“So is this the end of our date?” I try to hide the disappointment in my voice, as the hotel valet opens the door.

“Not even close.” He helps me get out.

The bellman opens the door as we walk into the lobby and tips his hat at us. We bypass the check-in desk, meaning Dean probably has the keys to a room.

He leads me over to the bank of elevators and since the doors are glass, I try to hide my expression from my reflection.

“Something wrong?” he asks as the doors glide open.

I don’t say anything. I just shake my head.

He has the audacity to smile, and then he presses “P” for the penthouse and swipes a key against the pad.

Crossing my arms, I look away from him and step to the other side of the elevator car, but he grabs me and pulls me back against him.

As the doors open, I can’t help but be in awe of how amazing and beautiful the suite is. Set against the backdrop of the city, the windows that line the far side of the room are letting in the lights from downtown.

Dean hits the lights and I stand still, noticing that there is no furniture in the room at all. There are only massive frames hanging on the wall. Refusing to believe they’re what they seem, I slowly approach the one directly in front of me and run my fingers along the bottom of its frame.

A Le Blanc...

Dean slips his arms around me from behind. “He really was the best of his era...You were the one who told me that originally.”

Still in shock, I shake my head in disbelief. “How did these get here?”

“I met a collector a few months ago. I responded to a break-in at his home. I helped to recover most of the paintings, and he was grateful that I was able to find and return them to him. He said if I ever needed anything, just ask, so...”

“I just can’t believe you did all of this...” I turn around to face him. “So, you made the reservation just for this?”

“Yes,” he says smiling. “We’re only here for the art. I’ll fuck you back at home.”

Chapter 27

MIA

MIA: Help me...I think something’s terribly wrong.

AUTUMN: What is it?

MIA: I think I’m falling for Dean...again.

AUTUMN: NO! STOP IT! STOP IT NOW! (Was that dramatic enough?)

MIA: I can’t help it...He’s taken me out on a date every night for two weeks straight. And I lie to you not, the sex gets better each and every time. (Not even close...You left out “WTF”. That would’ve sealed the deal :-) )

AUTUMN: Does your brother know about these “dates”? And where the hell has he taken you? (I’ll make sure it’s more believable next time.)

MIA: No, he’s been busy with Sea of Ink. He’s been working 10-12 hour days for a while, so I doubt he would notice anyway. He’s taken me sailing, swimming, and to a bunch of different bars and restaurants downtown. He even showed up to my gallery and booked a private tour just to spend time with me on an overtime day. Am I screwed? Be honest.

AUTUMN: Depends. Have the two of you discussed the end of senior year yet? Has he at least said sorry?

MIA:  No.

AUTUMN: Have the two of you even discussed it?

MIA: :-(

AUTUMN:  Just wait until you’re both secure in your current state of la-la-land and ask him about it. You can’t build something together for the future without addressing the past. (Promise to call me later with details about the sex.)

MIA:  I will...I’m definitely going to wait like you said, until we’re both in a good place with each other. (Totes :-) )

I put my phone back into my pocket and look out at Dean as he pumps gas into his car. He surprised me today after work and insisted on taking me somewhere for a few hours.

Like a teenage girl all over again, I happily agreed, but now, after texting Autumn, I’m wondering if I made the right decision. I’m wondering just how long our pseudo relationship can last, if this is simply a house of cards that’ll blow away with our next wind of arguments.

This time, I ignore the slight sinking feeling in my chest, and I tell my inner logic to go to hell. At least for now.

Just let me have right now...

“You okay?” Dean asks, as he slips into the car.

“I’m fine.” I shut my eyes as he leans over to kiss me. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere close. It’s not that far.” That’s all he offers, a mischievous grin on his lips.

I lean back in my seat as he pulls onto the street. As he turns on the music and a band from our past begins to play, I wonder if now would be a good time to talk.

“Just tell me what happened to you that made you act that way toward me all of sudden?” “Do you know how badly you hurt me?” “Do you even care?” “Do you know that I still love you, as much as I don’t want to?”

I go over each of the conversation options in my head, but neither seems fitting enough. And by the time I settle on, “Can we please just have ten minutes to get whatever we want off our chest at some point tonight?” Dean is pulling into the parking lot of ‘Portland Police Training Facility.’

“Did you leave something at work?” I ask.

“Not at all.” He parks the car and gets out, walking over to my door. “Just trust me.”

He walks me inside and leads me down a few sets of steps into a basement. When he hits the lights, I can see what appears to be a colossal stock room. There are never-ending aisles stocked with bullet proof vests, radios, and flashlights.

Leading me past two double doors, he hits the lights once more and I realize we’re in a gun range.

“You want to teach me how to shoot you?” I ask.

“I highly doubt you’ll ever want to do that.” He pulls me into one of the small glass firing rooms and points at the target that’s far away from me. “Even if you were capable, I’m pretty sure you’d miss.”

“Want to bet?”

He ignores my question, not looking threatened at all. “Lift your hands up.”

I oblige and he takes a vest from the shelf next to me and places it onto me. He secures the straps tightly, and then he places a pair of tinted wraparound glasses over my face.

Grabbing a pair of sound blocking earbuds and a pair of pink earbuds, he looks at me, “You’ll be able to hear me through these, but do not take them off until we’re a hundred percent done here. Clear?”

I nod and he hands them over to me. When I put them on, I notice him grabbing a vest for himself. I watch him get into everything extremely quickly and I briefly wonder if he’s brought any of his dates here.

“I haven’t,” he says, shaking his head. “Just you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The fact that you clearly still have a problem talking out loud to yourself.” He smiles. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever brought here.”

I blush and he pulls out a rack of small guns. He looks as if he’s determining which one I’d be best suited to handle, and then he picks up a small silver firearm.

“This is a Beretta, a semi-automatic,” he says. He shows me how to hold it, how to check the clip, and the correct way to pull the trigger.

“We’ll start with this one and move up to different ones as you get more comfortable.” He gives me the gun and gestures for me to turn around and face the target.

Standing behind me, he places his hands on my hips and whispers, “Let me know if you’re uncomfortable at any point.”

My hands shake as I reposition the gun. I stand still for a while, forgetting all the instructions he gave me just minutes ago. All I can concentrate on now is the slight impression of his cock against my body, as he leans into me and the faint and intoxicating scent of his cologne.

“Spread your feet apart slightly, square your shoulders and squeeze the trigger when you’re ready,” he whispers. “That’s it.”