Page 102 of Beautiful Exile

“You keep looking at me like that, and the only place you’re going is back to the bedroom,” Linc growled.

Heat flared between my legs. I didn’t hate that idea, but I needed to get some things done first. “I’m going to The Collective.”

Linc set the tablet down and pushed to his feet. “Why?”

“Because I need to check on things for the auction and show.” After I’d finally grabbed my phone from the studio, I found more than a few worried texts from Farah, Isaiah, and Hannah—and some annoying ones from Denver.

“Can’t Denver do that? Or whoever owns the gallery space? Shouldn’t they be helping?”

I winced and then pointed at myself.

Linc’s brows lifted. “You own The Collective.”

It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “It was my first big purchase other than Wanda.”

“Who the hell is Wanda?” Linc asked, confusion lining his features.

“My truck.”

“Good name. Fits her.” Linc moved into my space, his hand running over the side of my face. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me you own The Collective?”

I shrugged. “I don’t tell many people. My family knows. Denver, Isaiah, Farah, and Hannah. But that’s it, really.”

His roughened thumb stroked the line of my jaw. “Hates being the center of attention.”

I made a face. “People don’t need to know it’s me.”

“No, they don’t. But I think what you’ve created is pretty damn amazing. And I bet the community programs were your brainchild.”

My cheeks heated. I remembered when I’d gone to Denver with the idea. He’d thought it was a waste of time and money. I’d deflated but pushed on, and was so glad I had. Because those programs filled my cup more than anything else.

Linc dropped his head, his lips sweeping across mine. “You’re incredible.”

“Linc,” I whispered, trying not to squirm.

“Okay, too much attention. Let’s go to the gallery.”

“You don’t?—”

Linc pinned me with a hard stare. “I go where you go.”

“That means I’m gonna ogle you. You’ll just have to deal with it.”

Linc barked out a laugh. “I think I can handle it, Vicious.”

We made the trip into town in Linc’s Range Rover. I was shocked when he’d been okay with letting Brutus on the leather seats, but Linc had just leveled me with that stare and said, “It’s an SUV. I think it can handle a little dog hair.”

But that was Linc. He might have nice things, but he didn’t worship at their altar the way my dad had. He enjoyed them but didn’t protect them at all costs. And even though business clearly gave Linc a charge, he wasn’t constantly looking for more, more, more.

Linc turned into a spot a block down from The Collective. The town was already full to the brim with tourists milling about, but that wasn’t a bad thing. Hopefully, one or two would make a purchase in the gallery.

I hopped out of the SUV and moved to the back seat to hook up Brutus’s leash and let him down. Linc met me at the front of the vehicle, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. It would’ve felt like a completely normal outing if not for the squad car that had followed us into town and parked a couple of spots down.

The deputy wasn’t following us in, but he wanted to be close. That reminder of my studio and the rage had my stomach twisting. But I shoved it down. I wouldn’t let the asshole win. I refused to live in fear.

“You good?” Linc asked as we walked toward the gallery.

I looked up at him. “I’m annoyed.”

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