Chapter 58

Standing on my porch, he looked too good to be real. I couldn't read his facial expression, but the rest of him looked incredible, even in basic jeans and a loose T-shirt.

I felt myself swallow. My hair was still wet, and I ran a nervous hand through the damp tendrils. "Uh, hi."

After what seemed like forever, he finally smiled. "Hi."

Something about that smile made me feel gooey all over, and I had to resist a sudden urge to throw myself into his arms.

After all, this might not be a social visit. Tentatively, I said, "Are you here for your phone?"

He shook his head. "Screw the phone. I'm here for you." His gaze met mine. "Unless you're gonna tell me to take a hike."

I smiled with relief. "I hate hiking." I paused. "No. Wait. That's not true. I like hiking. I just mean…" I gave a nervous laugh. "I wouldn’t want you to hike alone."

What was I saying? I had no idea.

He reached for my hand. "I brought you something."

I looked down at our hands, now joined. I liked how they looked. Even better, I liked how they felt. I wanted to join more than our hands.

But then, his words sunk in. I looked up. "You brought me something? What?"

"A birthday present."

"But it's not my birthday."

"Yeah. But it was. And I never got you anything."

I shook my head. "You're wrong." My eyes were feeling almost misty again. "You gave me more than you realized."

"And you gave me something better."

"What?" I asked.

His voice grew quiet. "You."

I felt a big, stupid smile spread across my face. "And you gave me you."

His smile faded, and he shook his head. "No. I didn't. And I want to make it up to you."

"What do you mean?"

"Wait here," he said. "I'll be right back."

He released my hand and turned away. From the open doorway, I watched as he strode to his car, popped the trunk, and pulled something out.

It was big and flat, and wrapped in festive paper. He carried it from his car to the porch and held it out between us. He gave me a sheepish smile. "Happy birthday."

I stared at the thing. The size and shape looked eerily familiar. "What is it?" I asked.

"You know what it is."

I'd suspected. I'd even hoped. And a few minutes later, sitting beside Joel in my front room, I finally knew for sure.

I'd just removed the wrapping paper, and was now staring at the masterpiece underneath. I could hardly breathe. "I'm not sure I can accept this."

"Why not?

"Because it's too beautiful." I turned to study his face. "And I know that it must mean something to you."

"Forget that. You mean something to me."

Carefully, I laid down the painting, face-up on the ornate rug. And then, I threw myself into his arms and murmured against his chest, "I love it. Thank you."

His arms closed tight around me, and he whispered into my hair, "I'm sorry I was such an ass."

"You weren't," I said.

"Nice of you to say so."

I pulled back to study his face. "If you don't mind me asking, why were you so bothered?"

He glanced away. "It's complicated."

That wasn't the answer I wanted, but it seemed heartless to push it, especially after he'd given me so much already. But then, he surprised me with an odd question of his own. "You ever hurt people?"

I felt my brow wrinkle. "You mean, like hurt their feelings?"

"No. Like beat on them 'til they're half dead."

I stared at him. I didn't know what to say. Obviously, the answer was no. But surely, Joel knew that already. I hesitated. "That's not a serious question, is it?"

"No."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"So you could feel what I feel."

"You mean, when you fight someone?"

"Yeah. That." Joel looked away. "I fuckin' hate it."

"So why do you do it then?"

"Why else? For the money."

"Is it worth it?"

"I dunno." He shoved a hand through his hair. "I used to think so."

I was still trying to understand. "So, are you a pacifist or something?"

At this, he actually laughed. "Hell no."

"What's so funny? I mean, you told me you hated fighting."

"I hate fighting for money," he said. "But I’m no pacifist."

I had to ask, "What's the difference?"

"There's nothing wrong with fighting for what you believe in." He reached out and brushed a warm finger along the side of my face. His voice softened. "Or to protect someone you love."

My breath caught. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, if someone ever hurt you, I'd beat them to death and love every minute of it."

I swallowed. It was sexy and scary, and yeah, just a little bit confusing. He'd also used the L-word. Sort of. I wanted to say something in return, but I didn't know what.

Abruptly, Joel pulled back and said, "Anyway, fighting ran in the family, so here I am." He gave me a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Creating things on one side, and destroying things on the other."

"By creating, you mean the paintings, right?"

Joel nodded. "You know what it was like, coming up after my brothers?"

"No. How was it?"

"It sucked."

"But why?"

"Like I told you, I'm the fifth one. By the time I get to school, everyone knows exactly what I'll be."

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing but trouble. Every teacher. Every principal. Every adult I ever met. I could practically read their minds. 'Oh shit, another one.'" He gave a wry laugh. "Man, they hated me on sight."

"All of them?" I asked.

Joel gave a small smile. "All except one. There was this art teacher – Miss Robins. Anyway, we're doing this painting project in junior high, and she tells me I have real talent."

"You do." I leaned forward. "A lot of talent."

Joel glanced away. "I dunno."

I reached for his hand. "Well, I do. Honest. I've never seen anything like it."

Joel gave me a dubious look. "Nice of you to say."

I shook my head. "I'm not 'saying' anything. I mean it. You know, there's this art foundation in my dad's name. Every year, we interview dozens of up-and-coming artists. I've never seen a single one with your talent."

I looked to the painting, lying there, face up on the floor. "Unless…" Damn it. I didn't want to say it.

"Unless what?"

I winced. "Unless you weren't being totally straight-forward about it."

At Joel's blank look, I said, "Don't get me wrong. It's absolutely beautiful, and I'll treasure it forever no matter what. But…" I felt my shoulders tense. How to say this?

"But what?" Joel asked.

I took a deep breath. "Don't take this the wrong way, but did you really paint that yourself? I mean, as an original?" In a rush to finish before he became angry, I added, "I know you were distracted when we talked about it, so I just wanted to double-check."

Joel squeezed my hand. "Baby, don't look so scared."

"I look scared?"

"Look," he said, "to answer your question, yes, I painted it. Not from another painting. And not from a picture. But I don't blame you for asking." He shrugged. "I mean, look at me. I'm no artist."

"But you are," I insisted.

"No. I'm not. Wanna know what I do? I don't create things. I destroy them."

"That's not true."

"Sorry, but you're wrong." He gave a slow shake of his head. "You wanna know something?"

"What?"

"You're the first nice girl I've ever been with."

The change of topic caught me off-guard. At the sweetness of the sentiment, I wanted to smile. But Joel wasn't smiling.

What was I missing? I asked, "Is that a bad thing?"

"For you?" He gave something like a laugh. "Probably."

"I'm serious," I said.

"You think I'm not?" He gave my hand another squeeze. "Remember what I said about the teachers?"

"You mean that they had preconceived notions about you?"

"That's one way to put it. But it was the same with girls. The nice ones? Their parents would get one look at me and run for the hills, dragging their daughters with them." He glanced away. "Not that I blame them. Shit, if I had a daughter? I'd be the same way."

"So, what kind of girls did you date?"

"The kind you don't have to date."

"Oh." Tentatively, I asked, "Did you like that?"

"Sometimes," he said. "Or, at least, that's what I told myself. And then something happened."

"What?" I asked.

He gave me a smile that melted my heart. "I met you."

And just like that, the gooey feeling was back. I don't know how it happened, or who moved first, but soon, we were in each other's arms – kissing and touching. Just like always, it felt like coming home, and I savored the feel of him.

The last two days had been miserable. But today, was heaven. And I was determined to enjoy it, especially because I had an idea.

Unfortunately, when I mentioned that idea to Joel a few hours later, the trouble started all over again.