Dirty, Reckless Love (Boys of Jackson Harbor 3)

“I insist.”

Ellie falls asleep halfway to Chicago. She looked exhausted as we packed the car, so I was glad to see her drift off. She must be as tired as I think, because she doesn’t even wake up as I navigate through the stop-and-go of downtown traffic.

I was surprised she didn’t argue when I said I was going with her. I expected a fight, but now I think she actually wants my company—something I can’t let mean more than it does. Friends.

I pull into a parking garage, prepared to leave my car here for the day, cut the engine, and stare at her. It’s time to wake her up, but I let myself have a minute to take her in: the dark lashes on her flushed cheeks, the slight part of her full lips, the freckles across the bridge of her nose.

This morning, I promised her I didn’t need anything more than friendship, and even though I know that might kill me a little, I meant it. For Ellie, I can do anything. But being what she needs has never stopped me from wanting more.

She must sense me staring at her, because she opens her eyes, yawns, and stretches before looking around. “Where are we?”

“Parking garage. You slept through half the trip.”

“Oh my gosh.” She rubs under her eyes. “I’m the worst.”

“I think you needed it.”

“Probably. I haven’t been sleeping very well.” She shrugs it off. “Thanks for doing this. It means a lot to me.”

“Spending my day with you isn’t a hardship. You said you wanted to go to the Tyler-Wells Gallery downtown?”

She nods and flips down the visor to open the mirror. “It shouldn’t take long.” She pulls lip gloss from her purse and applies it carefully before reaching for her mascara.

So fucking beautiful. “Can I come in with you, or do you need to go in alone?”

She flashes me a smile as she drops the mascara in her purse. “You can come. I just need to ask about a collection.”

Interesting. I don’t buy for a second that she’s on a new job, but I expected her to ask me to hold back when she went into the gallery.

We climb out of the car and take the elevator down to the street level of the parking garage. The unseasonably warm October day is tempered by the breeze off the lake. The noon sun shines bright, reflecting off the high rises.

“The gallery should be a block over that way,” I say, pointing.

“Perfect.” She surprises me by linking her arm with mine before she starts in that direction. She feels good tucked into me like this. Right where she belongs. “I’m sorry I slept the whole trip.”

“I don’t mind. It gave me some time to think.”

She scans my face. “What were you thinking about?”

Colton. You. Us. Secrets. “A little bit of everything, I guess.”

“Ah, everything.” She nods. “I’ve been thinking about that too, coincidentally.”

“What are the chances?”

She laughs, but when we walk into the gallery, her posture changes and she transforms into an assertive businesswoman. I stay back and watch in utter fascination as she approaches the counter.

The woman standing behind it measures her up shamelessly. “What can I do for you, ma’am?”

“Hello.” Ellie extends a hand. “My name’s Ellie Courdrey. We met when I was cultivating the Oranthe collection for one of my clients.”

That seems to get the woman’s attention, and her reserved smile changes to the greedy grin of someone who senses money at her fingertips. “Well, it’s wonderful to see you again, Ellie. What are you after today?” She waves her hand in the air to indicate the pieces around the gallery, then lowers her voice so I can just barely make out her words. “Not everything is officially for sale, but as you know, there are always exceptions if the price is right.”

“I’m actually looking for something that isn’t in the gallery right now. It’s a collection connected to a piece you had maybe five years ago?”

The smile falls from the woman’s face, and I have to bite back a laugh. This is not a fellow art lover who’s excited to help Ellie find the pieces she’s looking for. This is a shark who’s only interested in the next sale.

“The artist?”