make people feel.
Dragging my eyes from the canvas, I looked out the open door to the closed one across the way.
He needs to return everything.
All of it.
Except maybe this print. I’ll let myself keep this one.
I steeled my spine and marched across the hall, rehearsing how to turn down his thoughtful gifts without sounding ungrateful.
But when I got to the door, it wasn’t my fist that hit it. It was my forehead landing with a gentle thud.
Because in that brief delay, I’d thought about how supported I’d been. With my schoolwork. With my reading or swimming. With my less than successful hobby attempts. And with sewing.
It may have started as a way to kill some time and alter a romper, but it had grown into something I loved.
And someone had noticed that.
Choked with emotion, my raw words didn’t insist he take it all back. They expressed the deep, heartfelt gratitude that filled me. “Thank you. I love it.”
For all I knew, I was talking to an empty room, but that was okay.
I’d said what I needed to.
Turning, I headed for my room and my iPad.
If I want to learn how to use that sewing machine before my birthday, I’m going to need to watch videos.
I thought about all the switches and buttons and settings I’d seen.
A lot of videos.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Happy Birthday
Juliet
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”
There was nothing happy about any of my birthdays, but especially not that one. I wanted to climb back into bed, pull the covers over my head, and pretend the day—and the entirety of the outside world—didn’t exist.
When I’d gotten up, Ms. Vera had been waiting in my sitting room with breakfast and a birthday hug.
“Thanks,” I said, forcing a smile I did not feel.
She gestured to the couch, a little bounce in her step as she moved. “Sit. Eat.”
She seems extra chipper.
I, on the other hand, was a gloomy cloud raining on my own parade.
The dreaded day had arrived.
I was eighteen.
An adult.
Able to live on my own, make my own way, all that jazz.
It was time to leave.
“What’s the, uh, plan?” I asked.
She pointed at the food. “Eat. It’s a little chilly, but Cole already adjusted the pool temp so you can swim.”
I smiled, and it was only a little forced.
Of course, they’re not going to boot me out on my birthday.
I would have to ask again later because I needed time to plan and pack. For right then, though, I’d greedily savor my last day in paradise.
Lifting the dome off the tray, the smell of Cajun seasoning and jalapeños burned my nose and made my mouth water. Along with the spicy omelet, there was a piece of toast, a bowl of strawberry and banana slices, and coffee.
A big mug of coffee.
All my favorites.
Happy birthday to me.
Maximo
Heading to talk to Freddy, I stopped as Juliet came out of the kitchen, her strawberry-blond hair in a high ponytail and her body barely covered by a white bikini. She didn’t notice me as she turned toward the backdoor, giving me a view of her rounded ass cheeks peeking out.
Since that meant Freddy had gotten the same view, I clenched my jaw. “Having fun, little dove?”
She spun around, and her startled gasp went straight to my cock. As did the way she breathed, “Maximo.”
Christ, what I wouldn’t give to hear her say my name like that when I’m buried deep inside her.
“Having fun?” I repeated.
She nodded, that damn ponytail bobbing.
“Good.” I was about to turn away when my gaze caught on something.
As I closed the distance, Juliet backed away until she was pressed against the wall, her green eyes locked on me like a pretty doe eyeing a circling wolf. That didn’t put me off.
It turned me on.
I only stopped when I was close enough to count the freckles smattered across her nose. Slowly, I skimmed my bent finger down her side, her skin so damn soft.
As I reached the hem of her bikini bottoms, her breath hitched.
With fear?
Or something much different?
I ran my thumb along the thin, puckered scar above her hip bone.
I knew what it was.
I had enough of them.
I’d given even more.
Still, I rumbled, “Where’d you get this scar, little dove?”
She swallowed hard, her voice uneven when she lied, “I don’t remember.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
She hesitated before admitting, “My dad owed money. They came after me as a warning to him.”
“Who’d he owe?”
“Everyone,” she said with a small, sardonic laugh. “But in this case, it was the Sullivans.”
The Sullivans were small-time loan sharks and big-time gun runners.
“Didn’t Patrick