Reckless In Love(48)

Glorious. Breathtaking. Heart-racing. Yet still completely confusing at times.

She watched him, brimming with all her emotions.

"We'll apply the adhesive to the wall, then press on the tiles,"  Sebastian explained, and like a typical teenage boy, EZ grunted in  response. "We need to get the squares straight along the line I've  drawn." Instead of letting EZ try, Sebastian fit the next square,  turning it a couple of times before finding the right position and  pressing it into place. "We also want to make sure we don't get any  black ones side by side." EZ nodded and handed Sebastian another tile  set, then another.

Sebastian was doing it again, telling rather than letting EZ do the work.

Stacey was cooking along nicely with the drawers, so Charlie left her to  it, sauntering close to lean against the doorjamb next to the empty  spot the stove would fit into once the backsplash was done. "Looking  good." Before Sebastian could reach for another tile, she added, "Let's  see what you can do, EZ."

"Me?" EZ put the fingertips of both hands to his chest, his brown eyes wide.

Charlie laughed. "Yeah, you. You've been watching Sebastian closely enough."

Sebastian glanced at her with an expression she couldn't quite read.  Then he nodded. "Sure." He cleared his throat. "Good idea. Lay some in,  EZ."

The edge of tension thrumming through Sebastian's voice was subtle  enough that EZ wouldn't notice. But Charlie heard. Still, Sebastian was  as encouraging as ever, complimenting EZ's technique as he worked.

Once Stacey finished the drawers, she joined them to watch EZ press the  next pieces into place on the adhesive. Clearly distracted by the pretty  girl, he pushed it a little higher than the straight line Sebastian had  drawn.

"You're doing great, especially considering it's your first time,"  Charlie said, feeling Sebastian tense beside her. She wanted to shake  the person who'd taught him there were ugly consequences to  imperfection. She not only learned from her mistakes, but sometimes they  even led to her best accidental creations. "When you're doing this kind  of work, it's good to pause and take the time to check things out," she  coached EZ.

"Cool, will do." EZ backed up a couple of steps, then said, "That side's a little high, isn't it?"

"Good catch," Sebastian said, smiling at the boy. "Why don't you look at  the info on the bucket of adhesive to see if it's still okay for you to  adjust them." While EZ and Stacey both squatted down to read the fine  print, he turned to Charlie. "Can I grab you for a second?"

* * *

Leaving EZ and Stacey to work on the tiles, Sebastian took Charlie's  hand, leading her outside to a semi-private spot beneath one of the  backyard canopies. "Thank you."         

     



 

"Is that really what you want to say to me?"

He appreciated the fact that she didn't pretend she had no idea what he  was thanking her for. "At first," he made himself admit, "I was annoyed  when you stepped in. I know you teach, but I do too. I know what I'm  doing...at least, I thought I did."

"You're great with the kids-"

"But I was still screwing up. I didn't want the tiles to be laid in  crooked so I stopped teaching and started doing it for them instead."  Through the window they could see how well the two teens worked  together, figuring out a great tile pattern all on their own. "Now  they're doing better than I was."

Charlie smiled. "You're welcome." Then she put her hand to his cheek. "Who ever made you feel you had to be perfect?"

He tensed. He didn't want to get into it, not now, as if he were whining  about his childhood again. "I don't need to be perfect."

She studied him. He thought she'd push, but her gaze roamed his face,  then she looked down at his mouth as if suddenly making a decision. And  she stepped into his arms.

Her mouth was soft and sweet against his. Yet again, he couldn't believe  his luck. From the Opera House last Saturday night to a young adult  group home in San Jose was a major difference. He loved watching Charlie  wend her way through a ballroom, wearing another of the sexy little  numbers she and her mom were so good at putting together. But Charlie in  jeans and a work shirt really got his engine going.

Every time he looked at her, every time their lips met, a wave of  emotion rolled over him, swamping him. It was more than mere desire,  more than need. He wanted her in every part of his life, not just his  bed. She brought laughter and joy. She brought him meaning and new  goals. He needed to help her take her career to the very top, to ease  her mother's suffering, even to be her family. While she had only her  mother, he had the Mavericks. They weren't his blood; they were so much  more than blood. And he wanted to share his family with Charlie as well  as her mother.

Susan was probably the only other person in the world who got away with  stepping in to guide him when he needed it. Like Susan, Charlie was  smart, and even more, she was diplomatic. No wonder she'd chosen to  augment her art career by teaching. She was great with people,  instinctively knowing when to offer a suggestion and when to back off,  letting her students learn for themselves.

Yet he couldn't help but worry how she'd do both once classes started  again in the fall. She was already working on the chariot and her new  commissions from six in the morning to six at night-not to mention the  hours he kept her in his bed, loving every beautiful inch of her, never  able to get enough. How much more could she possibly fit in? The number  of galas and events would ease up a bit after the grand opening and the  sculpture's unveiling, but he couldn't see how adding her teaching into  the mix would be a good thing at this point.

"Have you made a decision about your classes yet?" He hadn't pushed her since they'd talked about it with Francine.

"They don't start until the end of September, so I still have a little  time to decide." She glanced back at the kitchen. "Now that they've got  the tile covered, we should finish the cabinets."

Clearly, she didn't want to talk about it any more than he'd wanted to  talk about his father or his past. Because it was in the past. But this  was Charlie's present, and he was too worried about her budding  exhaustion to let it go. "You've got a lot of commissions. I can see  what a great teacher you are, but you don't have to go back, you know."

"I know that." She went quiet for a long moment. "Like I said, I'm not  sure what I want to do yet." Her voice squeezed with a note of  frustration. As if she felt conflicted. As if he made her feel that way.

And yet it was his duty to watch out for her. He wasn't pushing. He was  simply offering. "Charlie." He ran his hand down her back, her muscles  stiff under his touch. "You can talk about it with me."

She looked up, and for once, her beautiful eyes weren't clear. She'd gone inward, shutting him out.

Damn it, no. He wouldn't let her shut down, couldn't bear the thought of  it. He needed to keep their connection strong, no matter what it took.

"Come with me." He wasn't thinking straight, but he didn't care as he led her to a shed by the back fence.

"Where are we going? We need to get back to the kids."

No one had been in or out of the shed all day. The door wasn't locked  and he pulled her into the bare, clean space inside. The lone window was  too high in the peak for anyone to see through.         

     



 

"The drawers can wait." He pushed the latch shut on the shed door. "This can't."

* * *

Charlie had loved everything about today. There'd been no need for all  the schmoozing required by the crowded, impersonal galas Sebastian  loved. If she fell asleep exhausted tonight, it would be due to a hard  day's work using her hands, not because she'd worn herself out with  small talk. The Mavericks welcomed and accepted her. It didn't matter  that they were all wealthier than Saudi princes. She fit with them, like  Susan and Bob or Harper and Jeremy, or even Paige.

If only Sebastian hadn't asked her about her classes. But she'd started  it by poking at his past, asking about why he had to make everything  perfect. She shouldn't have brought that up, because it had only led to  his questions. And now her insides were all twisted up. There were all  the letters from the college in the drawer at the bungalow. She had to  make a decision. After Labor Day, the kids would start signing up for  classes, and hers would either be in the catalog or they wouldn't. She  had to do something.

She knew what Sebastian wanted-he'd opened the doors to a bona fide art  career and clearly thought she should step through, reaching for the  success right at her fingertips. Charlie had never been foolish enough  to think she could do everything. She understood you had to make choices  about what you could and couldn't do, and that if you took on more than  you could handle, you'd fail. Yet her heart wrenched at the thought of  telling her dean she wasn't coming back. Lord knew she'd far rather give  up all the parties, the endless schmoozing, being on, on, on all the  time.