Sway (14 page)

people. But Daisy, as per usual, was

different. Her energy recharged him.

She was intelligent and creative.

Inquisitive. Passionate about the

things she believed in so they had a

fabulous debate about gas taxes.

He even found a decent parking

space near the museum and they

walked the few blocks, her hand

tucked in his.

She looked at art the way he did,

he noted. Her gaze went intent as she

took it in and then she sort of went

away if she liked the piece.

They spent hours there. He’d never

actually spent hours at a museum on a

date. Especially not with a woman

who loved art as much as he did. She

asked questions and took notes.

Sometimes she made a quick sketch

on a pad she kept tucked in her

pocket.

He liked Daisy Huerta. In that
like-

her
, like-her sort of way. It was as

sweet as it was hot, the way she

made him feel. She was remarkably

old-fashioned in some ways. At the

same time, she was confident in a

way he found incredibly attractive.

Beauty never hurt and she had it in

spades. She had a quick wit and an

ability to hear other people’s

perspectives missing in so many.

They’d come back down to the

south lobby and they’d paused and

looked at the statues.

“I was here a few weeks ago for a

fund-raising gala. I like what they do

here,” he said as they went down the

stairs.

“Me too. My friend, the one who

gave me the passes, he has a season

thingy so when he gets close to

renewing and has any passes left, he

gives them to me.”

He resolved right then to buy her a

membership when he got home.

“I like that you enjoy art. Makes

you even sexier. Have you ever taken

one of the docent tours? Really

amazing.” Her eyes lit and he found

himself smiling.

“My

great-aunt

has

vision

problems, she’s clinically blind.

They have a program, amazing really.

I came with her when she went on a

special tour here. Specially trained

docents present the art through

description and there were some

things they could touch to get an idea

of brushstroke and all that stuff.

Marvelous.”

She paused and the light, pale

winter light, shone through the

windows and over her skin. “I had no

idea. What an awesome program. I

can’t imagine what it would be like

not to be able to wake up and see all

my art.” She turned in a circle. “All

this beauty and creation. I’m glad she

didn’t have to lose it either.”

She stood there, her hair held back

with a wide, red headband. She wore

makeup, but only a small amount. Her

sweater hugged that body. It wasn’t

tight, but it caressed her tits, slid

along the nip at her waist and down

over the flare of her hips. The pants

had wide legs and a pinstripe. The

Doc Martens completed the picture.

She was so pretty there wasn’t

anything he could do but dip to kiss

her, making himself stop after a

heartbeat, or two. Want of her always

there roared through him, slammed

against his control.

“I’m ready for doughnuts,” she

said brightly, turning and taking his

arm.

“Well then, doughnuts you shall

have.” He put a hand over the one

she’d laid on his arm and led her out,

happier than he’d been in a very long

time.

It was far too early in the morning the

following Wednesday as she stood in

Mary’s kitchen, dicing onions, trying

to figure out how to broach the

subject.

“Dude, are you going to tell me or

do I have to beat it out of you?” Mary

looked up from where she’d been

assembling the ingredients for the

filling of the pasties she was making

for the day’s special.

“Have you ever…Do you…Ah

god. So have you ever been tied up?

You know, during sex?”

Mary grinned, one of her eyebrows

rose slowly to accompany the

expression. “Really? Get out of

town! I Googled him, you know. Just

to be sure he was on the up-and-up.

He’s ridiculously jump-worthy. And

apparently kinky too. Damn.”

“He’s…oh

my

god,

he’s

unbelievable.

Hard

and

dark

sometimes. Ties me up, yep. With

rope. Hard enough to leave a mark

and I like it. I like it, Mary.”

“Good. What would be the

purpose of being tied up if you didn’t

like it? I’ve never been tied up with

rope. I had a guy once who liked to

hold my wrists when he fucked me.

That was pretty hot. Where can I find

a kinky hot lawyer?”

Daisy laughed, letting her tension

fall away. Of course Mary would

understand. Thank God for friends.

“I really like him, Mary. He’s

smart and well read. He can have a

real conversation about things other

than action movies or baseball

scores. He never hurts me. Not you

know, not other than the way he’s

supposed to. And he’s gentle. I know

that sounds weird, but he touches me

like I’m precious and fragile. He sent

me a cashmere wrap because I was

cold at his house. He told me it had

to be cashmere because he didn’t

want anything but something that soft

next to my skin.”

“Damn, he’s good. Jules has met

him and I haven’t. Why is that,

Daisy?” Mary smirked as she

pinched the dough at the edges to seal

the pasty.

“I invited him to dinner on Sunday

but he’s going to be busy for a little

while. His brother is getting married

next weekend I guess and he’s got

family showing up from all over the

country.”

“Did he invite you? To the

wedding?”

“No. It’s fine. It’s a family

wedding and we haven’t been dating

that long. He’s in it too.” And she

wasn’t so sure she’d fit into his

world very well.

“You’re nothing like her.” Mary

shrugged.

“Like who?”

“His wife. No, calm down, his

dead wife. She died six years ago. A

car accident.”

Why hadn’t he told her? She

supposed they hadn’t had the

opportunity for that conversation yet.

She didn’t know a whole lot about

his family and she resolved to ask

after them the next time they saw each

other.

“Well, is that good? That I’m

nothing like her?”

“You’re you, baby. That makes it

good. She was blonde and tall and

had big, white, blonde-white-girl

teeth, you know what I mean. Like

Jules has. Only more a sorority-sister

type.”

“I imagine, given the position of

his family in the region, that’s the

type of girl all his brothers are going

to marry.” And where did that leave

her anyway? Why did she care? It

was just dating. It was more than

casual fun, but clearly he wasn’t

ready for anything more just then or

he’d have invited her to the damned

wedding she didn’t want to go to

anyway.

“Makes me happy that you’re

happy and dating. You work too

much. I’m glad you have this guy.

You should date more.”

“Thanks. He’s nice. I enjoy him.

He doesn’t bug me about working too

hard,” she teased. “He works as

much as I do anyway. Though given

the state of his home, clothing and

car, he does better at it than I do.”

Mary laughed and they kept on

working. “Do you have the time later

to taste some stuff for me? I’ve

worked out a few menus for Gillian’s

wedding. She’s coming over later

tonight but I wanted your opinion

first.”

“Of course. I’m working at the

gallery today. My grandmother called

me last night to tell me she was

taking a mental health day to do

nothing but read in bed.” Daisy

laughed. “I hope I can live with that

much bad-ass attitude when I’m her

age. She does not care about silly

stuff. If she wants a day off, she takes

it.”

“Sure. And also, she’s getting out

of your way. Letting you take the lead

at the gallery.”

She sucked in a breath. “Yes, most

likely.” Theirs was a small gallery. It

predated some of the zoning rules but

it wasn’t in a high-traffic area. They

didn’t get a lot of casual foot traffic

and it was time to figure out what the

future of the gallery held.

“It’s time. She’s been training you

for this your whole life. Not to run

the gallery, but to run your life. All

these jobs you do for your friends,

you don’t need them anymore. You’re

selling your own work well enough

to make your bills just fine.”

She had been socking away money

for years now. It made her feel safe

to have a nest egg. Made her feel like

if an opportunity came along she

might have the chance to take it. Her

savings represented her options.

Her work was selling well enough.

But you couldn’t always count on

regular money coming in. And while

she was a free spirit and all that jazz,

she also knew she had to take care of

her future and have something to fall

back on to supplement her art unless

or until she had a career that was so

financially stellar she could do it

full-time without worry.

Daisy cocked her head as it hit her

just how well Mary knew her.

“You’re sort of scary.”

“I’ve known you nearly all your

life. I love you. Also, you’re not that

mysterious.”

“Damn. I thought I was getting

better at it.”

“You are bright colors and star

jasmine on a summer evening. That’s

better. Anyway. We all love you, but

you don’t need to help Josh out at the

dance studio. He can actually get off

his butt and find a part-time

instructor. All of us have counted on

you to fill in as if you don’t need a

stable schedule and all that. You do.”

“I don’t need eight jobs, you’re

right. But I
like
helping you out on

catering jobs. It’s fun. I get to visit

with you and eat yummy things and

chat with people. I like helping Jules

when she’s in a bind.”

“Well okay, I get that. And I was

going to amend to except when I need

you, because I’m selfish. You’re my

sanity on catering jobs. As a matter

of fact, I’d like to talk to you about

something. I’m thinking about finding

some space to lease here in town.”

“Oh my god, finally!” She bounced

up and down. Mary had been toying

with opening up a restaurant for some

time. Daisy knew how monumental it

was that she was looking for a space

to do it.

“I’m so glad you get it. I’m so glad

you didn’t try to balance my

expectations and all that stuff with a

wishy-washy congratulations.”

Daisy moved around the big block

countertop to hug Mary tight. “I’m

thrilled for you. Now tell me what

you need because you know I’m in

for helping you make this a real

deal.”

“I need your skills. You know

people who run businesses and who

are always having parties. You’re

creative and dynamic. Help me.”

“Oh! I totally do. So you’re

looking for a place to run your

catering business so no storefront or

front of house for a café? Because,

well, I think you should run the

supper club from there. If you have

the catering business you don’t have

to be open for dinner every day.”

Mary exhaled. “Yes, exactly. Oh,

thank you for being so smart.” Mary

squeezed her hands. “Yes, I want to

have dinner there so I’d need front of

house. Doesn’t need to be huge. I

don’t want to get in over my head.”

“Or dig into how awesomely

special it is that it’s not something