Page 15 of Jace
Something stunning breaks across her delicate face. Like her true nature is a warm smile. Like even though it’s been stolen from her, she steals it back for a moment…
And gives it to me.
I’ve never been in love, though now I understand the yearning for it… and the fear. Why some are so afraid of this vulnerable feeling that’s choking my throat. While all I fear is…
Never being with Vivian, even if only as her friend.
“But sure.” She smiles softly. “I’d love to teach you. Honestly, I’d be thankful to have another friend.”
It’s the slice of hope I need.
“So this Sunday?” I lift off the doorjamb, standing tall. “I’ll meet you here at noon and drive us to Folly Beach?”
It’s not a date.
But tell that to my palms sweating like it is. Like it’s my high school prom when I took my friend Wilder’s little sister because no one else would ask her, and I felt bad for her. She was too feisty for most. Hence, my sweaty palms. That wasn’t a date either, but it was my honor.
What can I say? I have a soft spot for women who are too strong for weak men.
In three steps, I’m offering my bear paw to Vivian. “Photography friends?”
Her small hand slides into my grasp, fitting like my missing piece, and firmly shaking my soul.
“Photography friends,” she vows.
Little did I know—but not fear—the men I’d destroy to be far more than Vivian’s friend.
CHAPTER FOUR
VIVIAN
A year ago
When you can’t rememberthe last time you felt loved, it’s time to change your life.
Or change who you’re spending it with, and I plan to.
I’m fighting like hell to end my miserable marriage. A cheating man doesn’t have to lay a hand on you to try to bury you in the dirt.
But fuck David.
I’m a seed, waiting to bloom again.
And Jace Ryan is my sunshine.
He’s my new photography friend. I’ve always wanted someone to share my passion. I mean… my passion for theart.
As far as my other passion?
Okay, honestly, yes, Jace is hotter than the sun. I sweat at the heat he radiates. I’m curious about the ink underneath his starched collar. I’m sure by his ripped forearms that his body matches. And I’m tempted because a man of Jace’s size must be very big…everywhere.
It makes my soon-to-be ex-husband seem even smaller.
Jace’s request that I teach him photography made for a great day at work. To say nothing of the sex-swing drama.
But now I dread unlocking my front door to find David, squatting in my home. But thankfully, the alarm beeps, signaling I have my house to myself.
It’s a house my sweet father bought for me before he died. It’s my inheritance. A home built in 1700 that he’d been eyeing for years. It’s a rare property, owned by women artists for centuries.
