Scorned (From the Inside Out #1) (7 page)

“You surprised me at my work, so I’m returning the favor,” I reply, turning around and leaning my back against the window sill. I try to maintain control of the situation, pretending I’m comfortable being like this with him again.

“I didn’t know you worked at that gallery,” he justifies, and I actually believe him. He seemed surprised, but held it together. “I’m sorry if you felt intruded upon.”

“No, it’s not that.” I owe him nothing, so I stop there. I scan his office for photos and see two frames, one on the low console behind him. His parents—happy, all smiles, arms around each other’s shoulders. Picture perfect. I miss them. I wonder if he knows that his mother still emails me.

The other frame is smaller and facing away from me. I want to see it, to know who it is, to see the person that has found a place of honor on his desk, but I can’t and I won’t snoop. I’m not the least concerned about coming off as polite. It’s not that at all. It’s that in that moment, in this room filled with old, wilting, mixed-up feelings, I’m scared to know the truth about the man Dylan Somers has become. I’m afraid of finding out I was forgotten the same day he left. That would hurt me in new ways and change the memories that were good between us.

Why I decided to torture myself this way, I’ll never know. I have nothing to prove to him, so I head for the door without another word. His footsteps are heavy on the carpeted floor behind me. “Jules, wait.”

I don’t wait and he stops shy of the double doors that separate the reception desk from the offices of importance that lie beyond where we came from. The desk is still abandoned by an employee taking their lunch break, an employee that is the gatekeeper for Dylan. The employee that I never encountered due to off-timing in his or her schedule, the one who would normally keep people like me from visiting.

The elevator button is pressed as the glass door shuts quietly behind me. Stepping inside, I push L, then secure myself in the back corner hoping for a non-stop descent. I’m not that lucky. The elevator doors slide open one floor down.

“Jules?”

“Hello.” I smile, pleasantly surprised. Maybe my luck is changing.

AUSTIN BARKER, ONE
of my top art buyers, steps into the elevator with me, double checking that the lobby button is highlighted. When he turns back to me, he smiles as if disbelieving his own eyes. A thrill resides there when he looks at me, making my stomach clench in the best of ways. “This is a nice surprise,” he says, his smooth but deep voice shooting straight for my heart.

He’s not the aggressive type and has proven his patience with me through the years. I’ve always found him quite charming, and surprised he stayed single. Dark hair highlights his handsome face with his straight nose leading to full lips. His sharp jaw and green eyes are not to be discounted. From the side, I see he’s got a small bump at the bridge of his nose that’s barely noticeable, but I notice, and I really like the flaw.

I grip the railing behind me and stand more upright. “Yes, a nice surprise,” I repeat his words. I’m still shaken from seeing Dylan moments earlier, so I brush my hand down my skirt, needing to be professional in front of a client. My head tilts and I smile before trying again. “It’s really good to see you, Austin. Are you in the building on business or do you work here?”

The elevator music fades away as our conversation begins. He smiles, looking down, a bit shy. When his eyes meet mine again, he says, “I’m here on business. My financial group is in the building.”

Dylan works in finance
.

Turning my attention back to Austin, I ask, “I’ll have the paint—” but I’m interrupted by the doors opening.

“Oh, we’re here.” Austin waves his hand out for me to exit first.

The lobby is busy, but it’s New York, which makes it easier to blend into the crowds and lose myself usually. But I’m with Austin and liking the change. We walk together past security and toward the doors. I continue what I started to say before, “The painting should be delivered this week. We’ll be calling you to set up a date and time at your convenience.”

“It’s an interesting piece. I look forward to seeing it hanging in my home.”

“I think it’s a great addition to your collection.”

We step onto the sidewalk and both stop. Looking around, then back at him, I kind of wish we had more time together. I shift and then turn back catching his eyes directed at me. “Jules?” A nervous pause. “Can I give you a lift somewhere?” he asks, referencing a car at the curb. “My car is right over here.”

Following his hand, a sleek black car is waiting. A driver stands, opening the door when he sees Austin.

“No, that’s fine—”

“I insist,” he says, stepping closer, cautiously. “I don’t have any more appointments today and no commitments tonight. That’s a rare occurrence for me.”

I hate taking cabs across town at the beginning of rush hour, but I know it’s not just that. I know it’s really that I want more time with him. “Alright then.”

We slip into the backseat, and as soon as the door closes, the world outside is silenced and it’s just the two of us. Looking to me, he asks, “Where to?”

I think for a minute. I could always go back to work. It’s early still, only 4:15. I should go to the gallery and get some work done. That would be the responsible thing to do.

But Austin shifts, interrupting the guilty spiel I’m putting on myself, and says, “I’m going out on a limb here because I’m happy to see you. I know we’ve… you’ve kept things professional over the years, but I’d like to spend some more time with you.” He laughs lightly, feeling embarrassed. “You know that already though. How about some coffee or—”

After my lunch with Brandon and then my brief meeting with Dylan, which I already regret, I could really use a drink. “Something stronger like a cocktail?” I ask

“Exactly,” he laughs. “I know this great bar in my neighborhood. It’s a good place to unwind.”

Fascinated by the handsome man next to me, I reply, “Sounds perfect.” He’s most certainly endearing with his shy side, and his persistence reminds me of how many times he’s asked me out over the years. He’s never brought another woman with him to a show or exhibit he’s attended at my gallery. He’s charismatic and likes art, but I also catch him watching me, a kindness to his smile.

“Great!” His zeal is flattering. He directs the driver and off we go.

Austin has money—the paintings, the chauffeured driven car, his apartment in Tribeca. I take a deep breath. I had inklings before, but now to hang out with him, to see the life he leads outside the gallery… it’s a lot to take in. My deep breath doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Are you alright, Jules?”

His concern is evident. “I’m fine. I just haven’t done…” I say, waving my hand between us, “…this in a while.”

“
This?
Oh.” He understands I’m referring to us, being together much like a date. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. If you want to go, you can tell me and Henry will take you home. There’s no pressure. Just two friends having a drink together for the first time.”

His sweet nature makes me smile, putting me at ease. “Thank you, but I’m just being silly. I want to be here, with you. Anyway, it’s not our first date. It’s about our seventh, I would say.”

The car pulls to the curb and he opens the door before the driver has a chance. Leaning down, he offers me a hand as I slide across the slick leather. When I set my hand in his, his hold tightens and our eyes meet. His are stunning, an innocence of hope residing there. Maybe that’s what happy looks like. It’s been too long since I’ve seen happy this close. His hand goes to my lower back, gentle guidance, care. Laughing so effortlessly, he says, “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Just treat this like, like when we’re at the gallery. Now, let’s get that drink.”

It’s a pub. The man who is more than well-off financially takes me to a pub. “A pub?” I question.

“Not just any pub,” he starts, holding the door open for me. “McKeown’s. It’s an institution and holds its own amongst the trendy bars that have overtaken the City.”

We enter and I immediately realize it’s also a sports bar. The walls are light, the furnishings are wood, not pretentious, TV’s all around. A different game is showing on each, but I don’t look twice to find out which ones or even the sport they’re highlighting. Austin takes the lead, weaving through the tables. It’s crowded and loud and not where I expected to be taken, but I think I might like him even better for picking this place. After finding a small table in the back corner, he starts to loosen his tie. “Do you mind if I take this noose off?”

With a laugh, I reply, “Of course not.”

Leaving it to hang down loosely around his neck, he then undoes the two top buttons of his shirt. Staring, I find the dip at the base of his neck strangely erotic. I swallow hard, forcing myself to look away before I start to fixate on the smooth skin of his collarbone that I just got a peek off. Too late. I’m totally staring until we’re rudely interrupted… A waitress approaches. She eyes him with a smile.

He looks to me. “What would you like to drink?”

“Maybe a beer since the place kind of calls for it.”

“I love a girl who’ll drink a beer,” he says, eyes twinkling.

“You choose which kind though. I’m not a beer connoisseur.”

“Two Guinness.” He swivels in his chair toward me. “It’s a solid beer, heavy. Too much?”

“I think I’ll manage.” I lean back in the chair, feeling the weight of the day start to lift away.

“I’m glad I ran into you.”

Our drinks arrive, wordlessly. The waitress has set her sights on someone else, Austin not reciprocating the way she wants. I like that he doesn’t. I shouldn’t like it as much as I do,
but I do.

We both take a sip, our eyes meeting once over the edge of the pint glass. My cheeks heat and I try to play it off by saying, “I’m glad we did too.”

“Cheers.” He leans forward on his elbows tapping his glass against mine.

AUSTIN HAS ME
in stitches and it feels good to laugh this hard. We continue on a second beer as he tells me about some crazy deals he’s had to sort out in other countries when he didn’t speak the same language. There’s a lot of hand gesturing and facial expressions. He’s completely captivating. I giggle, feeling much like a schoolgirl when her crush says hi for the first time.

“You’re beautiful when you laugh.” He slaps his forehead. “I mean you’re always beautiful but especially when you laugh. I think I should stop drinking. Your lovely company mixed with alcohol is going to my head, jumbling my words. I hate to cut the night early, but we should probably go before I completely screw this up.”

“You’re not screwing up, not at all.” The smile falls from my face and I lean my elbow on the bar, tilting my head, feeling lighter altogether. “You’re doing quite the opposite, in fact.”

“You’re standards are too low, Ms. Weston.”

“Eh,” I tease, “it’s fun to slum it every now and again.”

“Ouch!” He chuckles, then adds, “Well, you’ve got my number. Feel free to call me the next time you want to slum it.”

“I will.” The air turns. It’s been nice, manageable between us, fun. But now, I want to kiss him and that makes me doubt myself. I know he likes me, but in
that
way… or just in a conquer kind of way. The man is attractive, stunningly so. He can get women without a problem, and probably dates models. Though over drinks and from what I know of him from the past, he’s never come off in a way that would make me think he’s shallow, not at all. Quite the opposite actually; his relaxed nature eases my uptight personality and makes me want to stay with him longer.