Page 83 of The Saint

Tyrone stepped forward, fist extended to bump against mine. “You clean up well.”

“Could say the same about you.” All five of them had on their Sunday best, and I was glad they looked as uncomfortable as I felt.

Tyrone shrugged, looking around the room. “Can’t believe the turnout. Rolly’s kept this shit from us for years. I can’t believe this is all his.”

“Believe it,” I told him gazing around the room. “He’s always been talented.”

“I don’t think talented is the right word.” Jamal stepped forward, offering the same fist bump Tyrone had. The other three followed suit, though Dion kept looking over his shoulder at the nude on the wall.

I nudged his shoulder. “You can buy that, you know. It hasn’t sold yet.”

He turned to me with a “you’re fucking crazy” look. “I couldn’t afford that if I cashed out every last dollar my entire family had. Do you know, are they selling the little postcard-sized versions?” he asked, holding up his hands to indicate the size. “I could probably swing for one of those.”

Laughter broke free, and I shook my head. “I don’t believe they have any. But I’ll make a suggestion to the artist on your behalf.”

“Really?”

The guys laughed, then quieted as Erika Lovegood strode over to the painting. Dion groaned as she taped a Sold sign on the wall.

“Don’t worry.” I slapped his chest with the back of my hand. “It’ll be here all night. Possibly even for a couple of days, depending on who the buyer is. You can probably come back and see her again before then.”

His cheeks darkened, and Tyrone rolled his eyes at him. “You’d think he just lost his girlfriend.”

I laughed with them, then turned to look across the room. The crowd around Rolly had diminished slightly, and my whole body hummed with excitement. I’d wanted to be with him all day, but Alvarez had the time change at the last minute on his shipment.

“You talk to Rolly yet?” I asked no one in particular.

Jamal answered, “Yeah, saw him a bit ago before the crowd got too big.”

Nodding, I dragged my gaze away from Rolly and his parents. “I’m gonna head over.”

“See ya at the park tomorrow?”

“Sure thing.” I took a sip of my champagne, then worked my way across the room, careful not to twist an ankle and make a fool of myself. I almost did. When Rolly looked up from the person he was talking to, when his slate-blue eyes locked on mine, I felt like the boat I was riding in ran ashore.

His smile felt like a punch to the chest.

The way he handed his champagne glass to his mother without looking felt like a smooth caress.

And when he walked away from them without a word, eyes zeroed in on me, strides long and purposeful, his body pulsing with energy… it made me feel like I was the only one in the room. Like he’d come to strip me bare, to slide into my throbbing center and make sweet love to me.

“Carina,” he whispered as his hands grasped my cheeks and he pulled me to him, his lips coming gently down on mine.

I was lost at sea, pulled under by a tidal wave, scorched on a raft in the middle of the ocean. My grip on my glass loosened, but I was so wrapped up in Rolly’s kiss and touch and presence that I didn’t hear it fall.

Rolly’s lips left mine, his forehead pressed against my own, and for a moment, I forgot where we were.

“I saved this for you.”

Rolly peeled himself away from me, and we both turned our attention to the man who’d spoken at our side. Jet Pasternelo stood holding an almost empty glass of champagne, the rim smudged with pale lipstick.

“Thanks, brother.” Rolly took the glass, then handed it to me. “I believe you dropped this.”

Heat raced across my cheeks, then flushed through my entire body as Rolly took a small step back and dragged his gaze down my chest and legs. He shook his head, stepped toward me once more, and enveloped me in his strong arms.

“Why are you always so beautiful?” His lips pressed to the top of my head, and I almost lost my glass again.

Looking up at him, I smiled. “I missed you.”