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.
“You can always be better,” I finally said.
“I suppose. Cream or sugar?” he asked searching around for the items he had offered me.
“Black.” When I replied, he looked relieved, then placed the mug carefully on table near me.
“Careful, it’s hot,” he warned, turning back to retrieve his mug. “Well, Emmie, you’re welcome to work here whenever you need a break from Paige and my brother’s incessant savagery. If my work is too loud, there is plenty of space in this building, so we can find a spot for you.”
I wondered if Paige had said something to him about studio space, despite my protests. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I won’t model nude for you, though, so don’t ask. All right, maybe if you say please,” Colin said, turning to deliver a wicked grin. Leaning back against the counter and raising the mug to his lips, he watched, waiting for me to come undone by his comment.
There it was, that egocentric, degenerate, smug attitude I knew was lurking just below the surface. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”
My reaction was clearly not what he expected. I pulled out my sketchpad and flipped it open to the shading exercise we had been given. Plopping down on the couch, with my back to Colin, I was confident I had sent him the message I intended, loud and clear.
“So, is there a boyfriend back home in—where are you from again?” He clearly had not gotten the message.
Glancing over my shoulder, I replied as coolly as possible without being rude, “Indiana, and no, I’m not interested in dating right now. I have a lot of work to do, so was there anything else?”
I was quite proud of the way I was asserting myself with him. It had always been something I had failed at in my younger years. It didn’t take much pushing for people to get me to do what they wanted. I had no intention of repeating those same mistakes.
“No, sorry, I’ll let you get to it then.” His smirk faded, eyelids dropping to where I could no longer see his irises. His disappointment was obvious. For a brief moment I wavered, considering an apology for my rude behavior, but then decided to hold strong as he exited the room.
I could hear the occasional clinking of tiles, but I did not see him again that night. After a couple hours passed, I assumed it was safe to return home to the apartment, and snuck out. I knew it was rude to leave without a word, but I couldn’t fathom what to possibly say to him.
The first week of school was over, and I had somehow managed to avoid Colin for the remainder of it. I didn’t even need to take his advice about talking to Paige about her and Christian’s activities. When I got home that first day, she was waiting for me on the couch. After apologizing profusely, she assured me they would keep their alone time confined to her bedroom.
Though I
“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.
“You can always be better,” I finally said.
“I suppose. Cream or sugar?” he asked searching around for the items he had offered me.
“Black.” When I replied, he looked relieved, then placed the mug carefully on table near me.
“Careful, it’s hot,” he warned, turning back to retrieve his mug. “Well, Emmie, you’re welcome to work here whenever you need a break from Paige and my brother’s incessant savagery. If my work is too loud, there is plenty of space in this building, so we can find a spot for you.”
I wondered if Paige had said something to him about studio space, despite my protests. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I won’t model nude for you, though, so don’t ask. All right, maybe if you say please,” Colin said, turning to deliver a wicked grin. Leaning back against the counter and raising the mug to his lips, he watched, waiting for me to come undone by his comment.
There it was, that egocentric, degenerate, smug attitude I knew was lurking just below the surface. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”
My reaction was clearly not what he expected. I pulled out my sketchpad and flipped it open to the shading exercise we had been given. Plopping down on the couch, with my back to Colin, I was confident I had sent him the message I intended, loud and clear.
“So, is there a boyfriend back home in—where are you from again?” He clearly had not gotten the message.
Glancing over my shoulder, I replied as coolly as possible without being rude, “Indiana, and no, I’m not interested in dating right now. I have a lot of work to do, so was there anything else?”
I was quite proud of the way I was asserting myself with him. It had always been something I had failed at in my younger years. It didn’t take much pushing for people to get me to do what they wanted. I had no intention of repeating those same mistakes.
“No, sorry, I’ll let you get to it then.” His smirk faded, eyelids dropping to where I could no longer see his irises. His disappointment was obvious. For a brief moment I wavered, considering an apology for my rude behavior, but then decided to hold strong as he exited the room.
I could hear the occasional clinking of tiles, but I did not see him again that night. After a couple hours passed, I assumed it was safe to return home to the apartment, and snuck out. I knew it was rude to leave without a word, but I couldn’t fathom what to possibly say to him.
The first week of school was over, and I had somehow managed to avoid Colin for the remainder of it. I didn’t even need to take his advice about talking to Paige about her and Christian’s activities. When I got home that first day, she was waiting for me on the couch. After apologizing profusely, she assured me they would keep their alone time confined to her bedroom.
Though I
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