“No, I don’t think I will.”
I shove open the car door, jump out, and slam it behind me.
It’s good to know that not all dreams can come true.
Kane leavesme alone for an hour while I take a page out of Keira’s book and pace-stomp back and forth across the third floor of the warehouse.
When he finally shows his face in the kitchen, it’s not for the reason I expect.
“I got space. Metal. Tools. Everything you need. Instead of stomping around up here, you might as well pretend I’m a piece of metal and hammer the shit out of it.”
“But—”
“Offer’s on the table. I got work to do.” He turns away and strides toward the elevator.
I bite my lip, wanting to reject his offer, but also desperately needing the outlet he’s offered me. “I can’t use your expensive parts. I use junk. Scrap metal. Not new stuff.”
He pauses. “Use whatever you want. It’s yours.”
It wasn’thow I expected to spend my day, but I can’t argue that the twisted knot in the pit of my stomach loosens a few degrees with every hour I spend hammering, cutting, shaping, and welding.
I only pretend one of the pieces of metal is Kane for a few minutes. Mostly.
Stubborn ass.
But I can’t lie ... his wonderland of tools and parts gives me new ideas, because he has more than I’ve ever had access to at Elijah’s. And somehow, while my earbuds were shoved in my ears and I was pretending he didn’t exist, two pallets of scrap metal were delivered.
Kane disappeared before I could decide whether or not to thank him.
My brain is working overtime with ideas and designs. I find a notepad shoved between two toolboxes and borrow it to spend a solid hour drawing.
My cell phone doesn’t ring. No one calls from the distillery needing my help. It makes me wonder if Keira gave the order for no one to contact me, but I refuse to let myself think about it when I have a pencil or tools in my hand.
My stomach gnaws at my backbone, and I finally put all the tools away.
When I make it to the kitchen, I find a note on the counter that there’s food in the fridge for me.
This could be my life—my dream life. Working on my art all day, and spending all night with a man who understands me on a level no one else has ever approached. The man that I’m ... falling for.
The man who doesn’t have a place for me in his future.
Growing up the way I did, I learned not to want things, because so often they’re torn right from your grasp. That’s why I built the wall and kept people out.
But Kane demolished it like a wrecking ball. He made me want things.
As I warm up the food he cooked, I realize I should have known better.
I don’t get to have a happily-ever-after.
36
Temperance
After receiving an email this morning from Keira to consider myself on vacation until further notice, I do the only thing I can to retain my sanity and shore up my self-worth—especially because Kane never came to bed last night.
I work.
Now I have three more finished pieces—the large skyline that I finished at Elijah’s that’s in the Tahoe, a fiddle with wire strings that’s perfect for a tabletop, and a piece that I know I won’t deliver to Valentina.