Page 32 of Forbidden Impulses

When the cab pulls up to Chloe's gallery and studio, he looks at the closed doors before turning in his seat tolook at me. His eyes are filled with warmth, so obviously I'm not masking my heartache too well.

"You sure this is where you want to be, love? The place is closed."

I smile in response before offering him a couple of notes to cover the fare. "Yeah. She's waiting for me. Thank you so much. Have a wonderful day further."

He takes my money before handing me a card. "If there's anything I know, it's when a woman is hurting. You take this here card. If you need anything, you gimme a call, alright?"

My lower lip trembles with unshed emotion. "Why would you do that?"

"Because you remind me of my daughter. Plus, my wife would kill me if she knew I left a waif like yourself alone with no help. Use my number." He nods at his hand still holding the card and I rush to grab it from him before pushing my way out of the cab.

With an insane amount of nerves eating at the inside of my stomach, I head around the gallery like Chloe had advised. Her staff wouldn't be opening the public-facing shop and gallery for another hour yet, so she'd told me to meet me at her small cottage around the back.

It's adorable. Everything I would have pictured an artist like her would live in. The amazing stained-glass windows that wink at you invitingly as you walk down the stone pathway overshadow the brightly colored walls.

It's like a fairytale cottage and my hands are itching to sketch it with the early afternoon sun shining down on it.

I'm not sure if Chloe was waiting for me or just happened to be looking out the window when I walked down her pathway, but before I make it to her front door,she opens it and stands there scowling at me with her hand on her hip.

"That's an awful lot of baggage for a business meeting," she says, lifting an eyebrow in question.

"Uh, yeah. I had an eventful morning. Leaving it at the lodge wasn’t an option. I'll just drop it outside while we talk, if that's okay?" I respond as I continue to push closer to her. When I finally reach Chloe's small porch, she eyes my bags before stepping aside and gesturing with her hand for me to enter.

"Can't leave them out here. Just in case one of these asshole tourists steals it or something. They leave my house alone for the most part, but some get annoyed on the days I only open in the afternoons and like to come and share their annoyance with me."

It's kind of ironic her moaning about other people's annoyance when she's so very clearly unimpressed by my visit. Pulling my bag in with me, I make my way into a cute open-plan living space that has an inviting fireplace to one side and a cute, newish kitchen on the other.

"Well, sit down. I'll get you a coffee. Unless you're one of those health nuts that doesn't do the good stuff?"

I snort at her offer and quickly agree to a cup of coffee.

This Chloe is a complete contrast to the one I'd met the other day. That Chloe was all business, but still pleasant. I think I'm faced with the artist right now, and I actually think I like this version more. She seems... real.

"I wasn't expecting to hear from you so soon. If I'm being honest, from the way you were mooning over those idiots with you, I wasn't expecting to hear from you at all," she says as she hands me a large mug of strongblack coffee.

Somehow, I'm not surprised she didn't ask about cream or sugar.

Clearing my throat, I play for some time by blowing on the hot mug before trying a sip. "Yeah. Uh. That didn't quite work out the way anyone had planned."

"Your parents disapprove?" She pushes for more info as she curls up into a large plush armchair next to the couch I'd seated myself on.

"Oh, my parents wrote me off long before I got involved with them." I shrug when both her eyebrows lift in shock, but this time she doesn't ask for more clarification.

"So you're looking for a job, I assume?" She wraps her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her knees. With her in that position, she looks much younger than her thirty-two years and suddenly way more approachable, too.

"I'm kind of looking to start fresh. A few months ago, my parents disowned me because I embarrassed them by falling for the wrong guy. My friend offered to take me in, and give me a place to stay while I got on my feet, and instead, I ended up falling for her dads. Yes, plural.” I blow out a breath and look down at the coffee so I don’t have to meet her eyes.

"Clearly, I'm a mess and need all sorts of therapy and help. So yes, I'm looking for a job. And a place to stay. But most importantly, I'm searching for somewhere to practice my art and learn who the fuck I really am."

I'm not sure where the hell the word-vomit came from, but after I let it all out, I feel so much better. Until I realize I just let all of that out to the woman I was hoping to get a job from.

Shit. Fuck.

On the verge of apologizing, I push forward in my seat so I can get up and… I don't know, fall on my knees and beg her or something, when I notice the smile she has on her face.

"You're smiling." I state the obvious, which only has her mouth widening into an even bigger grin. "I did not picture your response being a smile. It's creeping me out, if I'm honest," I share, seeing as all my sharing hasn't gotten me kicked out of her home yet.

"I am. Because honey, your honesty is so refreshing I could kiss you right now, if I wasn't afraid that would make you fall for me," she jokes.

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