Manic

I'd like that, too.

Someday.

But I'm only nineteen. It's just way too soon to think about forever, and all thoughts of marriage make me feel a little sick. I like Ronin. Might even love him. I think he might be the one for me. But my life just started. I just got here and my past is still very fresh. It's not far away and simple—it's nearby and complicated. Very, very complicated. I'm not ready for the things he wants and I'm definitely not ready to face the issues that still need to be resolved in order to move forward in a serious relationship. Maybe I'll never be ready for kids. I'm not even sure about that.

I sigh into Ronin's back as he turns into the parking garage below the studio. We stopped at an Italian place in Golden to eat, and my day is finally catching up with me because I'm dead-ass tired.

I hand my helmet to Ronin and he locks everything up in the garage lockers, and then we take the elevator up instead of the stairs.

He knows I'm tired.

I like this about him. He made an effort to understand me after I told him what happened in Chicago. He pays very close attention to me. He's the perfect man so far. And I like that.

Most of the time, anyway. Tonight is one of those times. He likes to be in control but that's men for you, I guess. He's not controlling in a bad way, not like Jon was. Ronin comes off as a concerned partner.

When we get to the studio I try to walk up the stairs to his place, but he tugs my hand over to the terrace.

"Awww," I moan.

"Sorry, Gidge," he whispers into my ear as he opens the door. "But we have time for a swing, if you want."

"I do." God, can he be any more perfect? We walk over to the cherry trees and I plop down on the swing as he takes his position behind. He pushes me and my whole experience here at Chaput Studios comes rushing back with the wind as it whips my hair around.

"So, opinions on Ford. You guys getting along better yet?"

"I guess. He's OK."

"How about Spencer?"

I twist around as the swing goes back so I can catch a glimpse of Ronin behind me. "He's funny."

Ronin laughs. "Yeah, he is. He's not a bad guy."

"Is Ford?"

"I hate Ford. Really, seriously, hate his f**king guts."

I'm not surprised. But I am surprised he told me that. Ronin is a professional and the relationship we have with Ford right now is business. Which means what he said was unprofessional. "Wanna tell me about it?"

"Nah, he's not worth it." Ronin stops the swing and takes my hand so we can walk back to my apartment. "Ford said they want you up on Fort Collins this weekend to film you hanging out with Spencer."

"Oh, that sucks. I figured I'd have the weekend off."

"Yeah, me too. But Ford—never mind."

He stops. Maybe because we're at my door or maybe because he realizes he's not supposed to talk shit about a client.

Either way, I don't push it. "Are you coming up there with me?"

He cups my face in his hands and kisses me tenderly on the lips. Just a small, slow kiss with no tongue. "I wouldn't miss it, Gidget. We'll ride up in the truck after breakfast."

I kiss him back a little more forcefully.

He laughs and pulls back. "I'd love to take you in there right now and make love to you, Rook. But I have some work to do and want to call and check on Clare before bed. So I'll come by in the morning, OK?"

"OK," I say, nodding.

He leans in and kisses me softly again. All the urgency of our earlier tryst is gone and now it's just easy and long. I kiss him back and then lean my head on his shoulder. "I love you," I whisper.

His fingers thread through my hair and he kisses me again, only this time it's on the top of my head. A protective, emotional kiss. "I've never dated a girl like you, Rook. You are everything I want. I love all your parts. I love the wary parts, the defiant parts, the independent parts, and your innocence and vulnerability. I want you next to me and when you're not there I feel like a part of me is missing. I'm so in love with you, Rook. So f**king in love with you, it scares me."

"But it's a good scary, right?"

He chuckles. "Yes, definitely a good scary." He turns, holding my hand until the last possible second, our fingers not quite willing to let go, and then he slips away and goes back to the studio.

I go inside and plop down on my couch and flip on the TV and channel-surf for a while. It's been a long day, but a good one. It's still pretty confusing. I'm not sure what to make of my job. I'm not sure if getting painted up naked and kissing other guys as part of work is cheating or not. If I was on Ronin's end of things I'd certainly be jealous. And I'm sure he is, but he's got a lot of self-control.

He deserves lots and lots of points for that and I gladly stack them over in his positive attributes column in my head.

I'm pretty sure he's pissed off about Ford and Spencer making me go up to the bike shop this weekend, but he handled that well, too. We haven't had time to talk about the next job Spencer wants to offer me, but I'm open to considering it. It's not modeling, and that's good. I don't want to model any more. I've had enough. This contract will pay me a lot of money and I bet if we really do get a whole season of shows on the Biker Channel that will pay pretty well too. Granted, the show is about Spencer and his bikes and body painting, but if I wasn't an important part of that I wouldn't be Spencer's first choice. Plus, by the time that contract comes up I'll sorta be famous all on my own. They'll have to offer me something nice, or else why would I take the job?