She shook her head. “I always wished I had one, but after what happened to me—” Damn it, she was doing a terrible job of keeping things light. “I’m just glad there wasn’t another girl in the family to take pictures of, and that my mom wasn’t filming that trip with us either.”
Thankfully, Oscar’s loud snuffling at the edge of the counter where the pie sat helped her shake off the darkness that threatened. She turned the oven on and put the pie in, figuring it would be ready to eat by the time the sun set. “Come on, big boy, let’s go pose for the painter.”
It was like crossing the room with a lion at her side—while another one held a paintbrush, his dark gaze both intense and protective. She knew she shouldn’t let herself become too dependent on Drake, but unlike pretty much everyone else in her world, she couldn’t imagine him ever attaching strings to anything.
As soon as she sat in the leather lounger, Oscar got up in her lap, then turned his muzzle so that he could rest it on her shoulder like a baby. She laughed as she stroked him. “I love you too.”
“Lucky furball.”
Drake’s brush didn’t stop moving the way it did whenever things got really serious, but his soft comment still hit her smack dab in the center of her chest.
Did he really mean it? Would he actually want her to love him? And if she did, was there a chance that he would ever love her back? Truly love her, mistakes and all?
Just like that, her fears came rushing back. So many fears. Too many. She truly was sick of being scared.
And yet, she thought as she looked around the room at the paintings propped up against the walls, the woman on Drake’s canvases didn’t look scared. Pensive. Sensual. Confused. Wild. But not scared. Above all, it was bravery and strength that shone through.
She’d meant it when she told him that she didn’t understand how he saw so much, even the things she could barely see in herself. Rosa wanted to be brave, wanted to be strong like the woman in his paintings.
The only problem was that she didn’t know if being strong meant staying here with him...or walking away without letting him get any closer to her and her messes.
Only her body had clear answers right now, with the pleasure he’d given her—the pleasure they’d given each other—nowhere near close to fading. Turning to stare at him now instead of the paintings, she was filled with such longing to kiss him, to touch him, to love him with everything she had during whatever time they still had together. He was so intuitive. Did he know that the only time in a very long while that she’d truly felt strong, brave—good—had been in his arms? Almost as though his bravery, his strength, had been pouring through his skin to hers.
There was nothing she wanted more than to be right back there in his arms again. But since Drake wanted to paint until sunset and she refused to do anything that would distract him from his calling, she decided she needed to do something to keep her hands busy and off of him. Something more than just being pinned in place by his huge sweetheart of a dog.
As if he could read her mind, Oscar climbed off her lap and back onto his bed so that she could grab a small blank canvas from Drake’s stash. “Can I use this?”
It took him long enough to answer that she knew he must have already gone deep. “Use anything.”
She loved that feeling, when she got so lost in something she was making that everything else fell away. She was glad that after months of being blocked, he had finally found his way back into the groove.
Grabbing her needles and thread from her bag, she took the canvas back to the leather chair and began to stitch. She’d never again take for granted this wonderful feeling of being warm and sated, with a dog snoring at her side and the sun setting out over the ocean. But best of all was knowing that Drake was there, creating alongside her.
Her knight in shining armor, who had already given her so much more than any fairy-tale prince could have.
Chapter Seventeen
Long after the sun had set and the timer on the oven had dinged for the apple pie, Rosa remained utterly absorbed in the project on her lap. Oscar was sprawled beside her on the floor, belly up, as peaceful and happy as Drake had ever seen his big lump of a dog.
Drake hadn’t minded being two bachelors—one human, one canine—rattling around his cabin and New York City penthouse. But when Rosa was with them, his space became warmer. Brighter. So much more alive. Even as she worked quietly with great concentration, she was all those things.
At last, she looked up at him. “Oh no!” She jumped up, dropping the canvas on the chair. “I forgot the pie.”
“I got it.”
Halfway across the room, she was close enough for Drake to pull her in for a kiss. She immediately melted against him, her arms circling his neck as she kissed him back. He was a beat from carrying her into the bedroom again when he heard her stomach rumble.
“You’re hungry. Come share my pie.”