the last time I was in this elevator with you.”

“Oh,” I frowned, thinking of all the possibilities, considering I couldn’t remember ever being in any elevator with him. Suddenly, it was me who didn’t feel so confident in our afternoon.

“What’s that about?” He pointed to my lip that was tucked under my teeth.

I turned to look up at him. “Seeing as I don’t remember ever riding in this elevator with you, I don’t know what you would be smiling about.”

His smile grew wider. “I was carrying you, and even in your drunken stupor, you were trying to sneak a little cuddle.”

“A little cuddle?” I scoffed. “I’m sure I was just cold.”

“You’re anything but cold, Duchess,” he mumbled just as the elevator doors opened. I didn’t get a chance to ask him what he meant before he took my hand and led me down the sidewalk back toward his bar. It was bitter outside, so I hoped he wasn’t planning on keeping me outside too long. I had on my coat, but it was more for looks than warmth. Not to mention, I wasn’t exactly an all-terrain kind of girl.

He stopped next to a small, sporty-looking Subaru that was parked on the street in front of his bar. Of course his car was black and sporty. It suited him. The only other thing I could picture him having would have been a motorcycle, which wasn’t exactly suitable for the weather today. With his dark hair, stubble, leather jacket, and black leather boots, I could see Maverick on a bike. He would definitely look hot on a Harley. Oh, who am I kidding? The man would look hot on a tricycle.

He opened the passenger door for me like a gentleman, and I was more than pleased with his effort. Usually, men only treated me like this when my parents were around. It wasn’t me they wanted to impress; it was Dick who was the key to their future. Not Maverick, though. He didn’t know Dick, try to impress Dick, give a damn about Dick. Ahem. Too far, Katherine, too far.

When he pulled into the traffic, I finally asked, “Where are we headed?”

“A few places,” he offered vaguely while switching on his blinker to change lanes. Yes, I found a responsible driver as well. Note—he did not hire a car. This was a first for me. Of course, I had ridden with Maddox, but no guy I knew had ever driven on a date, or whatever this was. The men I knew were trying to either show off their money, or get lucky in the backseat…with the driver in the front. Classy, right? Too bad they had the wrong girl for backseat nookie. Kitty Peters was so not that girl.

“You aren’t going to tell me?”

His grin was infectious. “That would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?” Playful Maverick was charming. I liked him almost as much as sexy, smoldering Maverick.

I couldn’t help the smile on my face as well. I was already having more fun than I had ever had on a maybe date. “I guess it would. All right. I’ll be patient.”

We chatted comfortably about living in Seattle and seeing the tourist attractions that most locals didn’t typically visit. I hadn’t been anywhere that I didn’t go on a school field trip or with my nanny. It wasn’t like my parents would have been caught dead at the space needle, or God forbid, the aquarium.

Maverick was another story. His mom took him and his brother everywhere. They went on family vacations and day trips. He regaled me with stories of him and his little brother, Jack. It was obvious from the tone of his voice how much Maverick cared about his family, especially Jack. A pang of jealousy stabbed at me. All I ever wanted when I was growing up was a sibling. Sister. Brother. It didn’t matter. Another warm body would have been sufficient. I think a dog would have done it, but no. Pets weren’t allowed, either.

He guided the car past Pier 57 where The Great Wheel and Miner’s Landing were. There were few people around, probably due to the cold, but that made it easier for us to park. I couldn’t imagine what we were doing over here, but I promised not to ask any more questions.

“Don’t worry. We won’t be out here long,” he told me as he held the door open for me. I stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of Waterfront Park. Wind whipped around us, bringing a chill from the water. He wrapped an arm around me as he led me down through the park.

The concrete walls that used to be bare when I was a child were covered in vibrant colors displaying highlights of Seattle. All the Washington sports teams were recognized. There was a section for music, art, and even business. I rolled my eyes at the large Starbucks logo. I loved their coffee as much as the next person, but nothing held a candle to my sweet little coffee shop with my favorite chair.

I kept investigating the huge mural that spanned the multiple walls around the park. Each section was different and didn’t look like Adam’s other paintings. “You did this?” I asked curiously.

“Sort of. The city commissioned five painters to do this. Blythe and I were both commissioned to do the project. It’s how we became such good friends. You can’t spend hours upon hours working with someone like her and not get to know her. She doesn’t allow it. Come on. You can see her work better over here.” He led me to a section that was more abstract and somehow brighter and louder than the rest.

“She’s good,” I commented as I took in Blythe’s work. The colors were unique, and the dreamlike state she could somehow evoke with the simplest of paint strokes was present as well. “It’s interesting how someone so polished and seemingly uptight can create something so abstract, chaotic almost. I guess it goes to show you really can’t always judge a book by its cover.”

He nodded, pressing the tips of his fingers gently to a bright blue streak that bled into yellow and green. “I agree,” he said thoughtfully. “She thinks outside the box for sure. At least in her art, anyway.” He paused for another moment, and I was realizing that Maverick was a deeper thinker than most men I knew. He proved me right a few seconds later when he finally spoke. “Her paintings make me think beyond what’s in front of me, which is what she strives for people to do, I think. It seems to me, she wants us to interpret her work in a way that’s personal. You know, the real art is when she’s painting. She uses her whole body to create a piece. I’ve never seen anything like it. She ends up covered in paint from her hair to her back to her toes. I don’t know how she gets it everywhere, but it’s part of her process.”

I stared at her work, thinking how his interpretation of her goal seemed so accurate. Each image could be anything you made it. Her imagination wasn’t the only one coming through the colors; it was mine, as well.

Unfortunately, my appreciation of her work was also suddenly tempered by a slight onslaught of uncomfortable emotions. I wondered if he and Blythe had shared some deep conversation about what their art meant to them or what they wanted it to mean to others. Jealousy poked at my gut when he was talking about her art and watching her create it, but reason won my attention. They were just friends. If they wanted to be anything more, they would have already made that leap. Then I realized it was totally possible that they had made a “leap,” and the jealousy found its way back. Ugh!

“I, on the other hand…” He grabbed my hand, and my attention then led me to another section that was covered in people doing seemingly mundane things, like sitting on a bench reading or walking a dog. “I like to put it all out there. I want to show the relationships people have with each other and with the space around them. My goal isn’t to make you think, it’s to make you feel like you are part of the moment.”

I stood still while I absorbed his whole wall. “This is beautiful,” I finally said after a long moment. “I don’t know how you make them seem so real, but I feel like I could walk right into that painting and exist.” I approached the wall as if I could do just that. Of course, it was nothing but concrete behind the paint, so I couldn’t climb in the painting like it led me to believe from farther away. I turned to look up at him and saw him watching me with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “So, why the bar if you can do all this?” I asked while waving my hand toward the impressive piece of art.

“Ever heard of starving artists?” His lip lifted into a sad smile.

“Of course, but this looks nothing like starving.”

He shrugged and took the few steps to stand beside me. While staring at his work he said, “It didn’t start out that way. When I finished college, I couldn’t sell anything. I was a no name kid with an art degree. I didn’t matter in this town. I still don’t, really, but I have just enough connections to do what I love without selling out or resenting the job. The bar was my first painting. I was a bartender slash artist. The bar used to be really rundown but still a cool hangout. The original owner, Hank, didn’t care much about the upkeep, but I did. I asked him if I could do some work, and he agreed as long as he didn’t have to spend any money.”

“Cheap bastard.”

He let out a quick laugh. “Turns out, the bar wasn’t making any money. Anyway, I painted the mural on the wall and did some other work. When he decided it was time to retire where it was sunny and warm, he sold me the bar for a hundred dollars.”

“Really?” I asked surprised. “He gave up his bar for a hundred dollars?” Huh.

“Yeah, but what did I know about running a business? Like I said, I was an art major.”

“You seem to be doing well now.” I looked up at him.

His dark eyes met mine, and I could see the seriousness in them. Playful Maverick was long gone. Honest Maverick had taken his place and was giving me a glimpse into where he came from. “Desperation will make you do things that you never thought you would be able to do,” he explained.

I took a step closer this time and grabbed his hand. I felt the need to show some sort of support, affection maybe. I wasn’t sure. I just knew I needed to touch him. It was the first time I had ever felt grateful that someone was sharing a piece of himself with me. Perhaps it was because he was sharing a genuine piece of himself with me.

“What about the painting?” I asked.

“Still there. My buddies Corbin and Brock, and my brother Jack helped me turn the bar into what it is now. One day someone came in asking about the artist who painted the back wall, and just like that, I had another job. I only work at the bar between jobs or if I need to fill in. Otherwise, I’m just the owner. Corbin actually runs the place for the most part.”

“I think it’s sweet you kept the name of it Hank’s,” I told him with a smile. “He must have been a good guy.”

He snorted and blushed a little. It tickled me to see someone covered in tattoos and dressed in black leather blush over being called sweet. This was a far cry from the growling, protective man from the coffee shop, and even further from the sexy man with the damn smirk I woke up to this morning. The many sides of Maverick were getting more and more appealing with every passing moment I spent with him.