Page 122 of Pieces of Me

I break off when Maggie laughs. “Yep. So you could see for yourself how insanely talented you are. She was blown away, Jamie, not just with the vases themselves, but with your paintwork. She said she’s never seen anything so delicate andperfect.”

“Shut your pretty little face right now!” I look between Maggie and Holden, finishing on her. “There is no client with a check, is there?”

“Oh, there is,” she’s quick to say. “Holden had to research how much to sell them for since they’re one-of-a-kind, handcrafted, original Jamie-née-Taylor-future-Eastwood pieces.”

“Stop it!”

“He thought he’d have to negotiate, so he doubled the price of the ones he saw online. She didn’t even try to barter. She just wanted them.”

“This is insane,” I laugh out, my heart thumping against my ribs.

“It’s kind of a big deal… peoplewantingto pay money for your art! You deserve it more than anyone.”

I look back at the shop—where Holden’s now pulling open the door. I wind down my window, my smile unrefined as I wait for him. He doesn’t greet me in words. He simply hands me a check forhundredsof dollars. “Holy shit,” I whisper, looking up at him.

“Lunch is on you,” he states, all cool and relaxed as if he has no idea what he’s just done for me.

I once told him that art wasn’t my passion, that I didn’tloveit, but over time, he changed that by encouraging me, by reminding me of how talented I was, howgifted.

It’s not a surprise, I suppose, especially considering myartspoke to him before I ever did…

51

Jamie

“So, what are you going to do with the check?” Holden asks, smiling to one side as he watches me from across the booth at the diner.

“Wedding or travel fund, probably.”

He groans, rolling his eyes as he leans forward. “Jamie, you’re officially a professional artist or creator or whatever. You should splurge your first paycheck on something completely useless and ridiculous like most normal twenty-three olds!”

“What would I splurge on? I literally have everything I want.”

“What do you have left on your list?”

I try to hide my grin, my excitement, as I grab my phone and pull up the list of Favorite Childhood Memories. I go through the items, one by one, until I find the perfect splurge. “Learning to do flips on a trampoline.”

“Hell to the fuck yes, babe! That’s perfect.” Now he’s onhisphone, tapping away. For minutes, I just watch him, watch the boy I love finding new ways to show me he loves me in return. “Ordered. It’ll be here in a few days.”

“I haven’t even cashed the check yet!” I laugh out.

“Whatever.” He shrugs. “We have the money from Esme’s house… well,youhave the money from the house. Mine’s all gone.” He fake weeps into his hands, and I giggle in response. He used the money to pay off his student loans and whatever was left over, he put back into the business. Construction on the new greenhouse starts next week.

“Speaking of money,” I say, and he lowers his hands to reach over and cover mine.

He says, completely straight-faced, “Don’t worry, I have a sugar mama on the side, so I won’t be dipping into your funds.”

“Well, shit, babe. You think she’d pay double if I were involved?”

He pushes my hand away. “One,” he says, pointing a finger in the air. “You’re out of your goddamn mind if you think I’d share you with anyone. And two—” he adds a finger to the one already up—“you’re supposed to be jealous.”

I roll my eyes dramatically. “I don’t know how many times you have to hear this, but your dick activity does not define your worth. But, for argument’s sake, how much is she paying you and what’s my cut for sharing?”

He scowls at me, his head dipping low, causing a strand of hair to fall over his brow, landing just above those green-green eyes I love so much.

“Why are you so hot?” I deadpan.

He mumbles, glaring at me, “Helps when I need to sell my body.”

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