Page 37 of Turning Back

“I’ve never even been here. I knew he had a place, but I always pictured him down in Cherry Creek with all the other assholes in this city. He stays at the Club as far as I know.”

If it bothers Quin that Bric is bringing me to his home, he doesn’t show it. I get the baby and put her in the stroller, and then help Quin with the stuff I’ll need right away. The spot we park in is very close to the elevator, right next to Bric’s car. Quin punches a button—which acts like a buzzer.

“Buzzing you up,” Bric’s voice says through an intercom.

The elevator doors open, we load all my stuff inside, and a few seconds later the elevator doors close and we ascend up to the top floor.

I remember that first night pretty clearly. I’d been in town a while, but I’d been living in a hotel room. So when Elias Bricman, all dressed up in his five-thousand-dollar suit, asked me if I wanted to go home with him, I said sure.

We were at a party. A corporate event that I crashed because I knew he’d be there. I knew a lot about Elias Bricman before I met him at that party. I lost track of him at one point, so I went outside and there he was, looking up at the sky, unlit cigar in his mouth.

He turned and looked at me, pointed a finger, and said, “You don’t belong here.”

For a second I thought that meant he knew I was a crasher. But then I realized he was flirting. Bric is… kinda hard not to notice. Tall, dark, and handsome are just the first words that pop into your head when you meet him. The others are sexy-as-fuck, hot-as-fuck, and boy-I’d-like-him-to-fuck-me.

His body is big with muscles, but not too bulky. He’s well over six feet tall. And his face. Damn, that face. A perfectly-shaped square jaw, full lips that know exactly how to lick a girl between her legs, and the most unusual eyes. Dark, indigo blue. They look brown, almost black if you don’t see them up close and in the light. But they’re not. They’re blue, like ink.

I was wearing a gold velvet dress I bought at a vintage clothing booth at a local antique mall. It was low-cut and in excellent condition, but very unusual. It got me noticed by Elias Bricman that night. And then Quin Foster too. The rest is history. I called it my lucky dress from that day forward. In fact, I think I met Chella wearing that dress as well. That day she bought my book.

The elevator doors open to half a dozen people bustling about. A few are dressed like maids and a few more look like workers. Some guy messing with the TV. Someone over by one of the windows with a drill. And another one talking to Bric off to the left.

Elias Bricman owns the coolest, trendiest loft condo in the whole state, I’m pretty sure of it. As soon as you step out of the elevator you know it’s a special place. The design is that unique combination of modern and rustic you only find in the Rocky Mountains. Exposed brick walls and aged metal accents complement the honey-toned wooden ceiling beams that make you think of a very expensive barn. The floors are an ash-colored hardwood that might clash with the beams and the brick, but the metal accents pull it all together.

The main room is huge and long, with two distinct living sections. Right in front of the elevator is an intimate seating area with three chairs that face a tall window framing the city outside. I’m pretty sure Bric puts chairs in front of all his windows for Smith, even if Smith has never been here.

The loft is right in the heart of lower downtown Denver, or LoDo, as it’s called by the locals, facing the west. Three blocks from Coors Field, across the street from Union Station, and a five-minute walk to the northern edge of the 16th Street Mall. The view of the mountains is worth a million dollars all by itself.

Off to the left is the main living area. Comfy couches and chairs surround a square glass and metal coffee table in front of the TV and gas fireplace. That whole wall is brick.

Even the pipes snaking down the walls and across the ceilings are decorative. None of those gaudy silver air vents to disrupt the decor. All the metal in this condo was made by an artist, and that includes the hot water pipes.

The dining room and kitchen are across the living room. An amazingly modern take on the crystal chandelier over the long wooden table complements the others hanging in the living area. The kitchen is white and sleek. Quartz countertops, industrial-sized stainless steel appliances, and a huge island big enough to have sex on.

But it’s the bedroom that steals the show in this place. Of course it is, right? Bric is a man who knows how to do up a bedroom. It doesn’t have doors, per se. They are sliding barn doors that stand twelve feet high and open at least ten feet wide—like he’s planning on driving a tractor through them. And they’ve got alternating panels of aged wood and opaque-smoked glass.

Everything about this place says… man. And yet it’s done so well a woman can’t help but see herself living here.

I might’ve gasped for air when I saw this condo that very first night.

I might’ve pictured myself sleeping in that bedroom forever and ever, even if my reason for coming to Denver had nothing to do with forever and ever.

I might’ve said yes to his weird offer just to see if I could make things happen.

Of course, I ended up in the Club apartment. Which was disappointing, but only a little bit.

Bric is standing in the kitchen talking to some worker and pointing to the cabinets when he notices Quin and me. “Oh, good,” he says. “You’re here. OK. Everyone out. Thank you for coming on short notice. Send Margaret your invoices and she’ll pay you tomorrow.”

“What the hell is going on?” Quin absently asks as he pulls open one of the massive fridge doors and grabs a beer.

“Baby-proofing,” Bric says, smiling at Adley. “So the pumpkin can’t accidentally eat cleaning products and what not.”

Quin shoots Bric an annoyed look over his shoulder, then pops the top off his beer with a bottle opener and takes a swig. “Baby-proofing?”

“Yeah, you know?” Bric says, walking over to me, grinning down at Adley. “Kids do weird shit like shake cleanser canisters and then lick the dust up off the floor. You gotta be one step ahead at all times.” He reaches down to tickle Adley’s chin. “Right, pumpkin?” She squirms in my arms and shoots him a gummy smile. “What do you think, Adley? Do you like it here?” Then he looks up at me. “You do, right?”

I nod. “You know I love this place.”

Quin walks over and sets his beer down on the island. “How come I thought you lived in Cherry Creek?”