The Falcon Ridge Series Book 4: Art of a Girl

(Chapter song ‘Everybody's Changing’ by Keane)

SAMMY

"No. Come on."

The afternoon sun glows across the rooftop of Bastian’s house, but I’m not worried about that. I’m worried that my faithful, special truck has now stalled out in Bastian’s driveway. I thump my head on the steering wheel of my truck. If I don’t get this going, I just know he’s going to see it. I already feel the headache coming on.

I heave a heavy sigh and blow a lock of hair out of my face. I pull my hair up into a ponytail, throw open the door and get out. With irritation on my face, I open the hood, climb up and lean under it. I know a few things, but without help from Dylan, I may need to call a tow truck. Damn it.

"Hey! What did I say about that thing?!”

I almost banged my head on the hood as I pull my body out of the engine compartment and turn my eyes to an angry Bastian stomping toward me.

"It's not like I did it on purpose!" I scowl in frustration.

He stops at the fender and glances into the engine. "What happened?" He crosses his arms.

I jump down off the front bumper. "I don't know. It just stalled out." I motion to the truck with defeat on my lips. I hate that I’m this weak in front of him after what I did a few days ago.

I haven’t really talked to him since I turned down his date invitation. I kind of felt bad because I think there was some sincerity in there somewhere. I just couldn’t get past that fact that he thought his cash and glamor would make me swoon. He has a lot to learn about me.

I, also, haven't slept properly since then because now I dream about him constantly and it's starting to get irritating. Not only that, but he's at the front of my mind everyday, too. I can barely get any work done. He’s all I can think about.

He rolls up his sleeves and I watch his thick forearms flex as he does. "Move." He demands.

"Rude." I mumble under my breath and he shoots me a look.

I step back as he climbs up and goes under the hood. Within a few minutes, the truck roars to life.

I flick my eyes between the pompous rich man and my beat up old truck. "Thank you. What did you do?"

He jumps down, I hand him a rag and he wipes his hands. "Just a loose connection."

"How did you know to do that?" I ask as I close the hood.

He shrugs. "I used to tinker with cars as a hobby in my teen years. You should really get that thing into a shop. It's a mess."

I walk to the door. "I've been meaning to, but..." I open the door, get in and roll down the window.

"But, what?" He asks.

I shake my head. "Nothing. Thanks again."

I don't need the rich Alpha knowing that there are times when I fight for gas money, let alone repairs to my truck. Between the dying business and all my time taken, I can’t afford having this truck in the shop for as long as it needs it. I know it seems counter productive, but Eric and Dylan help me maintain it. I’ll have to tell them about the connection and they can take a closer look.

"Hey. No problem." He points at me as he walks to his garage. "Don't let it happen again."

“Yes, Alpha." Of course he has to throw his superior attitude at me. It's clear that he isn’t interested in speaking to me differently and that’s OK.

I look in my rearview mirror as his garage door opens and his blue sports car zips out. He shoots past me, through the gates and turns sharply onto the road.

I chew my cheek. He did yell at me less. He didn’t have to help me and he didn’t exactly insult me.

Is it a sign I should pay attention to? Is it a coincidence? Did I catch him on a good day?

I pull the gear stick to drive and drive through the gates. As I drive down the road, I think, it’s a small gesture. Paying me 500 for a bad sketch is a bigger one. I know that drawing wasn’t even close to my best. But he was drooling over it harder than a lot of the women I’ve seen him parade through his house.

Ok. I’m not saying I’m interested in his magical dates, but maybe I should start paying attention to what he’s not saying. It seems his words and actions aren’t lining up. If I do that, maybe I can figure out the complexity of Bastian Cole.

****

In my office, the events of the last few days are really starting to get to me. I can't seem concentrate. I’ve thought about directly asking Bastian about what he’s doing, but I feel like all I’ll get back some self-absorbed answer that will include some point that says I should be privileged to be in the same room with him.

I’m so engrossed in deciding how I should handle this, I didn’t hear Eric walk in. I guess he had been talking to me and I tuned him out completely.

My thoughts are broken when he leans on my desk and stops me from flipping through my swatch book. "What's wrong with you?"

I meet his eyes and blink. "Nothing."

I’m not getting into this with him. I can already hear the backlash he’d throw out.

"Sammy. I've seen that look before." He raises a brow and sits in the chair in front of my desk.

I stare at Eric. "What look?"

"That look." He points at my face. "That starry-eyed, dreamy look. The last time I saw that look..."

I point at him and squint my eyes. "Don't even say his name."

He grins. "Who is he?"

"Nobody." I pick up my binders and put them on the shelf beside my desk.

"Sammy, you can't lie to me. I've known you too long. You have a love interest. Who is he?" He walks over to me and leans in the shelf as he folds his arms.

"He's not a love interest." I hold my chin up and organize my books.

He points to the shelf. “Unneeded organization is a sign of avoidance. Who is he?”

I drop my hand and look him over. “No one!”

"So, there is someone." He smiles. "Someone from the mission?"

I groan out a sigh. “Ok. Yes, but no." I sit back down at my desk.

"The pack house?" He smirks.

"No." I avoid eye contact all together.

Again, he grins. "It is. You met someone at the pack house."

"Eric. Stop." I sit back in my chair.

"Who? Do they work there? Someone on the staff. Someone in security?" He pries.

"No. Eric. Just leave it." I scowl with frustration as I pick up a pad and pencil and start involuntarily drawing to avoid him.

"Well, it can't be the Alpha." He chuckles.

I flick my eyes to him, turn my chair around and avoid his eyes like the plague.

"Oh my God, it is."

He walks around my desk, grabs my chair, turns it, then snatches my pad. I huff a breath and slam my pencil down. I lean on my desk and prop my head up on my palm.

“It’s not the Alpha.” I mumble.

He crosses his arms. “Yes, it is, Sam. It's written all over your face. You're seriously not thinking..."

I drop my arm and shake my head. "Never. He's a client. Of course, I wouldn't."

He stands straight and crosses his arms as he ticks his head. "Not that it would be a bad thing. You and the Alpha, from a business standpoint, that would be amazing PR." He raises a brow.

"Are you kidding? Aren’t you the one who’s Mr. Ethics?” I furrow my brow.

“I am. Just… Times being what they are…” He shrugs.

I throw up my hands. “Oh my God! No! I’m not dating the Alpha for advertising points!” I get out of my chair and pace the floor.

He laughs. “I’m not saying that, Sammy. I’m just saying, yes, he’s a client. But at some point, he won’t be and the owner of Sam's Designs dating the richest Alpha in the Alliance would make a great headline.”

“God, no.” I stop and lean on my desk. “The last thing I need is that. I’m just… I’m sick of everything being about money. I couldn’t date him just for that.” I roll my eyes to him.

He leans beside me. “I can respect that. I will say though, what I saw when I came in here, that wasn’t a girl who was worried about his money. You’re worried about something else.”

“Yeah. My mental health.” I grumble.

“I think you’re worrying too much. Sure, the Alpha may be an asshole…” He leans to me. “But, what if he’s not?”

I look at him curiously. “Why are you batting for him? A couple months ago you stood in this office and trash talked him.”

He smiles. “That was before I saw a girl who was almost happy. He’s doing something to you, Sam. I see it. You should, too. Maybe, you should find out what that something is.”

“I’m afraid of what that is.” I look down and pick at my shirt.

He leans closer. “It's ok to be cautious, but don’t be so cautious you miss an opportunity to be happy. I’m not saying to jump in with both feet, but you may find something that nobody can see except you. You can only do that if you take that step.”

“Yeah. I understand that.” I give him a half smile.

Eric does have a point. It’s possible, I’m too quick to judge Bastian. I have to remember he doesn’t know me as well. I really can’t punish him for thinking I’m the same as all his other girlfriends. Especially, if we've never actually had any in depth conversation. He just may not know what to say to me. There is no harm in finding out.

He pushes off my desk. “Whatever you decide, just make sure the job is done before you do anything. I don’t want any conflict of interests here.” He chuckles.

“Don’t worry. There won’t be.” I say quietly as I sit back down in my chair.

I watch him leave and twirl my pencil in my fingers. My eyes float to the paper I was drawing on. The hazel eye stares at me and blonde ponytail almost seems to cry out to me.

Am I being too cautious? Do I think I can handle this?

I pull out my phone and open my contacts. I stare at his number for what feels like 5 minutes. I’m terrified to get involved. A man with Bastian’s attitude could ruin a woman who’s expecting different. But there’s this nagging question and Eric confirmed it.

Could Bastian Cole actually make me happy? Is there something that can connect us under the surface of outward appearances?

“There's only one way to find out.” I say to myself and lean on my desk. I take a deep breath and hit the call button. I look down as I put the phone to my ear.

“Bastian… I'm fine. Um… Can we talk?” I look out to my empty office and pray I’m not making the biggest mistake of my life.