Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 35946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
I laugh a brittle laugh.
“Yeah, well, if you know any, let me know.”
“I might.”
I shriek. And it’s not just that the voice comes from right behind me, it’s that this time, the goofy cowboy lilt is gone. It’s that this time, I recognize his voice. And I recognize it because I’d know the sound of his voice anywhere.
I whirl, and when my eyes drag up over his chest and his chiseled jaw, and his perfect lips, to his gorgeous blue eyes, my heart jumps into my throat.
“I—”
“Ms. Hayes,” Ethan drawls quietly, his eyes burning like blue fire into mine.
“I—how—”
And then, I break. With a sob, I rush into him, throwing my arms around him so tightly, like I’m afraid he might be an illusion. But I know that hard body I’m holding so tight. I know the smell of him. I know the feel of his big arms as he wraps them around me.
“How are you here?!” I blubber into his chest, squeezing him so tight.
He chuckles as he leans down to kiss the top of my head.
“Heard this was the place to go for art supplies.”
I laugh, kissing his chest before I pull away.”
“No, I mean here, in Chicago.”
He shrugs that cocky, smug shrug and grins in that infuriatingly sexy way as I bite my lip.
“Because I live here now.”
My jaw drops.
“Wait, what?”
“I mean, I can’t exactly commute to the Art Institute from Southworth. Shit, Emily, that it’s like a twenty-hour drive.”
He just keeps grinning at me as I shake my head.
“Wait, wait, you’re seriously going to AI?”
“Seriously.”
My smile grows wider, and before I know it, and before I can even think about it, I’m tumbling into his arms and searing my lips to his. I whimper as I kiss him, those big hands holding me so tight as I lose myself in the kiss, pouring my heart out into it.
Suddenly though, I yank away and jab a finger at him.
“Did you seriously drop out of Winchester?” I hiss, suddenly angry. Angry because him letting go of a golden ticket like that, even if it means him being here right now, is more than I can take.
“Goddamnit, Ethan! I told you, you have to grad—”
“Emily!” he laughs, pulling me close, his hands on my arms. “I did.”
“In the month since I left?”
“Yup.”
He grins.
“Finished my credits, took a few state-qualifying exams, and got my GED.” He shrugs. “See this cute chick I know told me I should try applying myself from time to time.”
I blush, chewing at my lip. But then I scowl again, shaking my head.
“Ethan you can’t just—”
“I did,” he says quietly. “I already did, Emily. I’m technically a high school graduate, and I took the portfolio I’d shown to Rhode Island School of Design and showed it to the admissions board at AI here in Chicago.”
“And they accepted you halfway through a semester?”
He shrugs again, and this time it’s my turn to grin smugly.
“Damn right they did,” I purr softly, sliding back into him. “Because you’re insanely talented.”
He smiles.
“Thanks.”
“Anytime—”
“No, I mean thanks for kicking my ass to get it in gear,” he says quietly before he leans down and kisses me softly.
“What did your dad say?”
He chuckles.
“He, uh, he has some opinions. But he respects mine.” He grins. “Plus, I’m not just hear to paint some pretty pictures, you know.”
“Oh?” I arch a brow as he grins slyly.
“Nope.”
“Well do tell. What else do you have up your sleeve, mister.”
“An investment.”
“What kind of investment?”
His smile grows, and his eyes burn into mine.
“You.”
I blink.
“What?”
“You’re too fucking good to be working here and at that bar, Emily. You’re way too fucking talented.”
I swallow. “Ethan, I’m not looking for a handout,” I say thinly.
“Good, because I’m not giving you one. What I’m giving you is an investment in your career. Capital for a real work space, supplies, show and gallery fees, and all of that.”
My lips tighten.
“You know some might call that a handout.”
“Oh, you’re gonna pay interest, believe me.”
I giggle, slapping his arm as he grins.
“Ethan, all of that would be a lot of money.”
“Yeah?” he reaches into his jacket pocket.
“Would this work?”
He hands me a folded-up check, and I swallow thickly as I take it. I glance up at him, and he nods at. And slowly, I unfold the slip of paper, and my jaw drops.
…It’s a check for five-hundred thousand dollars.
“Ethan!”
I gasp, staggering back, my hand flying to my lips.
“No. No, absolutely—”
“Absolutely yes, you’re taking it.”
I shake my head.
“Jesus Christ, where did you even get this kind of—”
“You know all of those rich trust fund douchebags at Winchester?”
I roll my eyes. “How could I forget.”
“Right, well, turns out…” he grins. “Turns out I’m kinda one of them. I mean, not the douchebag part. At least mostly not.”
“But the money?”
He nods. “It’s part of the trust my dad set up for me.”