Evin's Fight (Southern Charmers 3)

I know the instant realization sets in. “Evin?” her voice is ragged and quivering. “These are sketches of a dance studio.”

“They are sketches of your dance studio.”

She whips around, a dozen reactions crossing her face at once. “You bought me a dance studio?”

I don’t answer, letting her absorb the news.

“EVIN!” she screams, then repeats, “You bought me a dance studio.”

“I bought the building where you can design your dream studio.”

The crutches tumble to the floor and her hands fly to her face, but not before the emotions erupt. I’m on the move, getting to her as she collapses. She clutches to my shirt, a sharp pain shooting where her fingernails dig into the skin over my heart.

“You bought me my dream studio.”

She cries, pressing all her weight into me for support. Every few seconds, she rambles faintly. I can only make out a few things.

“… and then they laughed at me…”

“Dancing all my life…”

“… it hurt, but I knew what to do…”

I run my other hand through her hair, kissing everywhere on her head and temple. “Every ounce of hard work you put in, you deserve this.”

Her body convulses hard, rocking us both. After a while, her cries die down, replaced by hiccups and sniffs.

“Is there a bathroom up here? I need to clean up.”

I smile to myself. “There is.”

“Can you help me get my crutches?”

“Let me carry you.”

She nods. “That’s a better idea.”

I hoist her up, leveling her knee. She buries into my neck, her heated and damp face coating the skin.

The automatic lights come on, and I stop, bracing for the next reaction. Her breath hitches almost painfully. “Oh, Evin.”

I place her on the vanity, trying to lift her to face to mine. She shakes her head. “Tissue please.”

I wet a washcloth and slide it between us. “Baby.”

“Give me a minute.” Her curtain of hair hides her from view.

She swipes, then presses the cloth to her face. After a few minutes, she peers up and my heart stops. Her skin is splotchy and speckled, but her eyes are a glimmering hue of blue-green that I’d break my back to see every day of my life.

“God, you’re gorgeous.”

She twists to the mirror, frowning and tossing the cloth in the sink. “I’m a wrecked mess.”

“Never.”

Her gaze moves rapidly around the room. “This is exactly like my bathroom in Vegas.”

“I have significant memories there.”

“You did this?”

“We finished it yesterday afternoon.”

“The bathroom is what you were working on with Pierce and Miller?”

“Everything else has to have your input, but this room was safe for me to finish.”

“I’m… I’m… I’m shocked and overwhelmed.”

“Baby, take your time to soak it in. Nothing has to happen right away. But I couldn’t keep it from you anymore.”

“When did you buy this building?”

“After the wedding, I contacted a private broker. The broker was Tony.”

“The wedding was in August. We’d been married a week.”

“I didn’t know how long the search would take. The timing was perfect. He knew the previous owners of the building and their intent to sell. We negotiated a deal. It was a quick close three weeks later.”

The timeline hits her. “That was before…” she pauses, sadness flashing in her eyes, “before my accident. I intended to work until my contract was up. You did not know any of this would happen.”

“You’re right, but it didn’t matter because it would be here waiting when you were ready.”

She drops her chin to her chest and exhales loudly. “Let me get this straight. By a random twist of fate, we meet. Less than twenty-four hours later, you’re staying in Vegas and I’m wearing a diamond ring that you pass off as a birthday present. But in reality, it’s your version of a promise ring. Less than a month later, we’re married and your parents meet me for the first time. I go back to Vegas, you shop buildings, and three weeks later own one.”

“Seems like you have it straight.”

Her head whips up. The emotional Poppy from a few minutes ago is gone. My cock stirs, ready for what’s coming. “We’d known each other seven weeks! In that time, we’d spent eighteen days together! Eighteen!”

“Best fucking eighteen days of my life.”

“Are you CRAZY?” she blasts, throwing her hands in the air. “Never mind, the answer is yes. You’re crazy, but this tops everything.”

“You told me your retirement plans and I made it happen. Doesn’t seem crazy to me,” I reply casually, which fires her up more.

“Most people start by leasing. It allows time to grow the business and build clientele. Then they graduate to buying space.”

“We’re not most people. You should know that when I find something I want, I go after it.”

“What if I hated it?”

“Seven buyers are lined up with offers that want me to sell.”

“Seven?”

“Yes, like I mentioned yesterday, my real estate attorney is fielding the interest. My anonymity as the owner is about to end, though. Then I suspect interested parties will contact me directly trying to make a deal.”