Chapter 26

Samson

I checked the champagne in its velvet jacket, touched my fingers to its side, then drew them back and wiped the condensation onto a napkin. Everything was ready. The gallery lights were on, shining on the frames on the cream walls, and I’d lit candles on the raised counter beside me.

The glass doors looked out on the street outside, and the smells from the bakery down the road had infiltrated the space, blessing it with scents of chocolate and red velvet cakes.

My watched pinged, and I checked the time. It was 6 p.m.

The room was empty, two glasses waited on my silver tray, and nerves stung my calm façade.

What if she doesn’t come? What if she tore up the invitation the minute she got it? “Jesus, don’t be such a pussy,” I muttered. She’d come. Blair was curious, and she wanted the book back. She’d come for that reason alone.

But, god, I hoped she’d come to see me, too.

That weekend with her had transformed my goddamn life in more ways than just this, and I couldn’t wait to show her. And to take my time getting to know her inside and out.

Inside. Oh, fuck me, don’t think about that.

I tapped my fingers on top of the counter, which served as a ‘reception’ desk in the gallery, then rearranged the glasses for the umpteenth time. I kept my gaze on the windows and the glowing street lamps outside.

Snow filtered down outside, a dusting from the heavens, which pattered to the concrete and covered it like confectioner’s sugar on a donut.

A woman walked up the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street, her hood pulled up. She halted across from the gallery, faced it.

I didn’t need to see her face to know it was her. Something inside me sang at the sight of her, and just like that, I was on autopilot.

I motored toward the exit, pushing out into the falling snow. I crossed the street, laser-focused on her.

She didn’t shy away but stood there, just outside the vignette of light from a lamppost, arms at her sides, fidgeting back and forth.

“Blair,” I said and tugged her hood back.

The sight of her nearly knocked me out. She was even more beautiful than I remembered.

Snowflakes caught in her raven hair, straightened, falling to her shoulders, and her pale skin was almost as white. My very own Snow White, with luscious red lips and that cute button nose.

Her eyes caught me and held me in place. Emotions streamed across her face, one after the other.

She opened her mouth, then shut it again.

“I knew you’d come,” I said and swiped a snowflake from the tip of her nose. The touch sent a spark through me. “I knew it.”

“You did invite me,” she said.

I laughed – her voice, still clear as water and melodious, filled me with so much fucking joy I’d pop. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I – me, too,” she said. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you in front of my mother and that douche, Joseph. I was wrong.”

“No, you had the right to do it. It was your house and I lied to you. I should’ve been honest from the start but when I saw you that first time, man, I couldn’t just let you walk out of there.”

“Why?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t feel it, too, Blair.” It was impossible she hadn’t. “It was instant attraction. Instant lust. And something else.” I didn’t believe in love at first sight. Hell, at one point, I hadn’t believed in love at all. Blair was something else. The connection we’d made at the start of Christmas – god, it’d blown me away.

“I don’t know what I felt,” she said and shook her head. “All I know is I can’t stop thinking about you and what happened. About everything that happened. I was so wrong, Samson. I was so wrong. About everything.”

I frowned. “Everything?”

She wet her lips, lifting a snowflake inadvertently. “I told my mom I’m done. I told her I’m leaving. She disowned me. I’ll probably have to get a job at Starbucks or something but at least, I’ll have the chance to do what I want to do.”

“Fuck yes,” I said and slipped my arm around her waist. I pulled her into a hug and squeezed tight. “Fuck yes. That’s fantastic. I’m so happy for you, Blair.”

“Thank you,” she said, into the collar of my coat.

I inhaled the coconut scent of her hair, then drew back and released her. It was too soon to do what I wanted to do to her. “I’ve got something to show you,” I said and held out my hand. “Come with me.”

She took it, and her glove chafed mine. We walked back across the street and I opened the door for her, then led her inside and shut it again.

“Thank god for interior heating,” I said and grinned as I stripped off my gloves, then followed with my jacket. I dumped them both on the chair in the corner, and she did the same.

“What is this?” she asked, and gestured to the empty frames illuminated by mono-point lights.

“Let me show you,” I replied and walked toward the central room divider. I crossed behind it, and turned, then waited.

Blair walked up, circled, stood beside me. She gasped.

“Don’t worry,” I said and nodded to the framed charcoal drawings on the wall. “They’re all copies. I made sure the originals were handled carefully and remained undamaged. I didn’t want to rip them out of your book and hang them up without your permission.”

She was speechless.

“This gallery is for you,” I said. “This is going to be where you hang your artwork, and where you sell it. Hell, if you want, we can show art from other local artists as well but for now, it’s yours. All yours, Blair.”

“Are you – are you kidding?”

“Of course not,” I replied and took her hand. “Christmas gave me a lot of time to think about what I wanted out of life. I’ve been bored for such a long time, you wouldn’t believe, and seeing your passion for what you want to do, for art, unlocked something in me. It amazed me. And I couldn’t take the thought of you letting someone like your mother hold you back.”

Tears brimmed in her eyes.

“So, this is yours. I bought the place, so you can use it whenever you want.” I kissed her knuckles but didn’t go further. One step at a time. Let it grow. Don’t be an asshole. “The guy I bought it from thought it would suit your artwork. His name is George Hewitt, and he saw your drawings.”

“Oh, god,” she said and bowed her head. “That’s a little embarrassing.”

“Is it? He was so impressed he told me he’d be interested in commissioning you for a private painting of his own.”

Blair’s head snapped up again and her eyes had totally bugged out of her that pretty head. “What?!”

“That’s right,” I said. “You’ve got your first client, if it’s called that in the art world.” I guided her away from the sketches and back to the front counter, where the champagne and glasses waited. “I hoped you’d see this as a reason to celebrate with me.”

“I – this is all amazing, Samson, but I can’t accept any of this,” she said.

“Don’t say it’s because we don’t know each other. You can’t believe that after what we went through together.” I took the champagne bottle and popped the cork. It brought back memories of another knight, another bottle, and the delicious affair which’d followed after, up in the guestroom in front of that mirror.

Golden liquid frothed over the glass lip, and I cursed under my breath.

Blair snatched up a glass and caught some of it. She giggled.

“It’s good to hear you laugh,” I said, then filled my glass, put down the bottle. “To you, Blair. To your future, because this is what you deserve out of life, and you’ve got the balls to take it.”

“I don’t know about that,” she said. “I didn’t have the balls to take it, and I almost lost you because of it.”

“You can’t lose me,” I replied. “You’re already mine, and I’m yours.” This was good. She hadn’t flinched away at the prospect of us, of continuing what we’d had. I clinked my glass against hers, then drained it.

Blair glugged hers down, too. “Oof, that’s good.” She looked past me and sniffed, dabbed at the undersides of her eyelids. “Sorry, I just can’t believe any of this. I was such an ass over Christmas.”

“So was I.” I reached up and stroked her cheek.

She closed her eyes and held my hand to her skin. “Is that it? I’m just going to get my own art gallery and follow my dreams?” She opened her eyes again and speared me with a look. “That’s the only reason you brought me here tonight?”

I laughed. “Yeah, that.” I cupped her jaw. “And this.” I folded her against my chest and claimed her lips with mine, tasting them as I had almost a week ago. Desire thudded through me, roared after the time apart.

Every emotion I’d experienced and every need screamed into the forefront, doubled, tripled, by what’d felt an age apart.

Blair Scott truly had become my drug. Except, she wasn’t bad for me. She was exactly what I needed to survive, and I couldn’t go back to living without her after all of this.

Not a drug then, no. Just my air.

I inhaled her, worked my fingers down her throat and rested them at the hollow where her collarbones met.

“Wait,” I said and moved back. “Wait a second. There’s more than just this.”

“There is?” Blair’s red lips were puffier now, wet from our kiss. “What is it?”

I took a single step back and reached into my pocket.