Only Trick (43 page)

“He loves
you
. I’m not condoning his behavior, but I know he loves you and his biggest fear is losing you to the reality of his past. He’s lost everything that’s mattered to him, including part of his memory.”

I hear her words, I really do. More than that, I feel her words. I know in time I’ll realize my reaction is more from pain than anger, but I’m not there yet. I’m still crumbling.

“I know.”

“He’s there, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll let you go. I love you, sweetie. I love you both, and I know you’ll get past this. Okay?”

“Thanks, Tamsen. Love you too.”

I press
End
and set my phone down, letting my eyes follow it. Trick rests his hand over mine. Just his touch squeezes my heart to the point of pain.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I need to be angry, and hurt, and irrational … just for a while.” I look up at him with tears in my eyes. “Can you give me that much?”

There’s so much pain in his eyes as he nods. “Come.” He grabs our shoes and leads me outside to the carport. He does his signature hair twist, pulls on my helmet, and I nearly cry from his touch as he palms my ass bringing me closer.

God, I need his touch.

We sail off into the warm breeze and this is exactly what I need—no words, just the comfort of his nearness that I’ve been so lonely without over the past week. With each passing mile, my arms tighten around him and I begin to feel the heaviness in my heart lifting, falling behind with the wind. Our connection is indisputable. My love for him is haunting … I’ve crossed this line and there’s no going back. We ride for what seems like hours, and I wonder if he fears the loss of my touch when we get home the way I do his.

Eventually we arrive home; we can’t run forever. Trick shuts off the engine. He removes his helmet then takes mine. As I begin to walk toward the house, he grabs my arm with a gentle hold, turning me around. His hands go straight into my hair. I close my eyes and feel his breath over my face.

“Wife.”

I release a breath and the last of my anger because I no longer need it. “Husband,” I whisper just as his lips touch mine.

I
wake alone
in our bed, nothing new. Trick held me last night. It wasn’t sexual, it was just love. We didn’t say much and
that
was the apology I needed. I asked for time and he gave it to me. Now I feel alone, and the threads that mended my heart last night threaten to break at the thought of him back in that room drawing
her
.

I close my eyes and draw in a shaky breath.

“My wife’s favorite.”

Opening my eyes, Trick walks through the door with eggs and jellied toast. A genuine, I-love-this-man grin steals my face and it feels like forever since it’s been there. Sitting up, I take the plate from him.

Swiping my finger through the jelly running off the edge of the toast, I wink at him. “
You’re
my favorite.” I lick the jelly off.

He sits in bed next to me, both of us with our backs against the headboard. “So we’re still friends?” He takes a bite of his toast.

“No. We’re BFFs and breakfast soul mates.”

He nods with a grin, and instead of the usual head shake and eye roll that accompanies my acronyms, his body relaxes. I think he needs my words as much as I needed him to bring me this breakfast in bed instead of being in the other room drawing.

“I love the way you hum when you eat your eggs and jellied toast.”

I furrow my brow. “What are you talking about?”

He chuckles. “That fact that you don’t even know you do it makes me love it that much more.”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t hum when I eat.” Taking a bite, the strangest thing happens. I hum.
Holy crap! I hum when I eat.
How have I never noticed?

Trick laughs. “My God, I love you.”

I grin, but as quickly as the moment happened it ends and our smiles fade. It’s the memory of yesterday haunting today. Our laughter only covers the pain that’s still there. After a few minutes of silence, Trick leaves the room. I continue eating my breakfast trying not to hum. My phone chimes.

Trick:
BFF?

Me:
Always

Trick:
I hurt my wife yesterday and I feel gutted inside.

I suck in a shaky breath as my eyes fill with tears.

Me:
Why?

Trick:
I wanted to protect her from my past, from the vision that has haunted me for the past week. I had to get the vision out of my head and the only way to do it was to put it on paper. I thought the woman I drew would bring it back.

Me:
Bring what back?

Trick:
My memory.

I wipe a few stray tears for him, for the demons that must haunt him. And then I shed a few more for the guilt I feel. He needed me to do what I do best—show compassion, Instead … I gut him.

Me:
Come.

He stops in the doorway. I wipe my cheeks and set my plate aside. “Tell me about her.”

His teeth dig into his bottom lip. “I don’t know how I drew her … I just did. She’s so familiar, yet I don’t remember her.”

I nod and take a deep swallow. “Why did you draw her naked?” I whisper. The words hurt.

His face pulls tight into a pained expression. “It’s just the vision I had. I couldn’t put clothes on her … she wasn’t wearing any.” His eyes meet mine. “I know how painful this must be for you. It means I was with her … like that.”

I laugh, eyes still dripping a few tears. “It’s so stupid. I’m jealous of a drawing.” Shaking my head, I continue to laugh at the absurdity of my jealousy. “She had you when I wanted you. She took away my time with you. Hell, I was jealous of myself when I thought you were spending all that time drawing me.”

Trick moves to the bed and pulls me on his lap so I’m straddling his legs. “I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to draw you.” He rubs his nose against mine, sliding his hands up the back of my satin nightgown. “I’ll always
want
you.” He kisses my lips with reverence. “I want you now.” His hands slide around until his thumbs brush over my nipples. “Can I have my wife … now?”

My heavy eyelids close as I nod.

*

Two days later
my BFF texts me. He says he’s too afraid to ask his wife for an hour to finish his drawing, but if she agrees to it he promises to take it into town and sell it. Less than an hour later my BFF texts me, thanking me for putting in a good word with his wife. He’s finished and ready to take it into town.

“What price do you want to put on it?” The guy at the gallery asks after he tears his eyes away from the drawing.

I see Trick getting ready to put a ridiculously low price on it.

“How about you display it for a week and take bids on it. Then sell it to the highest bidder when the week is up.”

The guy looks back down at the drawing, shaking his head. “You really drew this?”

Trick chuckles. “Yes.” He points to the corner. “And that’s my signature.”

The guy nods once.

“Five hundred, tops,” Trick says as we get in the car.

I fasten my seatbelt. “Five grand, minimum.”

He raises an eyebrow at me. “Shall we make it interesting?”

I slide my sunglasses down my nose, looking at him over the frames. “What did you have in mind?”

“I win, you watch
the
video with me … naked.”

“The security video?” My eyes go wide.

He nods with a devilish grin.

I stare, actually glare, at him then slide my glasses back up my nose. “Fine. But
when
I win you’re going to erase the footage in front of me … naked.”

Trick lets out a roaring laugh. “Deal, sexy.”

*

Normalcy … we fall
into it again even though we both know with Trick’s memory and his past lurking at every turn, our lives could change without warning. I’ve resumed my tutoring with Declan, but it’s now at our place—a compromise. Trick has started a new drawing and while he still doesn’t like to show his work until he’s done, he’s agreed to leave the door to the spare bedroom open and work on it no more than forty hours a week, equivalent to a normal job.

“The gallery just called,” I say with a soft voice as Trick concentrates on his drawing that’s facing away from me.

He glances up. “Oh yeah?”

I nod.

“And?

“I told him I didn’t want him to tell me what it went for so we can find out together when we go pick up your payment.”

He covers his drawing and rubs his palms together with greedy friction. “I should get the video on standby.”

“No, you should get ready to delete it.”

“We’ll see. Come.”

We take his bike to the gallery. Of course I’m hoping I win, not just because I want that embarrassing video of me deleted, but also because I want to prove to him that his talent is rare and worth so much more than he thinks.

“My cock’s hard just thinking about watching that video with you.” He adjusts himself as we get off the bike.

I rub my fingers along my shirt over my breasts. “My nipples are getting hard just thinking about you pressing that delete button.”

He smacks my backside. “Get in there.”

The gallery owner smiles as we walk in the door. “Bueno días!”

“Hi, we left a sketch—”

“Si, I know, I know …” he cuts me off. “I feel terrible. I really wish you would have given me longer than a week. I just know I could have gotten so much more.”

Trick bends down by my ear. “I can just see your hand slowly slipping beneath your underwear,” he whispers.

I jerk my elbow back into his stomach and smile at the owner. “It’s fine. Next time we’ll give you longer. So what did you get off this one?”

He wrinkles his nose. “Sorry, only thirty.”

I try not to deflate completely right here in front of him, but I’m just so disappointed and shocked. I assumed with Todos Santos being an artist’s haven that people around here would have a greater appreciation for something as artistically brilliant as Trick’s work.

“Now, I usually take fifty percent commission, but since I feel bad about not getting more for you, I’m only keeping forty percent this time.” He hands us an envelope.

It’s thick. I open it and count the money. “What the hell?”

“I’m sorry, señorita. I needed more time.”

“There’s eighteen thousand dollars in here!”

“Si.”

Trick grabs the envelope from me and counts the money.

“You sold his drawing for thirty
thousand
dollars?”

“Si. That’s what I said.” He looks at me with confusion etched along his forehead.

I turn and look up at Trick, wearing the smuggest grin my face has ever had. “He sold your drawing for Thirty.
Thousand.
Dollars!”

Trick looks equal parts confused and shocked, his forehead wrinkled, jaw slack, and nothing to say.

I turn back around. “Must have been a pretty wealthy person who came in. What are the chances?”

“Oh, no. I didn’t sell it here. I sold it online. That’s where most everything sells. It shipped out this morning.