Page 123 of Clashing
“What’s wrong with them getting a treat? They’re good dogs!”
“What am I going to do with you?”
I winked and flitted to the salad I needed to finish. “Whatever you want as soon as we’re done with dinner.”
“Fucking tease.” He swatted my ass, and I squealed. “Danny called and asked if I could install the new grill tomorrow.” He pecked my cheek, then sat on a stool across from me. “I’m assuming you wanna come sit with him while I do that?”
“Yeah, I talked to him already. Oh, and I have to go out of town in two weeks.” I dumped my chopped cucumber, carrot, tomato, and onion into the bowl of lettuce. “Art show with René. I’m not in it. I’m helping out.”
Ryker leaned forward on his forearms, and I caught my lip between my teeth. He made the simplest actions sexy. “For how long?”
“Four days. It’s an extended weekend thing. I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Can I come with you?”
Butterflies tickled my stomach. “You want to?”
“I do.”
“I thought art wasn’t your thing unless it’s mine.”
“I want to go to be with you.”Melt.“Besides, I’m appreciating it more thanks to you.”
Cheeks warming, I tossed the salad. I’d never been with someone so supportive of my passions. When I moved in, Ryker took the week off to renovate an art studio with fantastic natural lighting so I had my own quiet space to work. It was my favorite place in the house.Next to our bedroom, that is.
“I’d love for you to come.”
His lips twitched into a half-smile that never failed to weaken me. “Yeah?”
My blush intensified. The hold he had on me continued to grow, blossoming into something unexpected. My muse. When I showed René my drawings of him—approved by Ryker first, of course—she gasped and told me this was it. This was the masterwork she knew I had in me. Where I poured raw emotions, vulnerability, pain, and healing into every stroke. She was hosting a show for me in a few months. The subject: my own personal muse.
That muse only tried to distract me a couple times before dinner, but he couldn’t resist my cooking. To be fair, I couldn’t resist his either. He was a fabulous cook. We took turns and technically tonight was his turn, but I wanted to show support for his first day in group therapy.
The nice thing about living with Ryker was he couldn’t stand things to not be neat, but he didn’t hound me about it. He did it himself. The second we finished eating, he jumped up to do dishes. He always did, but I’d never been one to sit around. We fell into an unspoken agreement of him washing dishes and me drying and putting them away.
Once we were done, I dragged him to the bedroom to make him help me pick a dress for an art show the next day. He sat on the bed and pouted like a child with his arms crossed.
“You said I could do whatever I wanted with you after dinner,” he grumbled.
“Stop being such a baby. The more you cooperate, the less time it’ll take.” I held a black dress on a hanger against my body. “What about this one?”
“Scarlett, they all look good. It doesn’t matter what you wear, you’ll look fucking gorgeous. Pick any damn dress.” He patted his lap. “Then get your ass over here.”
I posted a hand on my hip. “You’re not helping.”
“Why are you asking me? Ask Hannah.”
“Okay, fine.” I lifted a shoulder. “I’ll call Hannah and ask her to come over right now, and she’ll probably have a drink.” I hung the dress in the closet and retrieved my phone from my pocket. “Meaning she’ll probably stay late. Maybe even spend the night. We won’t be aloneallnight.”
He leapt off the bed and stole my phone. “I like the black one.”
“Which black one?”
“The—” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The second one.”
I narrowed my eyes. “The second dress was green.”
“The second black dress.”
