Page 81 of Broken

“Yes, it was recommended to me as a form of therapy. I didn’t begin drawing until I was in my late thirties. I had a family, a husband and beautiful daughter. Unfortunately, I lost both of them.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” I touch her arm. She lifts her hand and rests it on mine, patting it a few times in thanks. A melancholy look briefly enters her eyes, but it’s fleeting and she smiles again.

“Who knew I could draw,” she says. “But it ignited a passion. I’ve never lost that need to be creating.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Garrett. He is sitting on a bench, watching us with an intense look on his face. I can’t find it within me to be mad at him. Ziva is amazing, far too incredible a person for me to regret meeting her.

“Well, that is beautiful,” Ziva says peering at my sketches. “And a perfect rendition of something incredibly easy on the eye,” she giggles like a young girl.

Despite my smile at her infectious laugh, my cheeks flush. I’ve drawn Garrett sitting on the bench. With the building in the background, but there is no mistaking who the focus of the picture is.

“We met five years ago,” she says. “This is the first time he’s brought a woman to meet me. It’s not like him.”

“I can believe that,” I smirk.

“You know him well,” she laughs softly. “Well, he is an acquired taste, that much is true. But at the heart of him, he is a good man. I’ve enjoyed chatting with you, you should come and see me again.”

“I’d like that.”

As I pack up my things, a couple of people come over to browse her pictures. I don’t want to impede any sales, but I also can’t let Garrett see this picture. When I try to give it to her, she shoos me away, then waves to Garrett. He gets up from the bench and heads toward us. If she makes me show him right now, I’ll fall through the floor.

When she tells him to watch out for me, I roll it up and shove it in my purse. Ziva watches us with a knowing smile on her face as we head away.

If Garrett sees it, he pretends not to.

Chapter Nineteen

Garrett

What in the ever-loving fuck am I doing? I had a plan, a firm plan about how the night was gonna go. I hate the idea of it, because it feels sleazy. I’m planning to use her to get what I want.

No matter how many times I tell myself I’m doing it to protect her. This plan is fucked up.

I’m a shit person for coming up with it, never mind trying to enact it. It doesn’t mean I have to fuck her again to get access toCaleb’s apartment. What other reason could I have for going up there, given the type of relationship I have with Calli?

That was the premise for this. And I convinced myself getting her into bed again is a perk and she’ll welcome it as much as I will. There is the complication of her seeing it as more than what it is, but I am willing to take that risk.

Bringing her to meet Ziva was supposed to be a way to distract her. To show her what she is missing by blowing off her passion for architecture and creating. It pisses me off she is willing to walk away from something she was so good at, all because of the shit her ex pulled.

It was tough on her, I get it. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to be arrested by the FBI. Or have her reputation destroyed. People focus on the bad of a sensational situation like that. No one remembers the innocent party who walks away broken.

So, two birds with one stone, right?

Except…

When I left them to talk and for Ziva to work her magic on Calli, I sat on a bench watching her. Initially I wandered up and down the market, taking it all in, enjoying my solitude while being in a crowd. Then I grabbed a bottle of water and found a place to sit.

And became enthralled. The look of concentration on her face while she draws spoke to me in a way watching a woman shouldn’t. Damn right she is sexy as hell and I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together, even though I do everything within my power not to show it.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her. The way her blonde hair would occasionally spill over her shoulder and onto the page, how casually and unhurried she pushed it back behind her ear. The way she studied the building she was drawing. It surprised me she didn’t spot me sooner.

Ziva did. That woman is more insightful than anyone I’ve ever met. She got her first tattoo when she was sixty-one, which was how we met. Something about her kind eyes and easy-going attitude drew me to her and our friendship grew from there.

Now as I walk along beside Calli, I can’t stop thinking this is a bad idea. I should figure out another way to get back into Caleb’s apartment. The problem is, I’ve been there enough times now that I could be recognized. Especially by Calli if she catches me.

The drawing she did while sitting with Ziva is sticking out the top of her purse. I’m dying to see what she drew. Calli eyes my cup, so I lead her to a stall selling drinks. She gets a boba tea which is the color of toxic waste, and I grab another water.

Calli takes a sip through her straw. The suck and pull of her lips gives me ideas. Ones I am currently trying to convince myself against.

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