“Because you never told them.”
“Because they’d talk about it!”
Oh, boy.
“They love your work.”
“They were probably being nice. But now that I’m gone and they can really analyze it—”
Clearly he needed to face the harsh reality of his current situation, and Gwen was the kind of woman who’d give it to him. Besides, she was pretty sure she could make it to the window and out it before he ever got close to her.
“I got you five for the chairs. One chair for May and another for the Russian nutbag.”
He blinked in surprise. “Five? Really?” He gave a small smile. “Wow. That’s…that’s really nice. That’s a thousand bucks. That’s—”
“No.”
“No?”
“It’s ten thousand.”
Lock’s entire body went rigid. “It’s…”
“Ten thousand. Five grand apiece. And they’ve recently purchased the last building on their block, so the entire block is pretty much their territory. Anyway, they’ve already gutted part of it. Most will be more bedrooms, but they’ve started on a library for all their books. They had a guy who was going to design it for them, but they’re firing him and hiring you. We’re talking thousands of books that they have. I told them for that many shelves we’re looking at at least six figures for the design and the building. They said that was fine and they want cherry-wood or something equally dark and smooth.”
Lock shook his head, took a step back, quickly gripping the archway with his hand to keep from falling back. Gwen was at his side in seconds, her arm around his waist and her free hand gripping his forearm.
“Can’t breathe,” he said. “Not breathing.”
“It’s okay. It’s a panic attack. Blayne gets ’em all the time.” She tugged him toward the couch and sat him down. She pressed his back down so his head was between his knees. “Don’t worry. You’re going to be fine.”
He raised his head. “You don’t understand.”
“I do.” She pressed him back down. Pulling off her jacket, she got on the couch behind him and pressed her chest against his back. She kneaded his neck with her fingers and kept him down with her weight. “This is what you’ve wanted all along, isn’t it?” Because no one could do all that he had merely for a hobby. No way. “To create stuff with your hands, to make money from it. And now it’s going to happen.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Why? What’s holding you back?” Other than himself.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen now. I was supposed to do the software thing for the next few years until I saved up enough money to retire. Like when I was forty-five or fifty. And then I was going to move out of New York and maybe up to New Hampshire or Massachusetts, where I’d work on my stuff fulltime and at my discretion. No demands, no risks.”
“Well, life has decided to speed up that little vision. And everything is a risk.”
“But I had it all planned out.” He looked at her over his shoulder, an out-of-control fear in those big brown eyes. “It’s on paper.”
No wonder people were fooled into thinking bears were these adorable, cuddly toys they could give food to and risk getting close to—because they were so damn cute!
“Yeah. I get it. I was there.” She moved off his back and rested on her knees by his side, her arm around his shoulders. “I figured I’d be working for other guys and my Uncle Cally until I was about forty and then, if all went well and I’d built up a good enough name, I’d be able to open my own business. It was my goal, and it was miles off. And then here comes Blayne, tossing the opportunity of a lifetime into my lap. And I almost walked away from it. Because it meant leaving Philly and Ma and my family. Then it hit me…I couldn’t walk away. This was the right time for me, even if I didn’t want it to be. I’m not mated, no cubs, no mortgage. Nothing holding me back except my need to protect my mother from herself. I knew I had to take the chance. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t.”
“Is that why your brother is riding you so hard? About this?”
Gwen blew out a breath. “Mitch has never taken me seriously. Not ever. So in his mind this is something cute and sweet between me and Blayne, but I need to get serious and go back to Philly and Ma. Until I do, he won’t be happy.”
“Well, you’re not going back now.” Lock sat up and she was glad to see some color had returned to his face, and that it wasn’t the beet red it sometimes got when he was thoroughly embarrassed.
“I’m not?”
“If you go back, who’s going to haggle for me?” He relaxed back into the couch and gazed up at the ceiling. “And we’re not charging them five grand each for two rocking chairs.”
“Rocking chairs created entirely by hand by the eminent local artist Lachlan MacRyrie.” His gaze shot over to hers and Gwen didn’t even flinch. “In three years’ time those chairs will be worth four times as much. They’re getting in early and should be damn glad they’re getting the chairs that cheap.”
“Not five.”
“Fine then. Four.”
“Gwen—”
“I’ll go as low as three, but that’s it. And if that Russian gives you a ton of crap she wants you to do, it goes back to five.”
“Yeah, but—”
“I’m not arguing this with you. And you’re going to let me handle the library estimates or that little wild dog will walk all over you.”
Lock snorted. “Sabina?”
“I’m talking about Jess and her weepy eyes.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You carried her around their house.”
“It’s not like I wanted to, but I’m the only one who can get her up high enough so she can do her queenly wave.”
Gwen gave Lock a sidelong glance, amazed she was becoming jealous over a pregnant, happily married wild dog. “That’s pathetic.”
Lock’s heart began to slow down and he felt the panic pass. He hadn’t felt panic like that since he’d walked into the middle of his first firefight. And even then, he didn’t really have the luxury of panic since he’d been way too busy trying not to die.
Yet all this would throw off his carefully timed plans. Should he take the risk and possibly lose all he’d built up so far, thereby setting his ultimate goal back several years? Or not take the risk and end up still doing work he barely tolerated well into his sixties because one excuse after another got in his way?
One thing he did know, he didn’t need the answer tonight. He’d think about it tomorrow.
Gwen checked her watch and winced. “I should get back to the hotel. I’ve got work tomorrow.”
“You’re not staying?”
“I better not.”
Lock grabbed her hand even though she hadn’t moved away. “Don’t go. Stay.”
“I don’t have a change of clothes or even fresh panties, and I can’t go to work without them. I just can’t.”
Tugging her closer, Lock admitted, “I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay with me tonight. I want to wake up with you next to me. If I remember correctly, that’s what boyfriends and girlfriends do.”
“Not all the time.”
“We’re still in the honeymoon stage. Indulge me.”
“Yeah, but—”
“I promise we won’t stay up late.” He could tell she was weakening, barely putting up a fight. “And I’ll get you up early tomorrow so you can get changed before work.”
He pulled her onto his lap, close to his chest with her knees on either side of his hips. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his face against her chest. “Stay with me, Gwenie.” He moved his lips across her collarbone. “Stay with me tonight.”
Her arms slid around his neck, her hands buried deep into his hair. “I’ve got you so figured out,” she said, her voice soft.