The Muse (32 page)

It took her a beat too long to figure out that he intended for her to bump him. She made a fist and delivered an awkward attempt, feeling stupid. “Well, thank you. She’s quite a woman.”

“If the sounds from your bedroom are to be believed, apparently so.”

The earth could swallow her up any time now. Really. “Yeah. So anyway—”

“Hey.” Chad’s concerned expression was back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. Or come off like a creep.” He raised his hands as though to prove that he was harmless. “The walls are thin. And Erato mentioned that you wrote erotica, so I figured…” He shook his head, lowering his hands slowly. “It doesn’t matter what I figured. I apologize. I promise I’m not
that
guy. You’re just like my lesbian idol is all.”

His bumbling apology allowed her to relax slightly, as his mild embarrassment put them on somewhat more even ground. Kate folded her arms over her chest—
why
hadn’t she put on a bra this morning?—trying to adopt a casual air despite her state of undress. “Don’t worry about it. That’s what I get for being so good in bed.”

Laughing, Chad visibly relaxed. He mirrored her pose, folding his toned arms over his broad chest. “So
why
are you sneaking out, exactly? And where in the world are you going dressed like that?” Clearly still worried about causing offense, he hurried to add, “Not that you don’t look lovely.”

“Nice save.” She managed a smirk that she hoped made her look cool. “Well, I
did
have two slippers when I started to climb out the window. So there is that.”

Chad looked behind her. “Want me to get the other one for you?”

Nodding, she said, “But Erato can’t know I’m gone. She’s supposed to be in the kitchen right now, cooking, but still…” She cringed, knowing how odd she sounded. “Can you do it quietly?”

He exuded cocky bravado. “Of course, ma’am. I
am
a trained professional.” Then he winked, which only made her blush harder. “Give me a minute.”

She watched, awed as he practically vaulted over the bush, pulling himself up into her office without seeming to sweat. Not until he’d disappeared did it occur to her to worry about what he might think of the mess she’d left behind. Had she left anything incriminating lying around? But it wasn’t as though she had any pride left. Let him see a random vibrator or porn magazine or half-eaten candy bar. Like it mattered.

When Chad didn’t reappear at the window immediately, she wanted to call up and ask what was wrong. A million possibilities flashed across her paranoid mind: Erato had caught him, he couldn’t find her slipper, he was rifling through her desk drawers, he’d decided to betray her to Erato, or perhaps had been working as a double agent all along. Only her fear of alerting Erato enabled her to stay quiet and wait.

After what felt like hours, Chad’s arm emerged from the window, her slipper dangling from his fingers. His head followed, then his broad shoulders, and before she could process how he did it, he had somehow managed to exit the window and land on both feet, clear of the obstacle below. He beamed as he presented her with the slipper. “My darling Cinderella.”

“Prince Charming, indeed.” Kate mustered a playful wink despite her unyielding self-consciousness as she finally completed her sleepwear ensemble. The guy was a flirt, so she would use that to her advantage. “Could you help me with just one more
tiny
thing?”

His chest honest-to-God puffed up, reminding her of a frigate bird she’d once seen in a nature documentary. Very dominant, very male stuff. Clearly she was on the right track. Chad flexed his muscles before answering, probably unconsciously. “Absolutely.”

“So I’m not
bailing
on Erato.” She surveyed their surroundings nervously, her paranoia belying her words. After confirming that her muse wasn’t standing over them at the window, she gestured toward the parking lot. “Could we talk about it on the way to your truck?”

Chad’s forehead furrowed. He wore confusion well. “Sure.”

She started walking, trusting that he would follow. “I’m not bailing on Erato, but I do need to sneak away for an hour or so.” Sensing that facts wouldn’t work as well as fiction, she impulsively went with the first thing that popped into her head. “She’s more of a writing coach than a girlfriend, see, and we’re just about to wrap up our first big project together.” That part was true enough. “I never thought I’d finish this particular book, so I owe her a lot.” As was that. “Anyway, I thought I’d sneak down to the farmers’ market while she thinks I’m busy writing and surprise her with…something. Like a gift.”

Not her best effort, but hopefully it would suffice.

Once again, Chad seemed perplexed. “You didn’t want to take the time to at least grab your shoes?” He gave her another skeptical once-over. “Or your purse?”

How would he react if she admitted that Erato had locked her in the office and that he was facilitating an escape? Not prepared to find out, she decided to veer far away from the truth. “I didn’t want to risk being caught leaving, and it was sort of a spur-of-the-moment decision.” She paused as the flaw in her story became clear. Without a purse, she had no money with which to buy the gift she claimed to be going to find. Thinking fast, she said, “A friend of mine is actually working the market today. I’m hoping she can help me out.”

There. Not only did that make sense, but it was also sort of true.

Chad rewarded her with a real smile. “That’s really sweet, to go to these lengths to surprise Erato.”

Guilt twisted her insides—she hated lying, especially to someone so nice. However, she doubted he’d be as sympathetic to her cause if she admitted that she was actually slipping away for a rendezvous with another woman. “I try.”

They arrived at Chad’s truck, which happened to be parked only a couple of spaces away from hers. He glanced over at her ride, then back at her, grinning. “Let me guess. No keys?”

She patted the hips of her pocketless pajama bottoms. “Unfortunately, no.”

“Need a lift?”

Her gratitude was so intense it left her boneless. “I’d love one, if you don’t mind. I shouldn’t be very long.”

“No problem. I could stand to pick up some fresh vegetables, anyway.” Chad unlocked his truck with the push of a button, and Kate scrambled into the passenger seat like she was entering the last escape pod to leave a self-destructing science-fiction starship.

Only after he’d backed out of his parking spot was she able to take her first deep breath of the day.

The drive to the farmers’ market was the longest five minutes of Kate’s life. Although she somehow managed to make small talk with Chad—he offhandedly mentioned, as so many people did, that he’d always dreamed of writing a novel—her mind raced as she previewed all the ways her reunion with Olive could play out. She mainly feared that Olive wouldn’t attend the market today at all and that she had completely wasted her time and self-respect. Yet Olive might be there but turn Kate away without allowing her to explain. Or not forgive her even if she
was
permitted to apologize. She barely dared to imagine Olive actually listening to and accepting her apologies, then getting another chance to hold the woman of her dreams and kiss her sweet lips. It would destroy her to envision that potential outcome and then not see it realized.

Kate was relieved when Chad left her at the entrance of the market with the promise to meet her back at his truck in twenty minutes. Luck permitting, her conversation with Olive would go well enough that she could send him home without her, as long as Olive didn’t mind giving her a lift back to her place. That would give them time to talk, maybe even have the chat they should’ve had over dinner a week ago. If Kate was lucky, maybe all it would take was one intimate, thoroughly honest exchange to satisfy Olive—and convince her that she was still worth the wait—until the book was done.

Unfortunately, whatever dim hope she had that Olive might actually be happy to see her faded the instant she spotted the bakery’s booth at the far end of the market, verifying that yes, in fact, Olive
was
here—
and
she was angry. Kate faltered, suddenly a thousand times more self-conscious about her pajamas and slippers as she observed the steel in Olive’s eyes at her approach. Her father Howard chatted amiably with an older gentleman who browsed their wares with the same level of scrutiny one might employ while shopping for the perfect wedding ring. He didn’t seem to notice Olive’s dark mood until she called out, “This isn’t a good time, Kate,” when Kate was still ten feet away from the booth.

Howard glanced sharply at Olive, clearly surprised by her icy tone, then turned his attention to Kate. His eyes widened slightly at her appearance, but he said, “I can hold down the fort if you want—”

“No,” Olive said. She offered her father a brief smile but shut it down completely when she looked back at Kate. “A phone call would have been more appropriate at this point. And less awkward.”

That was
definitely
true. Kate couldn’t imagine feeling any more awkward. She’d never felt as silly, pathetic, cruel, and heartbroken. What a time to be in her pajamas. Her every instinct urged her to run away, to escape this humiliation and retreat to her writing cave before Howard’s customer finally tore his attention away from the focaccia to stare at her, too. But she’d gone through too much—and the possibility that Olive was exactly the woman she’d always longed to find was too strong—to walk away now. Besides, this was her opportunity to make a grand gesture. Her characters did stuff like this all the time—albeit more smoothly and without making such asses of themselves. She stepped closer to the booth, off to the side, although she knew any sense of privacy would be illusory.

Lowering her voice, Kate said, “Please, Olive. I wanted to call, I promise.” Her story was insane. Olive likely wouldn’t believe it even if Kate chose to be completely honest. Even if she did believe it, she would almost certainly get angry. Either way, Kate didn’t want to have this chat in the middle of a bustling marketplace. “Is there somewhere we can go? To talk?”

Olive folded her arms over her chest, face tight with anger. She didn’t bother to keep her volume down. “You had your chance to talk to me a week ago. Now, I’m
working
, and this is unprofessional. I don’t appreciate being ambushed in my place of business, so if you don’t mind,
fuck off
.”

Kate flinched as though Olive had just backhanded her across the face. Honestly, a physical blow would have hurt less. Even though she’d told herself Olive would be upset, and that she might not be forgiven, some part of her had believed she’d at least have the chance to explain. Deep down, she’d counted on the fact that the connection she’d felt—a connection Olive had also acknowledged—would be enough to earn her a second chance, no matter how ludicrous her story. To find out now that whatever feelings had existed between them hadn’t been potent enough to persuade Olive to even hear her speak devastated her. After everything she’d gone through to get here, she couldn’t bear to let things between them end so abruptly.

Mindful not to let Howard overhear, Kate murmured, “So that’s it? All that stuff we said to each other, what we felt…it doesn’t matter?”

She knew she’d said the wrong thing when fury flashed across Olive’s beautiful face. “It didn’t to you, obviously.” Tears welled and threatened to spill over, and Olive cursed as she wiped them away. “I said fuck off, okay? Go back to Erato.” She glared as though trying to burn away the lingering moisture in her eyes with her fiery gaze. “Just leave me the hell alone.”

“
Olive
,” Howard said sharply. His customer had finally left, the three of them now in relative privacy. “You’re right. You
are
being unprofessional. Take five minutes and go cool down somewhere else.
Please
. I’ll watch the booth.”

In a huff, Olive brushed past Kate and stormed away through the crowd. Kate hesitated for only a moment before following. Relieved when Olive led them across the grassy lawn of the town square to a private spot under a large eucalyptus tree, Kate tried to calm the pounding of her heart while mentally rehearsing what she would say if given the opportunity to explain her week of silence. When Olive stopped under the tree and turned to look at her, extremely pissed off yet somehow still stunning, Kate took that as an invitation to speak.

“I’m so,
so
sorry. I wish I could say or do something to fix this, but at this point, all I can do is tell you that—I’m sorry, and I hope you’ll let me make this up to you.” When Olive just stared at her, seemingly unmoved, Kate kept talking. “Erato took my phone away last weekend after you left the apartment, or else I would have called you that afternoon. I
swear
. You’re all I’ve thought about for the past week. I know it sounds crazy, but Erato went on this overly proactive rampage and took away everything she thought might distract me or prevent me from finishing my book on time.” Wishing Olive would offer
some
kind of reaction, Kate said with a hangdog expression, “You were at the top of her list of threats to my productivity, unfortunately. So she did everything in her power to make it impossible for me to contact you.”

To her surprise, Olive sighed—then seemed to soften slightly. Unfortunately, the decision to let go of her anger seemed fueled by defeat rather than actual forgiveness. “Listen, Kate…”

Uh-oh.

Olive’s smile was anything but happy. “I really like you. You know that.”

Kate’s stomach clenched at the finality of the statement. “You said that being with me makes you feel alive.” If she could make Olive remember what she’d felt that morning just by repeating the words, maybe she’d reconsider the breakup that now seemed inevitable. “And that you always wanted to feel that way.”

Once again, Olive openly battled her rising emotion, wiping away the tears that fell before she could compose her features. “Yes, you absolutely make me feel alive. That’s true. But after this past week, I realize it’s not always in a good way. You clearly can hurt me deeply, and I’m sorry, but I’ve had enough hurt for one lifetime.” She met Kate’s gaze pleadingly. “There’s just too much drama, too much complication. A lot of it seems to center around Erato, but this is just as much on you. She took away your
phone
? You’re a grown woman and she’s your
writing coach
—or so you claim. Despite the fact that you
promised
we’d meet for dinner and talk, all I got was a single, vague text message telling me you’d be in touch once the book was done. You want me to believe you had no other choice but to leave me hanging all week, sending unanswered texts to you like some sort of damn fool? Wondering what the hell I did wrong, if that morning, and the way we both seemed to feel, was all in my head?”