Christmas arrives early in Todos Santos for Trick. His motorcycle has been delivered and I’m not sure, but I swear he gets tears in his eyes. Grady declares he’s riding bitch before Tamsen or I can slip a single word into the conversation. A quick peck on the lips and they’re off.

“You have the makings for margaritas?” Tamsen asks.

Blocking the sun with my hand above my eyes as I watch the guys ride off, I shake my head. “Sorry, I married an addict.”

“Well then, it looks like it’s time to introduce me to your neighbors.”

I raise a brow at Tamsen. “You think it’s a good idea to ask neighbors I barely know if they have ingredients for margaritas we can borrow?”

She loops her arm around mine, tugging me in the direction of Declan’s. “They were at your wedding; they’re practically family.” She giggles.

Thirty minutes later, we’re back home sipping margaritas on the veranda.

“I can’t believe you agreed to go out with Wes in exchange for drink ingredients.” I shake my head.

Tamsen shrugs. “It’s just breakfast, and Grady and I are leaving the next day anyway.” She takes another sip. “Mmm, and these are so good. It’s totally worth it.”

I nod in agreement. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What’s the connection between you, Grady, and Trick? I mean, Trick thinks of you as family and I know you got him into rehab, but surprisingly he’s never told me, and I’ve never asked how you three came to be so close.”

Tamsen flips up her glasses. “Really? You don’t know?”

I shake my head.

“I was part of the team that responded to the accident the night he was hit.”

“Oh…” I twist my glass by the stem “…so how did that lead to everything else? You were just doing your job. Doesn’t that end after you make the transfer to the hospital?”

Tamsen takes a drink then rubs her lips together with a slow nod. “Yes, it does, but that night was an exception.”

“How so?”

“Grady was driving the car that hit Trick.”

“What?” I set my glass down and sit up straight.

“Grady said Trick was like an animal running out into the street. There wasn’t enough time to stop. Alcohol, drugs … it was all in his system. It was also the dead of winter and he had on a T-shirt, pants unfastened, and bare feet.”

My forehead tightens. This is painful to hear. It doesn’t feel like she’s talking about my Trick.

“Grady knew it wasn’t his fault, but he still felt responsible in some way. He wanted to talk to Trick’s family and let them know what happened, but when he discovered there was no family, he couldn’t walk away and leave him. Grady had to know he was going to be okay.”

Tamsen stares down at her glass. “Grady is the one who took Trick home after he was released from the hospital. That’s when he discovered Trick’s world—the art, the drugs, the very expensive ‘stuff.’ I’m still not sure why, but he took it upon himself to make sure Trick got it together. I helped him into drug rehab while Grady was relentless with trying to piece together the mystery of Patrick Roth.” Tamsen laughs. “Grady knew Trick was officially ‘his’ when he brought him a slew of makeup and told Trick to make him look like a woman.”

I smile, remembering the Don and Donna incident.

“Deep down my brother has a heart of gold, but he’s always jumped at opportunities that are mutually beneficial.”

Tamsen sits up and turns toward me, resting her feet on the ground. “Truthfully, it was easy for both of us to want to help Trick. He was so lost and helpless, like a child. Beneath the addiction and questionable actions, he’s a good guy, and in some ways we’ve felt like the memory loss was his chance to start over. I know it sounds crazy, but I can’t help but wonder if it was fate that he and Grady’s paths crossed that night.”

The biker boys return and Trick heads straight upstairs to draw. I’ve been spoiled having all of his attention, but now that his bike is here and he’s started drawing again, I’m going to have to learn to share. By six I check on him to see if he plans on joining us for dinner. What I don’t expect is for the door to the spare bedroom to be locked.

“Trick?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I come in?”

“Just a sec.”

Really?

“Whatcha need?” He smiles, opening the door, but just a crack.

I bob my head side to side to see past him. “What are you drawing?”

He scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip. “Well, I’ve been trying to draw you.”

“Me?” My eyes go wide to match my grin. “Let me see.” I step forward, but he blocks me.

“You can’t. Not until it’s done.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like people looking at my work before it’s finished.”

I never took Trick to be the self-conscious type. He’s as cocky as they come with everything else, but with the one thing he has every right to be cocky about he shows vulnerability.

“Am I naked in the picture?” I raise a single brow.

“Sleeping.”

“Oh … that’s … interesting.”

He nods.

“Well, we’re going to dinner. Are you ready?”

He grimaces. “Would you be too mad if I skipped out tonight? I’m at real critical point and I don’t want to lose my focus by leaving.”

I shrug. “Okay, I guess. You must be in the zone?”

He nods.

“Can we bring you back something?”

“Nah, I’ll grab a snack later.”

I feel my lips pulling into a frown, but I make a quick recovery so he doesn’t see my disappointment. “Well, I’ll see you later then.” I lean forward for a kiss just as he shuts the door … In. My. Face!

“Have a good time,” he hollers from the other side of the door.

It would appear as if the honeymoon is over.

“Trick’s not going,” I announce at the bottom of the stairs.

“Come on, we don’t need him. Besides I think it’s great that he’s engulfed in his art again.” Grady offers me his arm and I take it with a forced smile.

“What’s he working on?” Tamsen asks.

“Me.”

“He’s drawing you?” Grady gasps.

“That’s what he said.”

“God, this love-hate relationship I have with you just keeps getting more intense.”

I squint at Tamsen as we get in my car.

“Grady’s been trying to get Trick to sketch him for years … nude, I’m sure.” We laugh but Grady slumps into the backseat with a pouty face. “But Trick won’t do it.”

I pull out of the drive. “Don’t feel too bad, Grady. Trick’s not sketching me nude either. He’s sketching me sleeping.”

“Yeah, but probably in the nude,” Grady grumbles.

I’m sad to see Grady and Tamsen leave. They’re starting to feel like my family as well. Yesterday, Tamsen kept to her promise and had brunch with Wes while Grady and I took an eco-tour of Todos Santos. Trick? Well, he’s been locked up in the guest bedroom, including sleeping in it. He insisted Tamsen and I have our girls’ slumber party—for two nights.

“Take care of our boy.” Grady hugs me and I feel like he’s my “big brother” too. “Wander up the coast and see me sometime. It’s a fantastic drive.”

“We will.”

Tamsen pulls me in for a hug. “Love you, sweetie. I’m sure you’re missing Trick, but our girl time the past couple days has been the absolute best.”

“I couldn’t agree more. Are you sure you don’t want to move down here with us?”

Tamsen laughs. “Maybe when my prince charming sweeps me off my feet. Besides, I’m going to text you every day; you’ll be glad I’m not here so at least you can shut off your phone when you get tired of hearing from me.”

“Okay, ladies. Enough already. I’ve got a plane to catch.”

“Did Trick open the door when you went up to tell him goodbye?”

Both Grady and Tamsen shake their heads. “He just hollered ‘thanks for coming.’”

Tamsen laughs. “At least you can’t be mad at him; he’s still sort of spending time with you.”

“Or he’s cheating on you with you.” Grady snickers as they walk out the door.

The house takes on an immediate silence … loneliness. All I keep thinking about is the approximate two hundred hours that it can take Trick to complete a drawing. I have no idea how much he’s been sleeping, but I doubt it’s that much. Maybe if I’m lucky I might get to see him in another week or two.

Jellied toast with eggs and cayenne gets me a kiss on the cheek as he opens the door just enough to accommodate the diameter of the plate. Catch of the day from a restaurant near the shopping district gets me a wink as he grabs the sack and shuts the door. But dinner … okay, I skip dinner and offer him dessert instead.

I knock on the door.

“Hmm?” It’s become the usual response.

“Hungry?”

“A little. What did you bring?”

I shake my head at the fact that we’re having this conversation through the locked door. “I brought what used to be your favorite.”

The lock clicks and the door opens a fraction. Trick’s lips part as his eyes roam over my naked body. “Our bedroom, five minutes,” he says, shutting the door.

Five minutes turns into fifteen, but I don’t complain because all that matters is he’s in our bed giving the real Darby, not a sketch, his full attention. Foreplay doesn’t make an appearance tonight. There is no sipping the martini; it’s a shot glass of sex … bottoms up—literally. I have to concede, although it’s quick, Trick’s precision is g-spot-on.

Damn him!

He kisses my forehead, slips on his jeans without fastening them, and walks out of our bedroom. Just as soon as my body floats back down to Earth, I am going to be really pissed at him—for something. I’m sure when my brain begins to form coherent thoughts again I’ll know what that something is.

It’s become quite clear that Trick has found a way to feel productive again. I suppose it’s unrealistic to think our most worthwhile contribution to society is mind-blowing sex. After a lonely night in bed and leaving Trick’s breakfast by the guest bedroom door, I get ready to find my non-Trick purpose. As I open the front door I’m greeted by Declan in shorts and a muscle shirt with his hand fisted like he was just about to knock.

“Hey.” I smile.

“Hey. Sorry, are you on your way out?”

“Yes, I was just getting ready to …” Find my new purpose? “… run some errands. What’s up?”

“I didn’t know if you were serious about helping me with some of my online classes, but if you were—”

“I’d love to!” I grimace at my own eagerness. I’m a newlywed; I shouldn’t be jumping at the opportunity to get out of my house and hangout with the neighbor guy, but I am because I’m just that bored.

Declan’s eyes grow big. “Really?”

“Sure.”

He nods. “Okay, great. When’s the best time for you?”

I shrug. “Now works.”

His head jerks back. “Now? Weren’t you needing to run some errands?”

I wave a dismissive hand, closing the door behind me. “It’s nothing important. Your place?”

“Yeah, sure.” He gestures with his head toward his house. “So what’s Trick doing today?”

I slip on my sunglasses. “He’s drawing.”

“Drawing?”

“Yes, he’s an artist.”

“Wow, that’s awesome. What’s he draw?”

“People.”

“Well he’s come to the right place. Todos Santos is an artist’s paradise. Is he going to sell his sketches?”

“I think so. Although he’s working on a drawing of me right now. I don’t think he’s planning on selling it, but honestly I haven’t asked.”

When we reach Declan’s, he gets us drinks and snacks, grabs his laptop, and takes us out back. “So what made you want to become a PA?”

Slipping off my sandals, I curl up on the chaise lounge. “I job shadowed one my senior year of high school. She did basically the same procedures, diagnosing, and treating that the physician did but she worked three days a week. You don’t see too many part-time physicians. I don’t know if I’ll ever have children, but if I do I’d like to have the option of working part-time. Then there’s the option to change specialties without going back to school. Physicians can’t jump from surgery to dermatology without going back to school but PAs can.”

“What was your specialty?”

“I worked in the ER.” I grin. “An adrenaline junkie of sorts, but for me it was the challenge of putting together the broken puzzles.”

“You must be good under pressure.”

I nod. “Yes, in my job I was. No one makes the right decision one hundred percent of the time, but I’ve been good at going with my instincts.”

“Confident?”

“Yes. It’s hard though. Sometimes you can be overly confident. I work with some people who think they can do no wrong. For myself, I try to find that balance.”

“You ever kill anyone?”

I laugh. “Looks like we need to work on your medical nomenclature. Have patients died under my care? Yes. It’s unavoidable if you work in the ER long enough.”

After another half hour of small talk, we start working on his school work. I shoot off a quick text to Trick so he doesn’t wonder why my car is still at home but I’m not.

Me: Helping Declan with his school. If you decide to take a break, I’ll run home!

A half hour later I get a response.

Trick: OK

By the time Colby, Wes, and Mallory show up, we’ve put in almost four hours of tutoring. They invite me and Trick to dinner, but I decline this time, knowing that Trick will not be socializing until he’s completed his project. The eerie silence drowns me as I open our front door. A little part of me was hoping he’d been making dinner, watching TV, or even doing yoga, which he hasn’t done in days.

“Trick?”

No answer.

I go upstairs and knock on the door.

“Hmm?”

I sigh. “Let’s go out for dinner.”

“Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow.”

I lean my forehead against the door. “Please.”

“Tomorrow.” His voice is absent of emotion.

“Well I’m going.”

“Ok.”

Clawing at my scalp, I shake my head. This sucks. I don’t give a shit how fabulous this picture of me is; the resentment is going to take away from my full appreciation of it.

“Oh, and I’m taking your Ducati. Any special instructions before I leave?” I call on my way down the stairs.

The bang upstairs sounds like the doorknob impaling the wall.

“What did you say?” Trick stands at the top of the stairs in his jeans, no shirt—eyes wild.

Mentally willing the smirk on my face to hide, I turn around. “Welcome to the world again.”

“You’re not taking my bike.”

I shrug. “Who’s going to stop me?”

“Darby.” He squints his eyes.

I grab my purse and his key from the counter then sprint outside and around the corner to the carport.

“Darby!” Trick yells, chasing me in his bare feet.

I yank off the cover and grab my helmet. He jerks my helmet from my grip along with the key and picks up the cover from the ground.

“Not happening.”

“Take me for a ride, please.”

“Tomorrow.” He walks off toward the house while I fight back the tears.