I suck in a deep breath and will myself to think about anything other than Calder.
“Raelyn?”
When I hear his voice behind me, my stomach twists into a tangled knot. He says my name slightly different than anyone I’ve ever known. He puts more emphasis on the ‘l,’ so it sounds lighter or charming.
I can’t explain it, but I’ve come to like it.
I spin to face him because I can’t exactly pretend that I’m not me for more than half a second.
The brown-haired woman standing next to him smiles. “I’m Magnolia. It’s so nice to meet you. My brother told me about you.”
I look at her eyes. They are the same breathtaking blue shade as Calder’s. I shouldn’t take comfort in the knowledge that she’s his sister, but I do.
“I’m Raelyn,” I offer even though she knows that.
“I’m getting married in six weeks.” She waves her left hand in the air. The streetlights cast enough light that the diamond sparkles.
“Congratulations,” I offer. “That’s very exciting.”
“So exciting.” She bounces up and down in her brown boots. “Calder is going to be my man of honor.”
Is that what he is? Is he a man of honor?
I turn to look at him. “Congratulations to you as well.”
His expression doesn’t change. “Raelyn and I need to get to work, Mags. We’ll meet next week for more wedding planning.”
She grabs his face and plants a kiss on his cheek. “I used to knock his Lego towers down when he was a toddler. Now, look at him.”
I am.
Calder Frost is breathtaking with an imprint of red lipstick on his cheek and an almost smile on his lips.Chapter 15CalderI don’t know if Raelyn’s intention is to kill me, but I’m worried I’m about to drop dead.
The second she shrugged out of her wool coat, and I caught sight of the tight red sweater she’s wearing, my heart stopped mid-beat.
I can’t prove that, but there was an instant ache inside of me. That only worsened when she turned around, and I got a glimpse of her ass in the pair of faded, torn jeans she’s wearing.
The knee-high black boots are back, which isn’t helping my current cock situation.
I’m rock hard.
Thank Christ I’m standing behind the sculpture.
Her gaze travels over my jeans and the black sweater I’m wearing. Approval dances in her eyes and grazes her lips when she softly smiles.
“What’s on the agenda tonight?”
I want to answer with what first springs to mind. Fucking - raw, uninhibited, tear the sheets apart fucking.
“I’m going to work on the sculpture,” I answer with the aid of my brain, not my dick.
Her hands drop to her hips. “What am I going to do?”
Sit on my face?
Drop to your knees?
Touch your pussy for me?
“Paint,” I answer, holding on to the last bit of self-control I have.
She shifts her gaze to the sculpture. “That needs to be painted?”
Hell, no. I wouldn’t let paint within ten feet of anything I create. The natural inconsistencies in the metal are what add depth to my sculptures.
“No, that.” I point at a workstation I set up earlier.
I deliberately set it up behind me so I could witness her reaction. I’m not disappointed.
I see the surprise in her eyes when her hands dart to her chest. She smiles. It’s the most beautiful goddamn thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Calder?” My name escapes her in a strangled sigh.
“Yes?” I answer because I’m not going to steer this conversation. I want her to do that.
“Did you get all of that for me?”
I nod. “Do I look like the type of guy who paints balls?”
She lets out a light laugh. “No.”
She steps toward me, and for a brief moment, I think she’s going to wrap her arms around me and kiss me. What I wouldn’t give for a taste of those ruby red lips.
But she walks around me toward the table that now doubles as a workstation.
When she reaches it, she takes a full minute to look everything over. “I can’t believe this you did this.”
With my hands shoved in the front pocket of my jeans, I stalk toward her. The urge to touch her is real.
I have no idea why this woman makes me feel things, but she does, and if I can do something to make her life easier, I’ll do it.
She turns to face me. We’re no more than six inches apart. “You bought so many ornaments and all that paint. I paint with acrylic on these. Oil on canvas.”
I point at the table. “Use the acrylic for the balls, and if you feel inspired, there are some canvases in the storage room. I bought one of every size. I can dig up an easel too. Bauer has one or two around here somewhere.”
Her eyes find mine. “Why did you do this? I’m supposed to be here to help you with the sculpture.”