Taking the Plunge (13 page)

Thatcher dropped his brush then looked at the painting. He put his hands in his pocket
s while he stared, saying nothing for a long time. “It’s—amazing.”

She felt the same way. Their styles were so different and it brought the painting to life. They had molded their souls together, combining the
ir lives onto a single sheet of paper. The revelation made her shake. It was the most intimate act she had ever committed with another person. Her soul was laid bare, easy to see, nowhere to hide. He had done the same, showing her his most vulnerable side. Together, they made something beautiful, wordlessly.

“Can I keep it?” he asked.

“It’s your painting.”

“No. It’s
our
painting.”

She looked at him, see
ing the intensity in his eyes. The sight was so powerful, she looked away, unable to hold his gaze.

“
I’ll put it in the living room so I can see it every day. But you’re welcome to have it when you want it.”

“We could share.
”

“Yeah.
Take it home whenever you want it. Just bring it back after a while.”

“Like a child of divorced parents?”

He laughed. “I guess.” He placed his arm around her waist and pulled her close. “Thank you for helping me.”

Feeling his hand touch her made her stop breathing. “You don’t need my help,” she said as she stepped away.

He backed off, sensing her vulnerability. “Lunch?”

“Sure.”

“Let’s go. I’ll whip us up some sandwiches.”

She followed him into the kitchen a
nd watched him prepare the meal. When she looked down at her outfit she realized she was covered in spots of paint. “I’m sorry that I ruined your clothes.”

“You didn’t. Now they’
re better. You can wear those whenever you paint with me.”

“I get to paint all day, my boss makes me lunch, this is the best job ever.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad you feel that way.” He placed the sandwiches on the table along with two glasses of juice.

“You never eat out?” she asked as she picked up the sandwich.

He shrugged. “I don’t care for it. I prefer to make my own food. Everything is so greasy and oily, packed with fat and preservatives.”

“Is that why you’re in such good shape?”

“You think I’m in good shape?” he said with a smile.

She remembered seeing his naked chest the night t
hey met on the beach. She was upset at the moment so she didn’t gawk at him, but she remembered the lines of muscle and definition that carved his torso. She ate her sandwich and avoided the question.

“You are what you eat. I try to make sure that everything is nutritious and healthy. And I surf every morning for an hour. I guess I’m in good shape.”

“So you don’t eat sweets?”

“I don’t care for them.”

“I’m so jealous.”

“Why? People usually think I’m weird.”

“I would be so much thinner if I didn’t eat cookies and junk all the time.”

“Why would you want to be thinner? Your body is perfect.”

Her cheeks blushed, not expecting such a comment.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I know it’s hard for you to take a compliment.”

“It’s not. It’s just—hard to take them from you.”

“Why?”

“For obvious reasons.”

He looked at her and the silent conversation passed between them. He finally broke their connection and finished his sandwich. “
I’m going to an art convention in San Francisco this weekend. I want you to come with me.”

Her mouth dropped. “What?”

He looked at her. “I need my secretary. You’re supposed to help me select the right art pieces, set up my schedule, arrange my art work to be displayed in the right place. I need you.”

“Uh, I just started.”

“I realize that. I’m not expecting you to have everything down right away. I’ll train you.”

“But, I’ll be alone with you all weekend?”

“Yes. What’s wrong with that?”

There were a lot of things wrong with that.

Thatcher stared at her. “I told you that’s what the job entailed when I offered it to you.”

“I know…I just didn’t expect to attend a trip so soon.”

“They happen pretty often. All your expenses will be paid for.”

She ran her fingers through her hair, breathing through the stress that consumed her body.

He stared at her, seeing her flustered expression. His eyes were glued to her face, seeing the confusion and turmoil burning in her eyes. There was nothing she could hide from him. Silent conversations always passed between them. “Nancy, I’m not going to do anything. I gave you my word. So if you’re afraid, it’s because you don’t trust yourself. It has nothing to do with me. Better yet, you could dump that piece of shit boyfriend of yours and go for what you really want.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, averting her gaze. The dilemma weighed heavily on her shoulders. A trip like this was exactly what she wanted. It was a great opportunity to meet other artists, get her name out there,
and learn the secrets of the trade.

“We lea
ve Friday afternoon.”

14

“Ripcurl sponsored me. I get all the gear, the clothes, and I get paid,” Derek said. “It’s awesome. There’s a competition in Australia that I’m going to in a few months—all expenses paid.”

Nancy ran her fingers in the sand, drawling small circles. The heat of the beach made her feel warm despite the coldness that grasped her heart.

“Nancy?”

“Huh?”

“Were you listening to me?” Derek asked.

“I’m sorry. I—my mind was elsewhere.”

He stared into her eyes, gauging her features. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.”

“I know you better than that.”

“My boss invited me to an art convention in San Francisco.”

“And why are you upset about that?”

“Well, I’ll be with him the whole w
eekend. That doesn’t bother you?”

“No. Thatcher isn’t like that. He knows I’m dating you. He’s a very respectable guy. He won’
t give you any trouble.”

“You know him?”

“We have mutual friends. My surfing buddies know him pretty well. But none of us knew he was an artist. We just thought he was a bum like the rest of us.”

She thought of his beautiful home and meticulous housework. “He’s definitely not a bum.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and held her close. “You’ll have a great time. It’s your greatest dream. You’re living it.”

“I know,” she said as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

“How do you like working with him?”

Her cheeks blushed. She was grateful Derek couldn’t see her face. “I like it a lot.”

“You’re learning a lot?”

“Yeah.
And it’s easy and good money.”

“I know. I wish I worked there,” he said with a laugh. “You miss the aquarium?”

“No. I just miss Andre.”

“We should spend time with him. Go on a double date.”

“He’s dating somebody who’s still in the closet.”

“Oh. We can still hang out with him. He’s a cool guy.”

“He’s very sweet.”

Derek kissed her on the forehead. “I’ve missed you this week.”

“I missed you too.”

“Between school and work, you’re so busy. And now you’re going to be gone all weekend.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It’s okay. I’ll just surf more. Practice makes perfect, right?”

“Yeah.”

He brushed his lips against hers then kissed her. “Thank you for giving me another chance, Nancy. You make me happy.”

Her eyes softened. “Yeah.”

“And I won’t let you down.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I hope so.”

His eyes fell. “I understand if you don’t trust me. I’ll gain it back eventually. I’m willing to be as patient as you want.”

“Thank you.”

“You ready to go? We can pick up some tacos then watch a movie at my place.”

“Okay.”

He stood up then pulled her to a stand. They grabbed their food then went back to the apartment. After they ate their food in bed, they watched a movie on TV. Derek lied beside her in his boxers. His hand moved down her back then through her hair, making her skin prickle. He stared at her lips for a long time before he moved in, pressing his mouth over hers. His tongue slipped into her mouth then swirled around, exciting her like he always did. Her hands ran up and down his arms, feeling the muscle underne
ath. He moved over her, preparing to move inside. He ripped open a condom and rolled it on his shaft. Nancy suddenly felt the panic descend. Thatcher’s face popped in her mind, his beautiful eyes and his thin lips. She couldn’t get him out of her head. He wouldn’t go away.

“I’m—I’m not ready,” she said, putting her hand against his chest. She didn’t look him in the eye, hiding from his sight.

He stared at her then pulled off the condom. She expected him to pressure her or get upset but he didn’t. He lay beside her and pulled her to his chest, drifting his hands across her skin. He kissed her on the forehead.

“That’s fine, Nancy.”

“You aren’t mad?”

“No. I’ll wait until you’re ready.”

She breathed a sigh of relief while she lied beside him, knowing she couldn’t stop thinking about Thatcher. The idea made her sick to her stomach. She closed her eyes and tried to think about something else.

“Well, we should get going.”

“Why?”

“We’re meeting at the beach, remember?”

“Oh yeah.”

They wer
e playing football with people from school, something to get their minds off their classes and exams. Sydney organized the whole thing. They got dressed then left the house.

On the ride to the beach, they didn’t discuss the awkward moment they had. Nancy tried not
to think about it. She felt horrible for rejecting Derek, but she couldn’t do through with it either, not while she was thinking of someone else. She hoped it would go away.

When they reached the sand, Coen and Henry were throwing the ball around while the girls stood together, chattering.

“About time,” Coen said.

“You’re one to talk,” Derek with a laugh. “If you guys weren’t fucking all the time, maybe you would be on time to everything.”

Sydney blushed at his words.

“So, how are we doing the teams?” Henry asked. “I want to be on Ren’s team.”

Coen rolled his eyes. “Can you be separated for even a moment?”

“That’s not why,” Henry said with a laugh. “She’s really good.”

Ren smiled proudly.

Laura raised her hand.
“Just so everyone knows, I totally suck.”

“Me too,” Andre
said.

Coen sighed. “We don’t have even teams.”

“Can I play?”

They all turned to see Thatcher standing there, his hands in his pockets.

Nancy felt her heart race in her chest. She wasn’t expecting him to be there.

“Thanks for coming,”
Derek said. “The guys told you?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Word spread.”

Derek embraced him with a handshake, and Thatcher hesitated before he took it.

Nancy never felt more awkward in her life.

“Damn, who is that?” Andre whispered. “He’s fucking hot.”

“I got dibs,” Laura said quickly.

Nancy looked at her, hate burning in her eyes. The girls walked over to him, and even though Nancy didn’t want to, she followed.

Laura twirled her hair and batted her eyes. “So, how old are you?”

“Twenty-five,” he answered.

Sydney smiled at him. “You paint
good,” she said awkwardly.

Coen grabbed her arm and pulled her away. “You already married me.
Too late.”

Thatcher didn’t look at the girls, his eyes on Nancy. “How are you?”

“Good. How are you?” Nancy said.

“You two know each other?” Laura asked.

“He’s my boss,” Nancy answered.

“You’re so lucky,” she whispered. She turned back to Thatcher. “Are you seeing anyone? You probably have a girlfriend, huh?”

He met Laura’s gaze. “I don’t have a girlfriend, but I am seeing someone.”

Nancy raised an eyebrow.

Thatcher caught the look and stared at her. “It’s complicated. We’re together but she’s having a hard time accepting it.”

“Why?” Laura asked. “What is there to be confused about?” She looked him up and down, eyeing his body.

“I’m still trying to figure that out. Excuse me.” He turned and walked to the guys. Nancy watched him go, feeling her heart slow the farther away he moved.

“So, we got even teams now,” Derek said. “Let’s play.” He walked over to Nancy and grabbed her hand. “You’re on my team, baby.” He pulled her face to his and kissed her. When they broke apart, she looked at Thatcher. His face was passive but she could see the explosion of jealousy behind his eyes.

Henry walked to Thatcher and extended his hand. “I’m Henry. Thanks for picking Nancy for the competition.”

“It wasn’t a competition. The choice was clear.”

“So, what position do you want to play?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Cool.”

They started the game. The guys were competitive about it and the girls tried their best to understand what was going on. Every time Nancy tried to get open so Derek could throw the b
all at her, Thatcher was on her. He stared into her eyes, anticipating her every move before she made them. His hand would grab her arm and light her on fire. The serious look in his eyes always made her step back. When they were aggressive this way, she felt her heart race. The electricity and heat burned between them. It didn’t matter that everyone was around them. It was like they were alone.

Thatcher found any reason to touch her. He grabbed her waist, her arm, her shoulder, but he never hurt her. His touch was always light but assertive. He was the gentlest man she had ever met. Even when they were running he managed to hold her back without invading her space. After a while, she stopped trying to run, letting him stand in front of her, staring her down with a heated gaze.

Thatcher blocked her, locking his eyes to hers. “Break up with him.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Well, I’m having it. You don’t talk about it because you repress it. You know I’m right. I’m better for you.”

She tried to ignore him.

“Why do you stay with him? Just give me that.”

“He’s changed.”

“What does that matter? He still treated you like shit. It amazes me that you don’t understand your worth. A more beautiful person I’ve never met.”

She tried to run away but he blocked her again. The game went on around them but neither seemed to care.

He stared her down, boring his emotions through his stare. “You can’t run away from me.”

“Stop.”

He stepped back, his hands in the air. He stopped covering her and ran to Laura, choosing to block her. Laura seemed thoroughly happy with his presence. Nancy noticed that Thatcher never touched Laura, just positioning his body in front of her.

When the game was over, they sat in a circle on the beach, opening the ice chest and passing around beers and water. Derek had his arm wrapped around Nancy’s shoulder and his hand touched her arm gently, being affectionate like he usually was.

Whenever Nancy looked across the circle, Thatcher was watching her. He sat next to Laura, who was chattering away and talking his ear off. He didn’t seem interested but he was polite anyway. Everyone seemed to think Thatcher was the coolest person there because of his success as a famous artist. It seemed like he didn’t like the recognition. Now she understood why he didn’t mention it to her beforehand.

Thatcher’s gaze bore into hers. He didn’t try to hide his stare. He was blatant and emotional about it. When she loo
ked into his eyes, she saw the painting they created together. She saw the way she looked wearing his baggy clothes. The meal they shared together at the table. She saw his desire and his obsession with her.

An image of her sitting in his office, the
sunlight stretching across the floor from the windows, was in the center of his mind. She was wearing nothing, staring at a painting he created. Spots of paint were on her skin, touching her shoulder and the small of her back. They were handprints, evidence of large hands that had touched her. Trails of lips went down her neck and across her shoulder. She was a human painting, his muse, his creation. He obsessed over her like a work of art. Unable to hold the emotion in his gaze, she looked away.

Thatcher stood up and left the beach, not saying goodbye to anyone.