It’s an adorable little bungalow with a Spanish tile roof and a small flower bed in the front. The stucco is painted a burnt red color, and the shutters are a pretty blue. As we pull to a stop in the short driveway, the front door––painted to match the shutters––swings open, and a beautiful woman with salt and pepper hair swept up into a messy bun steps out onto the wide porch.

Jared climbs from the car without a word and heads straight for her. I bite my lip, my cheeks heating as she gives her son a stern look before saying something and pointing at me. Admonishing him for just leaving me sitting here, no doubt.

Pulling on the handle, I swing open the door and step out of the car with a bright, fake smile plastered to my face. The last thing I want is for Jared to be bullied into being chivalrous by his mother. Fake care and affection are worse than none at all. At least it’s honest.

And I changed my mind. I’m not waiting until we leave here to have it out with him. The first moment we find ourselves alone, I’m putting an end to this bullshit.

And forget the boots. His ass is about to become really well-acquainted with my lucky high heels.

“Hello, Sophie. It’s so nice to meet you,” Mrs. Hart says, giving me a quick look of apology when Jared just steps inside.

“Thank you for having me, Mrs. Hart. Or is it Ainsley?”

“Oh, God no,” she says, shuddering at the mention of her ex-husband’s name. “It’s Hart, but please, call me Bethany.”

“Okay, Bethany,” I say, giving her a small smile as she links her arm through mine and leads me inside.

“So, what has his panties in a twist?” she whispers, jerking her head toward the other side of the house.

A short laugh barks out of me, and I think I love Bethany Hart.

“I have no idea,” I say. “He was fine at work, but he’s been like this since he picked me up. Nervous, maybe?”

“Maybe,” she says slowly, her eyes glassing over as if she can see him through the walls. She quickly shakes it off, though, and pulls me forward. “Come, let me show you around.”

We head around a corner and skid to a halt. It’s the dining room, and Jared is standing in front of a liquor cabinet with a half-full snifter of amber liquid. My eyes widen––I know he doesn’t drink much, and when he does, it’s usually half a beer, or less. I look over at Bethany, and she’s wearing my same expression…disbelief tinged with suspicion.

I look back at Jared, and he meets my eyes over the rim of his glass as he takes a long drink. I narrow my gaze, and Bethany must feel the tension between us, because she mumbles an excuse and leaves us to duke this…whatever this is…out.

“What is wrong with you?”

“See anything you recognize?” he counters, ignoring my question and waving his glass toward my right.

I turn my head to see what he’s pointing at, and there it is. The Pollock. The painting that changed my life for the better. Or, at least, I thought it had.

I look back at Jared. “You bought it for your mother?”

The question is a buffer. Something to get him talking to me so we can eventually get to the heart of what’s bothering him. I don’t actually give a shit about the painting.

“Like you didn’t know,” he says, barking out an ugly laugh before taking another long swig of his drink.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask, my hackles rising at his accusatory tone.

“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“I’m here because you invited me.”

“Don’t play coy with me, Red.”

And for the first time since I started working for him, the nickname sounds awful coming from his lips.

“Why are we talking about a fucking painting?” I ask, fighting like hell to keep my voice down. “You’re being the asshole you were when we first met.”

“When you had to have this painting for your boss,” he snarls, then his face goes blank as he looks away to stare at the Pollock. “My father bought this for her for their first anniversary. It’s her most-prized possession. Harrison Ainsley guilted her into taking it down while they were married because it reminded him of her love for my father. During the divorce, he used it as a bargaining chip. She gave it up to get him out of her life completely. I told you it was always going to be mine. That you were destined to lose in that auction. Now, you know why.”

“I’m glad you got it back for her,” I say, feeling moved by the story despite his dead, lifeless tone when telling it.

“Are you?” he asks, his dark eyes shooting sparks when he looks back at me.

Tags: Piper James Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net