“You already are or you wouldn’t be meeting with me.”
“I can recommend someone talented—”
“I want you.”
There is something in the way he says those words that sit all kinds of wrong. “I’m flattered, and I hope to hear great news about the museum. I’d be honored to create something special to honor your father.”
He studies me for several beats and while his stare is unreadable, my face under his attention feels inappropriate. I wonder if Savage is watching. I’m sure he is, and I don’t think he would like how Kirk is looking at me. And Lord help Kirk if I don’t end this now.
“I should get home,” I say quickly. “A bride-to-be needs her beauty sleep.”
“Right,” he says. “I believe Robin took care of our bill. I’ll be in touch with her tomorrow. Can I walk you out or offer you a ride somewhere?”
“No. Thank you. I have a car service. I’ll finish my wine while he pulls around.”
His eyes linger on my face and then he gives a small nod and walks away. I’m left unsettled. And yes, he may have inappropriate intentions, but it feels like more than that. There is something that just felt off about him and the entire meeting. The moment he’s out of sight, I stand, and hurry toward the bar, ready to be with my very large, very protective, soon-to-be husband.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Candace
The minute I’m at the giant pillar to my left, Rick is placing me against it, planting his hands on either side of me. “What the hell was that?”
“Uncomfortable,” I say, “but I handled it.”
“I was about twenty seconds from handling it.”
Smith eyes me over a barstool to my left behind Rick. “I was here in case I had to save the guy’s life.”
“Seriously, Candace,” Rick says. “What the fuck was that?”
I shift away from the pole and wrap my arms around him. “Can we just go home?”
“Candace, damn it—”
I push to my toes and kiss him, a quick brush of lips, before I say, “I know you trust me to handle myself or tell you I need help. And right now, I really need to just be with you. I’ll tell you all about it later. When we feel up to talking.”
His eyes heat and he leans in low and close, his lips at my ear, and says, “We talk first, baby, because once we’re naked, the only words I want from you are ‘Please, Rick. More, Rick.’”
I laugh and push him back. “Let’s go home.”
He strokes a lock of hair behind my ear. “I will never get tired of hearing you say those words.”
My heart swells. “Home means more now. You know?”
“You know I do.”
He captures my hand and rotates to Smith. “We’re outta here. Thanks for taking care of her. Now go find some company for the night. Ashley was never the woman for you. And she married another man. Who she loves, Smith.”
“Fuck off, Savage.”
He releases me and walks over to Smith and leans in close, murmuring something for his ears only before he returns to me. His arm slides around my shoulders and sets us in motion. On our way home.
Finally.
But as happy as I am about Rick being home, I’m sad for Smith. I know what being alone and in love is like. I want him to find his happiness, too.
Once we’re at the front door, about to head out into the cold night air, I slip into my coat. “Brrr,” I say. “Hello, winter night.”
“Stay inside where it’s warm. I’ll have them pull the car up.” He kisses me and heads outside with long, ridiculously masculine strides. Since the moment I met him, that way about him—that explosive raw alpha energy—has always done it for me. Because beneath all of that, he’s complicated, layers upon layers of complicated. And yet, I understand him like he’s another part of me. He is another part of me.
I draw in a breath on the sensation of being watched and fight the urge to turn and look around. Instead, I walk to the side of one of the doors and pretend to lean on the wall, scanning my surroundings, but no one and nothing stands out. Why am I having this feeling when Rick is home? I thought I was just paranoid about his little mission. Apparently, it’s more than that.
Savage reappears in the lobby, scanning for me, and I call out his name. “Over here.”
He motions me forward and offers me his hand. I hurry forward and accept it, but plant my feet. “Before we leave, I know this is crazy, but last night I felt like I was being watched. I told Blake. But I feel it again. Maybe I’m having wedding jitters and it’s making me lose my mind. Can we just elope already?”
He cups my neck and drags my mouth to his, kisses me, and says, “Never ignore a gut feeling. And Blake told me what happened.” He snakes his phone from his pocket and punches in a number. “Smith,” he says. “You still here?” He listens a minute and then says, “Good. Candace feels like she’s being watched again.” He listens again and then says, “Really? Ain’t that something, man. Thanks.” He disconnects.