Sweet Love - Mia Kayla Page 0,40

That’s what it is,” Alyssa added. “Anyway, I have to get some work done today.” She pushed her Tupperware and silverware into her designer lunch bag and stood.

When Casey stood Connor put his hand on my leg to still me.

Heat. Holy hecka, heat spread throughout me. My gaze dropped to the table, warmth spreading to my cheeks, no doubt flaming my face red.

“I need to talk to Charlie about our rebranding session tonight.”

Casey waved a hand. “Okay, have fun.”

“Okay. See you guys soon.” Then, Alyssa smirked. After a slow nod, she winked.

What the hell was that?

When they were out of sight, Connor turned to face me. “So, we’re still on for tonight?”

“Yep. I just need to go home and grab my sketchbook. Then I’ll come back to the office.”

“Chinese food sound good?”

“Yep.” I crumpled up my sandwich bag, my gaze strictly focused on the bag in my hands, on the table, anywhere but meeting his eyes.

“Charlie, are you going to answer only to the table?”

My eyes flipped up to meet his. “I’m ready for tonight. Chinese is okay.” And then I laughed because he did look ridiculous. “Right now, I have to go. A thing called work calls to me.”

I walked to the garbage, and he followed.

“Do you like the outfit?”

“Honestly, it’s over-the-top crazy. You’re not going to make everyone in the factory wear that, are you? ’Cause that’s straight-up cruel.” I laughed.

“No. I think people would quit. Plus, I really wore it for you.”

The smile from my face slipped, and he answered my silent question.

“And now, you’ll no longer picture me naked. Instead, you’ll picture me in this pink outfit.” He wiggled his eyebrows as though he were so sure. “See you tonight.” After he tugged at the strands of my hair, he about-faced, and he was gone.

No longer picture him naked?

Yeah, right.

Highly unlikely.

Chapter 13

Charlie

“Hey,” my mother called out.

My hand was on the door and I was on my way out of the house; going back to the office. I’d been purposely trying to avoid her, grabbing breakfast on my way to work this morning.

When I thought of my artwork in the trash, I wanted to cry all over again. I tried to dim this anger I had toward her, but it festered deep inside of me.

“Charlie,” she called out again when I didn’t answer.

Slowly I turned around.

She approached, bringing me my water bottle and the small gesture caused my heart to tighten. She handed it to me, and I tossed it in my oversized purse.

She tucked an escaping strand of hair behind my ear and smiled.

“I missed you this morning, Honey.”

I swallowed down the hurt and pain and forced a smile to match hers. Missed me? I miss you more, Mom.

Maybe she didn’t know what was being thrown out? Maybe someone else threw my paintings out?

That was a possibility. It could be.

I didn’t want to start an argument or worry that I hurt her feelings, like so many times before—too many to count—so I bit my tongue.

“I just had to be at work extra early today and it’ll be a late night tonight as well. I’ll be having dinner at the office. I just came home to grab my sketchbook.”

The smile slipped from her face and she stepped into me, reaching for my hand. “Okay, but we’ll have to schedule dinner, just the two of us. I miss my girl.”

I squeezed her fingers between mine. “I love that idea.”

Part of the reason that I wanted to do this exhibit was to showcase all my artwork, all in one place so she could see it all at once. Then maybe seeing everything and witnessing everyone admire my work, she’d realize that this was not just a hobby for me, that it was built in my bones—to create.

“Remember that day that I told you I have something special planned?” I asked. “You blocked out that date, right?”

“Of course.” She ran one hand down my cheek, pinching my chin. “It’s already blocked.”

Automatically I wrapped my arms around her and melted against her chest. The movement surprised her, but a nanosecond later, her arms wrapped fully and tightly around me. I sighed into her, needing this, needing this closeness from her.

We were back at it, in the same room—the conference room—with the same Chinese food, brainstorming on concepts.

Concepts. Concepts. Concepts.

But things were different now, weren’t they?

Luckily, we were so deep in thought that there was no room to think of him naked. Not when we were on a deadline.

I sat Indian-style on