Page 23 of Take This Heart
“Oh, I forgot you’d already met.”
“You were a little busy recovering from that awful accident,” Erin says. “Are you still driving?”
“Yeah, I’m back at it. Took a minute,” I admit. “I’m gonna start sobbing again,” I say, voice wobbling. “Thank you so much for coming.”
“Everything looks beautiful,” Erin says. “You should be so proud.”
Addy smiles at me and then looks at my work. “I’m blown away, Goldie. And I’m ecstatic for you.” She squeezes my hand.
I lose it all over again, loving my people so much.
And then it’s all happening at once. Strangers swarm—smiling, praising, asking questions. I answer as best I can, while part of me floats above it all, barely believing it’s real.
Then I see him.
Milo Lombardi.
He’s leaning against a marble column and looks likehe’san art installation in this museum. Dark suit, no tie, shirt collar open. His hair is a little messy, like he raked a hand through it moments ago. His gorgeous, infuriating eyes are locked on me.
The breath whooshes from my lungs.
What is he doing here?
I didn’t bite his head off the last night in Windy Harbor, and I didn’t let myself admit that I was disappointed when I woke up the next morning to find he’d already left.
The way he’s looking at me sends a chill down my arms and spine and I square my shoulders, nodding slightly at him. He just nods back and stands there, looking too sexy for his own good.
I force myself to turn back to my conversation with an older woman raving about the “emotional resonance of the hidden faces.” I nod and smile, but my body is humming, hyperaware of the weight of Milo’s eyes on me.
Minutes later, I feel him before I see him.
“Congratulations,” he murmurs, close to my ear.
I stiffen. Turn slowly.
He smiles, not a full smile, just a tilt at the corner of his mouth.
Ugh. Why is he so annoyingly charming?
“You’re full of surprises,” I say coolly.
“Thought I’d see if the rumors are true.” His eyes finally drift off of me and to my paintings. Somehow that makes me feel even more naked.
“And?”
His gaze roams over me, lingering in ways that make my skin feel too tight. “You’re better than the rumors.”
Heat rises up my neck. I loathe how easily he gets under my skin.
“You crash a lot of events you weren’t invited to, or just mine?”
His laugh is low and lazy, like he has all day to mess with me. “Last I checked, anyone was invited. And maybe I like seeing you all dressed up…”
I arch a brow. “It’s the only way you’ve seen me so far…all that’s missing this time is the rage.”
“I liked that version too,” he says, voice dropping lower.
A shiver slips down my spine.
