work necessary. I’m here to rest and recuperate, nothing more,” he said, taking his beer. As he swallowed down a healthy gulp and shifted the conversation into safer realms, Elijah changed that vow.
Not about avoiding trouble or needing to rest. That vow was rock solid. But the naked woman part? No point making any hasty decisions on that subject until he saw what Mack came up with.
Because, after all, who could resist a bow?
* * *
MY LIFE ROCKS.
My life is right on track.
My life kicks serious butt, and I love every minute of it.
Ava repeated the affirmations on each exhalation, the soothing tones of bells and chimes ringing softly in time with the words. The gentle scents of sandalwood, vetiver and neroli wrapped around her bare shoulders, as soft as the raw-silk fabric of the lush, oversize pillow she sat on.
As the music slowly faded, so did her words. But her breath stayed even, slow and easy. After a few seconds of silence, she scanned her body for any tension, but she found no tightness, no stress. She felt great.
She let herself grin as she opened her eyes. She knew from experience to give herself a few moments to find her balance before pushing to her feet.
It never failed to make her smile that she felt as if she were opening her eyes to a rainbow. Colors glinted from every corner. The walls were a soothing teal, the low-slung couch sapphire blue. Drapes framed the floor-to-ceiling window in shimmering shades of emerald and amethyst. Pillows in a myriad of shapes, sizes and colors scattered like jewels over the couch, pouring onto the floor. A couple of topaz beanbags rounded out the seating around the low, surfboard-shaped ebony table.
On the far side of the room, partitioned off by a curtain of beads, was a hanging bed covered in white, with more pillows strewn over the surface so it looked like a fluffy cloud amid all the rest of the color. She had a few antique pieces here and there, a tiny kitchenette opposite the bed, with the only door other than the front one opening to a dollhouse-size bath.
The studio was unquestionably small. Cozy, she liked to call the space. It was actually the attic level of a renovated three-story Victorian. The polished wood floors creaked, and the plaster walls tended to let in the cold in the winter and the heat of summer.
Ava loved it.
Her mother hated it. It’d taken Ava a year or so to decide whether she loved it out of spite, a bit of rebellion against a domineering mother who considered her own opinions pure gold. Eventually, though, Ava had come to accept that the space simply suited her, and the whys didn’t matter. She considered that a sign of maturity.
Rising with a lithe move, Ava stretched her arms high overhead. Grasping each hand around the opposite wrist, she twisted from one side, then the other, pulling air all the way into her toes and greeting the sun rising outside her window.
She prepared for her day with Mack’s offer playing through her now-clear mind. It was tempting—so tempting—to say nope, she didn’t want commitments and responsibilities cluttering up her life. But the fact that she was automatically angling for the easy route told her that she shouldn’t.
She needed to consider the partnership seriously. Beyond the money, what it would cost? Was it worth the risk? How big of a difference would it make in her life, and could she be just as happy without it?
Ava gathered her gear for the day. Her duffel, with street clothes and a change of workout gear. Her iPhone, earbuds, charger, wallet. A new bottle of shampoo to replace the almost-empty one in her locker. Car keys, although she walked to work in good weather.
She capped the protein smoothie in her insulated mug and added it to the duffel, then crossed to the door. Hanging there on the wall by the heavy polished oak was a oval silver beveled frame, not more than three inches tall.
It didn’t hold a photo, but instead a swatch of pale blue fabric and a tiny lock of hair, shades deeper than her own nutmeg brown.
Ava kept most of her previous life exactly where it belonged—in the past. She’d locked away the memories, buried the emotions, let go of the reminders.
Except for this.
Her talisman. To remind her that while things might be simple now, she’d once held a life that made every complication worthwhile.
Dominic Prescott.
Her darling baby.
There was no buffer that could dim the pain of waking up one morning, surprised that the four-month-old had slept through the night. Riding high on her first full night’s sleep since his birth, breasts full to aching, she’d all but danced into the nursery to nurse her baby.
But he wouldn’t wake. He wasn’t breathing. He’d never opened those gorgeous eyes again. Other than the hysteria, Ava didn’t remember much after that. Not her husband finally coming home after three frantic days of trying to reach him. Not the doctor’s pronouncement. Not the funeral. Not the multiple people who’d tried to comfort her through a pain that couldn’t be assuaged.
SIDS. Sudden infant death syndrome. A clean, tidy term for the end of her world. A hideous loss that had blown her already-fractured marriage all to hell.
The only way she’d been able to survive was to leave it all behind. The perfect home she hadn’t chosen. The smothering attention of her controlling parents. Her charming prince of a husband who’d been too busy battling the world’s dragons to give a damn.
It had taken months of therapy to pull her out of the depths of depression enough to function, and another year to work through the guilt and hatred and self-blame. But, eventually, she’d accepted that her old life was over. Gone in a blaze of misery.
From those ashes, her new life had formed. The only thing she allowed herself to bring was her love for Dominic. Her sweet boy.
Ava pressed her fingers to her lips, transferred the kiss to the frame.
Then, chin high, she pulled her bright mood around her once again, grabbed the bag of granola she’d made the night before and headed out the door.
Five minutes later she stepped through a rustic grapevine arch into the lush bounty of greens and golds. Not as big as the Napa Community Garden, this plot served Chloe’s small neighborhood.
“Good morning,” Ava called when she spotted the blonde crouched low between rows of flowering tomato vines.
“We’re having fresh strawberries for breakfast,” Chloe declared in lieu of a greeting. She rose with a smile, tipping the basket to show off the bright red fruit. “And a couple of nectarines, a sprig of grapes and, mmm, the first pears of the season.”
Her stomach growling in appreciation, Ava gestured to the rest of the bounty. “And the cabbage, beets and cucumbers?”
“Juice bar,” Chloe declared, stuffing the vegetables into a cotton bag. “I’m trying a couple of new recipes. Want to be my tester?”
Ava eyed the sad-looking spears of asparagus and, remembering how long it had taken to rinse away the bitter coating of the last recipe she’d tested, shook her head. “Not even a little bit.”
