Despite having been out with Kyrnon for hours the night before, Amber was still up at six the next morning, heading down to the pool on the first floor of her apartment building—one of the excuses she used to justify how much she was paying for rent. After a few grueling laps, and feeling far more awake than she should have, she headed back upstairs to shower and get ready for the day.

She wasn’t a morning person by any means, and she lived for waking up in the later hours of the day, but with the work she knew she was going to have to complete for the replica, she had to implement her old college routine.

Back when she was still attending the Art Institute, she had been far more active in the mornings—especially since that was usually when her classes were held. She would get up, workout, shower and get dressed, along with grabbing a cup of coffee, and that was all before seven in the morning.

Now, she thought it was hell on earth trying to get up that early.

But with what awaited her at the completion of the work, it was worth far more than a few lost hours of sleep.

Twisting her hair up into a big curly puff at the top of her head—her hair was too rebellious to do something as tame as a messy bun—Amber didn’t bother much with makeup since no one would really be seeing her face in the back of the gallery.

Neither did she pay particular attention to the clothes she wore, selecting another over-sized flannel and skinny jeans.

Besides her satchel, she brought along her bag of paintbrushes, a number of them in which she’d had for years. She could have used the brand new set gifted to her by Elliot, but there was something about using her own tools that made her feel more secure.

The distance from her apartment to the metro seemed shorter this time, though that could have been because of the faint flutter of anticipation that thrummed through her the closer she came to the station.

She knew there were slim odds that Kyrnon would be on the very same train she planned to board, but that didn’t stop her from hoping he would. By the time it came rolling in, her reflection staring back at her from the shifting train cars and windows, she couldn’t help scanning, wondering if he would be amongst the sea of faces.

Even as one crowd walked off, she and the others boarding after, Amber still looked for him. It was only after the doors came to a close and they were on the move did she finally stop hoping.

The first to arrive at the gallery, the doors were still locked, but Elliot had given her a key once she officially started on the replica. If she wanted to arrive in the early hours of the morning, or leave in the late hours of the night, she was free to do so, as long as she let them know in advance. For whatever reason, Gabriel made sure the painting was taken to and from the gallery each day, only allowing the canvas to stay so long as she was in the building with it.

It was strange, but what did she know about a rich man’s paranoia?

Before she headed back to get started, she turned on all the lights, preparing to open just as she would on the infrequent chance she was called in to open. Luckily, Tabitha was coming in and once she did, Amber could get started.

She was just sorting through the receipts from the night before when Tabitha appeared, whipping the trench coat she wore off, heading back toward the pseudo-break room they used during the day.

“So, who was the guy?”

Unlike some of the girls at the gallery, Tabitha wasn’t afraid to ask the questions others were wondering. If she was curious about something, she voiced it.

Standing at the counter, she reached for the box of Keurig pods in the cabinet above the coffee maker, digging one out and replacing the old one. Placing her mug down and pressing the start button, she looked to Amber expectantly.

“What guy?”

Tabitha didn’t believe her innocent act for a minute. “The one from last night. Tall. Beard. Delectably Irish.”

There was really no need for her to describe him, not when she hadn’t been able to get Kyrnon off her mind, even before last night — he just had a face worth remembering.

Not to mention their breakfast at the diner. It already felt like so long ago that she was sitting across from him, that soft smile of his when he dropped her off at home hours later.

And that was all it had been.

Mere hours ago.

“You left with him, didn’t you?” Tabitha continued, trying to pry an answer out of her. “One minute you were here, the next you were gone.”

Well, there was no point in her denying it. “We went to breakfast at this diner—he’s a nice guy.”

“Nice? Is that all you’re going to give me?” she asked with a laugh, tearing open packets of raw sugar to pour into her coffee. “Did he ask you out? What’s his name? Is he good in bed? If you can only answer one, answer the last.”

“There’s nothing to tell really,” Amber said. “We just talked for a while. His name is Kyrnon, if you must know, and I have no idea if he’s any good in bed.” Though he looked like the answer to that was a strong yes.

“So you like him then?” Tabitha asked with a smile and a sip of her coffee. “At least more than the last one.”

The last guy Amber had been on a date with was an accountant, one that worked for wealthy investors, and while he had been nice to look at, he had proved utterly boring. It almost felt like he was talking at her all night as opposed to to her.

Needless to say, there hadn’t been a second date.

Was it presumptive of her to think Kyrnon might want to see her again? Probably, but then again, he had left his jacket with her.

“Then call him up,” Tabitha suggested like it was the simplest thing in the world. “If you like someone, there’s no shame in letting them know—even if it’s purely physical. Because seriously? That man would make me confess some things if it meant getting him alone.”

Laughing out loud, Amber headed back for the studio. “I’ll see you later.”

Back in the room, she removed her flannel, tossing the material across her stool, pulling on the smock she usually wore when she worked. And despite the task at hand, this was not any different than what she did when she was alone in her apartment, transforming ideas to expressions with the paint on a canvas.

In fact, this was quite easier to do.

There was more to it than just passion. It was about the technicalities, the sharp and blurred lines, elements she had been taught in school.

The minute she picked up her first brush, time became a fluent thing, the hours slipping by as she engulfed herself in what she was doing, blocking everything else out.

It wasn’t until she had finally decided to take a break and check her phone did she see she had a message from Kyrnon. Surprise and giddiness flared to life inside of her as she eagerly opened it, wondering what he would say.

What time d’you get off work?

Such an uncomplicated question filled with infinite possibility, but before she could dwell on it too long, she replied back with a time and set the device down, getting back to work.

On weekdays, especially if they weren’t hosting a showing, Cedar closed its doors at five. Tabitha had already popped her head in to say her goodbyes, not blinking an eye that Amber was staying later. Though she worked there, she didn’t know very much about art, so she didn’t realize the priceless painting Amber was working with.

And then, once it was quiet beyond the walls of the studio as well, she was able to submerge herself further.

By the time she called it a day around eight, about the time in which she told Kyrnon she would be getting off, she sent a quick text to Gabriel to let him know she was finished and he was free to pick it up whenever he was ready—which wouldn’t be much longer—and gave him the time in which she would be back in the morning.

As she was finally leaving, walking out of the gallery with keys in hand as she thought of what all she would need to complete the following day to stay on schedule, she realized she wasn’t alone.

Kyrnon was half-leaning, half-standing beside his motorcycle, looking every bit as drool-worthy as he had the last time she’d seen him.

“You never said you were coming,” she said as she finished locking up, turning back to face him.

Had she thought there was a reason behind him asking what time she would be off? Sure. But she hadn’t expected to find him waiting out here once she came out.

“Ach, and where’d the fun be in that?” Kyrnon asked, stepping up onto the sidewalk. “Ruins the surprise.”

She didn’t fight the smile curling her lips. “And what’s the surprise?”

Plucking the helmet off the seat of his bike, Kyrnon said, “We’re going to Coney Island.”

“Are we?”

“What could it hurt?” he asked, closing the distance between them, his eyes drifting over her front. “We could be eating funnel cake. Riding a Ferris wheel. It’ll be grand.”

Laughing, she remembered the last time he said that. She probably should have been more hesitant, especially since she had spent the night in a bed with Rob—that was clue enough that she hadn’t been making the best decisions—but with that boyish smile on Kyrnon’s face coupled with the mischievous look in his eyes, how could she say no.

She was reaching for the helmet before she even agreed to go.

There was something about the shining lights, the way the city seemed to light up with new life that made Coney Island seem all the more wondrous at night.

Amber might have lived in New York for the better part of six years, but she had only come out to the theme park a handful of times, and those had all been during the day.

The sweet smell of promised funnel cake hung heavy in the air as they parked near the pier. And once Kyrnon had mentioned it, she was all for it.

Just like before at the diner, he offered that scarred, calloused hand of his, closing his fingers around hers once she accepted. There was no hesitation in his step, nor any tension in his hold.

He didn’t care that this was only their second time going out together—nor had he even cared the first.

He didn’t care that others glanced in their direction, sometimes even twice, but that could have also been because he was worth looking at twice.

They were just passing a gaming booth, one with netting hanging along the doors where giant panda bears were put up as prizes. Though she had always felt like the games were rigged somehow, that had never quelled her desire to try and win one. Once she had played against a kid—and you never take the win away from a kid—and the few times she came with Rob, he had never wanted to try his hand at one.

She was twenty-five, she didn’t even have a place for that damn stuffed thing, but the idea of walking away from that panda was hard.

“Want to have a go at it?” he asked, nodding his head in its direction, even as he steered her toward the booth.

The attendant, with a name tag that read Tony, barely spared them a glance as he muttered, “Ten for the first game, five for the next. Three hits for a small prize, ten for the big ones.”

“Have you ever beaten one of these?” she asked in return as he dug into his pocket, pulling out a twenty and slapping it down in front of the man that looked like he was three sheets to the wind.

There was something about the way his lips twitched that made her curious. “Not exactly.”

Kyrnon had one of the toy guns in his hand before she could respond, seeming to test the weight in his hands before holding it out in front of him, his gaze trained straight ahead.

He looked effortless like that, as though it was second nature to him. That nagged at the back of her mind, especially since she knew some interesting people in Manhattan, but she ultimately chalked it up to men and their guns.

Kyrnon looked ready to take out the spinning targets when he paused and looked to her. Holding his hand out, he beckoned her over, pressing the gun into her hands once she was close enough.

“I don’t—”

“It’s easy,” he said, cutting her off, his lips next to her ear. “You just aim…” His arms circled her, drawing her into the position he wanted, staying close. “… and pull the trigger.”

His finger found hers on the trigger, and only once she inhaled did he pull it. It wasn’t nearly as intense as a real gun, Amber was sure, but she could still feel the kick as the small pellet ejected, speeding through the air and hitting the target dead center.

He kissed her right where her jaw and throat met before stepping back, the hand he had at her waist lingering moments longer. “Easy.”

Amber could feel the flush in her face, even the path his hand had taken as it slid off her.

Yeah, there was nothing easy about Kyrnon Murphy.

Focusing, she closed one eye, trying to see the small, spinning circles better. She waited until she thought she had one in sight before she aimed, took a breath, and fired.

Missing the target entirely.

“What’s this?” Kyrnon asked. “You’re supposed to be winning me a prize. I’m a hard man to please, darlin’. Do me proud.”

Laughing, she aimed and shot again, barely grazing the metal, but did actually hit it. “This isn’t as easy as it looks.”

“Fair enough. Let’s wager on it then.”

Thinking back on the first shot he took, Amber scoffed. “I have no doubt that you can hit all of them.”

“Of course,” he said, not even a little ashamed at his arrogance. “I’m betting on you, though.”

Eyeing him as she turned the weapon over in her hands, she considered it. “And if I lose.”

“I’ll take you home after we leave.”

“And if I win?”

He rubbed a hand over his beard, a smile kicking is lips up. “We haven’t discussed parameters, lovie. First thing’s first.”

She waved him on. “Let me have them.”

“You hit the next seven of eight.”

Amber shook her head, knowing there was no possible way she could do that. “Five.”

“Six.”

“Fine.” How could she possibly argue with him? “Now, tell me. What do I win?”

His next words were low, guttural almost, spoken in a language she didn’t understand, but there was a heat to his gaze, one that made her feel terribly alive.

Licking her lips, she asked, “What does that mean?”

“Hit the next six and I’ll show you what it means.”

If that wasn’t motivation, she didn’t know what was.

Turning back, she aimed and hit the next three, but the one that followed missed by an inch.

“That’s your one,” Kyrnon muttered, drifting closer. “Careful there, lovie. Wouldn’t want you to miss out.”

That was easy for him to say. “Then stop distracting me.”

He chuckled, but did remain silent as he waited for her to make the final shots. The next few came quite easier, and when she was finally on her last one, even when she felt him draw closer, she managed to hit the target.

“Impressive,” Kyrnon said with a slight smile.

“Still not enough for the bear,” Tony drawled beneath his breath, staring at them over top the magazine he was now reading. She had forgotten he was even there.

Grabbing the other gun from the counter, Kyrnon barely faced the targets before he had every single one of them shot down in a matter of seconds. With a brow arched at Tony—as though the man was bold for even questioning him—he pulled one of the bears free, presenting it to Amber with a smile.

That effortless way in which he took out the targets had her blinking in surprise, even as she took it from him. “Wow.”

“Beginner’s luck?” he asked.

Glancing over to Tony who wore a disgruntled frown, she shook her head. “Try again.”

“My da taught me how to shoot. It’s like second nature now.”

Throwing an arm around her shoulders, he led her away from the stand and toward the giant Ferris wheel. They were almost there when Kyrnon suddenly paused, his body going tight with tension. It took her a moment to realize it was because of a dog not too far away, its eyes wide, but friendly. The moment the little thing realized it had their attention, a fluffy tail started wagging back and forth.

Kyrnon didn’t seem to care that it looked positively friendly—it made him uneasy.

“You have a thing about dogs?” she asked, glancing back at him as she crouched down to scratch behind the dog’s ears.

“Grisly beasts is what they are,” he mumbled to himself, but though it was clear that he was uncomfortable, he still remained at her side.

It was endearing that he would rather remain there despite his apprehension.

Sadly, the puppy trotted off toward an abandoned strip of chicken on the ground.

“Bad experience?”

He didn’t get the chance to answer before they were at the Ferris wheel and walking through the gate.

“Fecking thing is going to need its own seat,” Kyrnon grumbled as he stepped into the small pod behind her, making her laugh as she made a space for the giant panda.

Only once the door was closed behind them and chain in place did Kyrnon explain his dislike for dogs.

“I was thirteen, a wee lad with a bad temper and fast fists.”

She smiled at the image, thinking of a shorter, less muscular version. And if she thought he was arrogant now, he was probably a lot worse back then.

“I owed a debt to a fella that you never want to owe a debt to. To pay it off, he made me fight a lad twice my size, double the age. Oh, don’t look at me like that, lovie. I can hold my own.”

Amber didn’t realize she was staring at him wide-eyed until he mentioned it with an infectious smile, reaching a hand out to tug her onto his lap. There was enough room for the pair of them on his bench seat, but just enough.

“It wasn’t because I couldn’t win—it was because I refused to lose. He wanted me to take the beating and go down.”

“But you didn’t …”

“Fight or flight—I fight ’til the end.”

“So what happened next?”

“Two rounds in, I knocked him out with one punch, but I couldn’t celebrate the win because Riley was ready to hand me my arse for not bowing down. I took off, not that I could get very far because my body was fecking broken—it was brutal.”

Amber was quickly realizing that this story wasn’t going to have a very happy ending. She had expected a dog biting him when he was a kid, or something similar… but now she had no idea what he would say next.

But she did know she wasn’t going to like it.

“I’m crawling across this lot and the next thing I hear are the sounds of the hounds he sent to catch me before I could escape. I’m almost free, but in the next second, teeth clamp down on my ankle.” As the Ferris wheel stopped on its first rotation, it gave a shuddering jerk, startling the hell out of her as she imagined the dog’s teeth clamping down onto her own flesh. “But I lived to tell the tale.”

“I’m almost sorry I asked,” Amber said with a frown. “That sounds awful.”

And yeah, she could completely understand why he hated dogs.

“Not so bad,” he said, his hands falling to her waist. “It taught me a valuable lesson.”

“Oh?”

“Rule sixty-eight. Never turn your back on a man you wouldn’t trust there.”

“Sounds like a good rule,” she said, tracing her fingers over his shoulder. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be. It all happens for a reason and despite it, here I am.”

No matter how uncomfortable the story made her, she was still glad to know it. And, even if it was a bit premature, she was starting to think that Kyrnon didn’t mince his words. He said what he wanted, no matter how it made a person feel.

He was blunt.

She liked it.

The Wonder Wheel came to another stop, and this time, they hung from the top, the car swaying slightly. Kyrnon shifted his grip on her, and just that quickly, she became all too aware of the position they were in, and just how close they were.

And as she shifted her gaze from the small window in the door to him, it was clear he was aware too.

“Story time over?” he asked, his voice gone low, his eyes fixated on her mouth.

“Yeah.”

The word was barely out of her mouth before he had a hand curled around the back of her head, tugging her down to press his mouth against hers. While his lips might have been soft, his kiss was firm, unyielding.

She returned it with a sigh, her fingers curling into his shirt. Now she was happy it was so dark around them, making it impossible for anyone to see.

It was easy losing herself in the feel of him—the way his grip tightened on her like they just couldn’t be close enough.

Only when the wheel started again did she draw away, but didn’t go far. His expression was hard to read in the dark of night, but she could feel the evidence of exactly how he was feeling as she shifted in his lap.

“I can take you home if you want …” he said trailing off, his hold still possessive.

She thought of his words from earlier. “But where’s the fun in that?”