Ready For You (26 page)

After the kitchen, we’d moved into the office. To protect the brand-new floor, we’d laid down wall-to-wall plastic and taped it to the floorboards. Mia was not the neatest painter, and after watching her wield her paint roller like a psychopath, I didn’t trust her not to ruin the floor.
 

As I stretched my aching back and yawned from the lack of sleep, I found myself grinning. I was physically exhausted from the marathon painting, but I’d never felt better.
 

“What are you grinning about?” Mia asked, catching me mid thought.
 

“Just thinking how I feel like an eighty-year-old man, but I couldn’t be happier about it.”
 

A tender smile touched her lips. “I don’t know why we keep staying up so late. It’s not like we’re under a deadline.”
 

I nodded in agreement, but I knew why we’d stayed up into the wee hours of the night, painting and talking, when we both had jobs and responsibilities the next day. We couldn’t get enough of each other.
 

Every new minute I had with her felt like I was erasing one I’d lost.
 

I hadn’t put a single hour of overtime in at work for a month. I’d managed to get my head back in the game, and I’d started getting shit done, but I wouldn’t do more than I was required to anymore. I was now officially a retired workaholic. I’d reformed to a full-time minimalist. As soon as it reached five o’clock each day, I would practically fly out of the office. I’d cook a meal for us, or we’d run out for something down the street, and then we’d be back at the house, painting. I’d edge the walls with a paintbrush and listen as she spoke. She’d roll the paint up and down the wall, paint flying everywhere, and finally talk about her life.
 

At last, I had a rough outline of the life she’d had after me. I could at least picture her sitting in a classroom at the small private college she’d attended in Oregon. I had a vision now of her graduating and moving to Atlanta to begin her career.
 

She’d told me about some of her friends and how much she missed them. I’d suggested we take a trip there and visit, but she’d immediately turned me down.
 

Excitedly, she’d said,
It’s okay. I’d rather go do something else. We should go to the beach!
 

She’d opened up to me, yet I still felt she was hiding pieces of her life, and I didn’t know why.
 

I looked around the half-painted room with boxes piled high and a small desk in the center.
 

“What are you going to do with this room?” I asked.

Mia surveyed the space as she turned. “I think I’m going to finally set up that clunker of a computer I have and use it to enroll in a few courses.”

“As in college courses?”

She smiled and nodded.

“What are you going to take?” I asked, full of happy anticipation for her.

“I don’t know yet, but I know I don’t want to work in the hospital for the rest of my life, and I definitely don’t want to go back to accounting.”

“Get your teaching credential,” I said suddenly.

“What?”
 

“It was always your dream to teach. Don’t give up on that,” I urged.

“But what would I teach?” she asked.
 

“Teach music. You’d be great at that.”
 

“I don’t know,” she answered quietly.
 

She would be an amazing teacher. She was patient, encouraging, and loving. I knew the past kept her from doing what she loved, but we were learning to move on, and I wanted to see her happy.
 

“Oh, I’m supposed to ask you,” she said moments later. “Leah and Declan are hosting an end-of-the-summer party at their house next weekend. They wanted to know if we could go?”

I turned with my brush in hand and asked in an amused tone, “So, now that you two are chummy, I don’t even get a call?”

“Did you just use the word
chummy
? Maybe you weren’t too far off with that eighty-year-old comment!”
 

“You better take that back,” I warned, holding my paintbrush out toward her as I advanced.
 

She backed away and laughed. “You wouldn’t!”
 

“Oh, don’t tempt me, Mia.”
 

I could see the mischief in her eyes seconds before she turned to dart away from me. I reached a hand out to pull her into my grasp, catching her easily.
 

“No!” she squealed as I dangled the paintbrush over her.
 

“Take it back.” I laughed.
 

She looked at the brush and squirmed in my grip. “Sam will attack you. He’ll defend me.”
 

I looked over at Sam, who was looking at us with upturned ears and a waggling tail.

“Yep, he looks ferocious.”

I thought about giving her a last chance, but now that I’d started the game, I really wanted to finish it. Taking my brush that was covered in a lovely shade of steel gray, I ran it down the length of her arm.
 

“No, Garrett!” she yelled, trying to get a hold of the brush.
 

My strength was no match for hers, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get me to let go of her.
 

Suddenly, my hand went slack around the brush as her hand found its way to the front of my shorts. She palmed me, rubbing her fingers up and down, and I grew harder with each touch. As her hand reached around to grip me properly, I let go of the brush, splashing paint all over my legs. Mia yelled in triumph. I’d been duped, and now, I was covered in paint while sporting a rock-hard boner.
 

“You’ll pay for that!”
 

She laughed and shouted as we both dove for control of the brush which had landed somewhere around my ankles. In the end, I was the victor and had Mia pinned to the ground. . Straddling her, I dangled the brush in the air above her while trying to decide the best punishment.

“Now, where shall I begin?”

“You’re seriously not going to paint me, are you?” She wiggled beneath me, still hoping to win back the brush.
 

“Keep squirming, baby. I like it. Yes, I think I am going to paint you…but not with a brush.”

I dropped the brush on the ground and reached for the tray of paint Mia had been using. I pulled it closer and dipped my index finger into the gray liquid. I lifted her shirt.
 

“Take it off,” I instructed.
 

A little less resistant now, she complied. With a flick of my fingers, I unsnapped the front of her bra, exposing her breasts.
 

“You’re not going to paint on my boobs, are you?” She laughed.
 

I gave her a wolfish grin but said nothing. I wasn’t going to paint that specific area. I just enjoyed the view.
 

Her stomach sucked in as the cool paint made contact with her skin. I trailed my finger down to make a straight line. I got more paint and repeated this process until I spelled the word
mine
across her abdomen.
 

Her lips quirked up as her eyes raked over my creation. “Possessive much?”
 

“Fuck yes. I’d tattoo that on your ass if you’d let me.”

“I’m not sure my ass would be the best place. No one would ever see it but you, so it wouldn’t do much good.”
 

“Good point.” I grinned. “Let’s just get it tattooed across your forehead. I’m sure it won’t be weird.”

She snorted, which gave way to a full-out laughing attack. The sound was infectious, and I couldn’t help but join her.
 

“So, do I get to paint you?” she asked.
 

“Only if you stay half-naked.”
 

“Deal, but you have to lose your shirt, too.”

I let her up as I removed my shirt, and we switched positions. Her legs straddled my hips, and I groaned as her body made contact with the part of me that was aching for her. Her delicate fingers dipped into the paint, and she studied me as if she were looking at a canvas. She bent forward, and I felt her breasts brush against my chest as she kissed a path down my body. She worked her way back up my stomach, tracing the lines of my abs with the back of her hand. She left traces of paint everywhere her hand touched.
 
It was like a Mia roadmap.
 

Her eyes settled on my chest, and the paint made contact with my skin. I watched her trace the letters of her name over my heart. As soon as her finger lifted after the last curl of the A, I fisted my hands in her hair and devoured her in a fiery kiss. She instantly responded, moaning into my mouth, as our tongues moved together.
 

We couldn’t shed our clothes fast enough, uncaring of the wet paint covering our bodies. As we came together and my body moved in hers, the only thing I cared about was making sure she never left again.
 

Mia hadn’t needed to paint her name on my heart. She already owned it. She always had.
 

Chapter Twenty-One

~Garrett~

“Wake up,” Mia whispered in my ear.
 

Sleep gave way, and my eyes opened. I groaned, burying my head in the pillow.
 

Her faint laughter made me smile. Fingers made their way up my bare back, and I felt her lean over me.

“Hey, wake up.”

“No.” I yawned and reached around to pull her into my arms, so I could go back to sleep.
 

Soft lips touched mine, and I opened my eyes to find her smiling at me.
 

“Why are you awake? It’s the weekend. Weekends are made for sleeping,” I said. Giving her naked body an appreciative glance, I added, “And fucking.”
 

She gave me a slightly amused expression and rolled her eyes. “I’m hungry. You need to feed me.”
 

“Why is it my turn?” I grumbled.

“Because I made breakfast yesterday. It’s only fair. Plus, I suck at it.”

“Can’t get out of bed. Too warm.”
 

I pulled her closer and nuzzled my head against her shoulder. I didn’t want to leave this spot, even for food. We could order food eventually. I’d be perfectly happy being naked with Mia during the entire two days I had off. I couldn’t remember the last night I’d spent at my apartment. Every time I had gone back there to grab clothes, it’d felt small and confining. I’d race through my drawers, pulling out whatever my hands touched first, just so I could get out of there quickly.
 

“It’s summer. That’s a horrible excuse.”

“I just don’t want to.”
 

Her leg slid up mine.
 
That got my attention.
 

I lifted my head and found her giving me her best rendition of the pouty face and I knew I was going to cave.

“Okay, fine! But we’re taking a shower first—a really long, sexy shower. Then, you’re making me coffee.”
 

She agreed, and I carried her from the bed into the bathroom where we spent much too long doing things other than washing.
 

I was a big fan of shared showers.

Leaving Mia to dry off in the bathroom, I went into the bedroom to find her lotion. I’d made a habit of always being around when she put it on, so I could take over, but I had no idea where she stored it when I wasn’t slathering it all over her body. She always pulled it out of some magical female hiding spot, and I had yet to figure out where that was.
 

Not wanting to bother her, I checked the top of her dresser and the highest drawer, knowing she stored a few things in there. Then, I looked in the top of her antique vanity. Finally, I decided it must be in the nightstand. Pulling the drawer open, I found it lying on top of a stack of old photos.
 

The lotion suddenly forgotten, I picked up the large pile and started thumbing through. There were pictures of us from every single school dance, football games, and even the two of us with my parents.
 

I squeezed my eyes shut at the sight of my father. I had finally found solace through my turbulent journey with Mia, and he wasn’t here to see it. He’d loved her like a daughter and struggled when she left so suddenly. When I’d refused to give answers, he’d retreated from me for a while. I thought he’d assumed something close to the truth, or he had known it from my mother and had been hurt that I didn’t come to him.

Not wanting to lose myself in mourning again, I moved on and enjoyed seeing the younger versions of ourselves staring back at me.
 

After another couple of goofy dance pictures, I stumbled on something else entirely, and I froze.
 

It was an ultrasound picture.
 

I’d seen the many Clare had done throughout her two pregnancies, so I knew exactly what it was the moment my eyes settled on the grainy black-and-white image.
 

I immediately felt rage at the thought of Mia becoming pregnant with someone else’s child, but I stilled the instant I saw the date. It was almost exactly eight years ago.

A tidal wave of confusion hit me, and I couldn’t look away from the tiny image in front of me.

So many ultrasounds look like little blobby lima beans or blurry nothings, but this?
 
I could see her.
 

My child, my daughter.

Why does she have this?

 
“Hey, am I going to get breakfast anytime soon?” Mia said jokingly as she walked out of the bathroom.
 

I heard the gasp of air fill her lungs seconds before our eyes collided.
 

Regret, fear, and despair plagued her beautiful features, and I immediately wanted to soothe them away, but I had to know.

“What is this?”

“An ultrasound of our daughter,” she answered quietly, confirming what I’d already figured out.

“I don’t understand.”
 

She pulled the ties of her robe tighter and joined me on the bed. I hated that she felt insecure around me now. I didn’t want her to feel that way, but I needed her to explain.