Celt. (Den of Mercenaries #2)(30)

There was something about cleaning that Amber hated.

From washing dishes, only to put them in the dishwasher after because that was what her mother had always taught her to do, to sweeping and dusting every little thing. It might have been a bit easier had she not let her apartment get so bad.

When she had woken up that morning she decided that she was finally ready to tackle the task of unpacking her place. It didn’t help that Kyrnon was supposed to be coming over. She had been all for it, at least until she got to her seventh box and decided she needed a break.

That was an hour ago … and in that time, she had managed to do absolutely nothing but sit on her couch and go through an old photo album.

Procrastination at its finest.

Now that she was back up, sorting through the last of it, she came to a conclusion.

She liked Kyrnon.

Maybe more than she had previously thought, even if she hadn’t heard much from him in the days after she spent the night at his place. The next morning he had texted her, letting her know he’d be out of town for the next few days, but promised he would be back and even set a time for him to come over.

Everything had been good and she had been excited, at least until she hadn’t heard from him. She had texted him a couple of times, but when he didn’t respond, neither did she. Chalking it up to him just being busy, she had put it out of her mind, figuring he would contact her when he could.

But that had been three days ago.

And she still hadn’t heard anything.

Even still, she cleaned her place up as though he was still coming.

It wasn’t that her place was particularly dirty, but cluttered would be a better word. There was always something out, whether canvases stacked against a wall in the corner, books on the coffee table, or loads of painting supplies that seemed to take up far more space than she could have thought possible, but she liked it that way. It made her place feel lived in.

By the time she finished sorting through it all, it actually looked like there was some reason behind the eclectic decor that made up her living room.

It was only going on six, so she still had enough time to grab a shower and cook dinner. She had fretted over what to make, trying to guess what he would and wouldn’t like. She, at least, knew he ate meat, so deciding on steak and baked potatoes wasn’t a hard sale.

Taking her time in the shower, Amber scrubbed away the smell of pine-sol and bleach, inhaling the cool aroma of coconut and lime. And by the time she was back out again and toweling dry, she was sure she smelled like the beaches back home.

Glancing at the clock on her nightstand, Amber turned back to her closet to find something to wear.

Now, the only thing she needed to do was wait.



* * *



Disappointment was an all-consuming, crushing emotion.

It didn’t hit her all at once, rather slowly spreading its way through her as the minutes waned on, until it was the only thing she could think of.

She had been sitting on the couch, watching the wax drip from the glowing candles onto her refurbished hardwood table as she wondered, for what felt like the hundredth time, why she was still sitting there.

It was a quarter to twelve, and she had long since started doubting Kyrnon would show up. But if she was being honest, she had started doubting it hours ago. Kyrnon hadn’t struck her as the type of person to just stand someone up, but what did she really know? She hardly knew him.

And considering she had definitely slept with him the first night she spent with him, that probably wasn’t a point in her favor.

Though every bit of her rebelled at the idea of reaching out to him, she still tried calling him, hoping that maybe something had come up.

But it just rang.

And rang.

Until she had hung up and tossed the phone on the table, refusing to pick it back up no matter how she felt.

And once midnight had come and gone, she finally resolved herself to the truth as she blew out the candles and got to her feet, watching the smoke billow out in soft waves from the spent wicks.

Kyrnon wasn’t coming.

She was glad for the darkness of the room—now she wouldn’t have to see the food that would be left untouched.

Stripping out of her clothes and changing into something far more comfortable, she tossed her outfit in a laundry basket across the room, then burrowed beneath her covers, breathing in the clean scent of fresh laundry.

Closing her eyes, she counted back from a hundred, but it took a few dozen numbers before she was finally able to drift off.



* * *



The day after he stood her up, she was still willing to believe it was all just a misunderstanding.

The second, she was feeling like an idiot for even considering it was anything more than it was.

And by the third, she was making it a point to not think of him at all.

Sure, the night she spent with him was great and it may take her a while to find someone that could top it, but she couldn’t bring herself to let it take over her life.

Stepping back from the painting as she wiped her brow, Amber’s gaze swept over the canvas and all the new details. After a week and a half, she could finally see it taking shape, and with the amount of work she was getting done, she would be finished by her deadline in another ten days. It would probably only take her a week at most to finish the actual painting portion of it, then she could return it to Gabriel for the aging process. As far as her job was concerned, she was only a week away from a five-figure payday.