Whiskey Sharp: Torn. Lauren Dane

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СКАЧАТЬ you two,” she said as she approached her parents.

      Her father kissed her cheek. “Ta bom?” he asked in Portuguese. Are you okay? Are you well? Is everything all right?

      The words, his tone, always centered Cora. It was his way of checking in. Something he’d done their whole life.

      She smiled in response to his question and began to undo all the stuff her mother had done when Walda was paying attention to something else.

      Until she noticed Cora and turned, pointing an accusing finger her youngest daughter’s way. “What are you doing? I just did that.”

      “I’m putting it back the way I had it. Better flow, if anyone is wearing long sleeves they won’t drag through the candles and start a fire. The breeze from the doors opening and closing will also be far enough away that they won’t constantly blow out.”

      “You don’t need candles.” Walda turned back to undo what Cora had done.

      She very nearly gave in and just let her mom have that moment. It wasn’t that big a deal in the larger scheme of things. But she remembered it wasn’t just about a candle right at that moment, but about how she wanted her future to look. She needed to stand up for herself.

      “I like them there. So I don’t need them, I want them.” Cora attempted to sound matter-of-fact as she got between Walda and the candles, putting them back to rights.

      Her mother narrowed her eyes at her, not very used to being told no. Cora just smiled and gave her mother a hug, leading her, along with her father, toward where the others still waited, pretending they hadn’t watched the whole thing.

      “You look nice tonight,” Cora told her. “I didn’t know you were coming. It’s a happy surprise.”

      And it would give a bit more attention to the artists whose work was being sold, which was a very positive thing.

      Walda meant well. Usually. Cora just had to remember that while she continued to work on ways to find her own place in the next phase of her life.

      Even so, Cora’s heart still beat fast in the wake of pushing back against her mother’s interference. It was ridiculous for her to be so anxious about it. She wasn’t weak in other areas of her life.

      For a long time, people thought they could tell Walda no and she’d hear it. But her mother wasn’t there for hearing things she didn’t like.

      Cora could steer her mother, which is what she did to manage her. To keep her out of trouble. But now, she had to tell her mother no, not as an employee, but as a daughter. A younger woman. And one, Cora saw in Walda’s gaze, who was a potential rival.

      Cora now had to step away from her role as Walda-keeper and, as she’d been reminded by several people in the last week alone, into the gallery full-time. She knew more about this gallery from an artistic perspective than anyone other than her father. The time had come. She felt it to her toes.

      Both women, mother and daughter, were undergoing a huge change. Cora wanted to deepen her roots professionally and socially.

      Beto approached with his suave-ass smile that charmed oh so many men. He handed Cora a glass. “Vodka and soda with extra lime. Drink up, sweetheart.” He squeezed her shoulder. “You did well with her,” he murmured.

      That made Cora feel better. “I’m trying. Thanks for the drink.” Cora held it up in salute before she took a healthy gulp.

      “The place looks fantastic. You did a great job with everything. Even though most of it was over the phone or internet when you were gone, you still handled it. I do notice. So does Pai.”

      One of her goals was to be sure her father had faith in her leadership of the gallery. She’d needed to hear it.

      Beto tipped his chin to where their parents stood with Maybe and Rachel, who’d been keeping Walda busy so she couldn’t get back to messing with things. “Those Dolan girls are good friends.”

      “They really are. Okay. I need to get circulating. Be nice to Beau when he arrives.”

      Her brother’s eyes widened slightly. “Can’t wait. Not going to lie, Finley and I looked him up on the internet and saw all his modeling shots. He’s not hard to look at.”

      Cora nodded. “Not at all. Naked, he’s like one of those magical things you’re not supposed to look at directly or you get ensorcelled.”

      Beto laughed, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “We haven’t had much time to check in since you’ve been back. I can see you have a lot to say.”

      “I’ve been mulling. I think I might be ready to share. Let’s all have brunch soon. I want to talk to Finley about it too.”

      He nodded and she headed off to do her thing, mask firmly in place.

      * * *

      THOUGH HE’D PLANNED to play it far more cool and make his way to wherever Cora was in a casual, nonchalant cruise, Beau saw her the moment they walked into the gallery and there was nothing but his desire to get to her.

      A dress of midnight blue skimmed from midthigh up over her body in a caress that displayed the curves beneath. The neck was high and it had no sleeves. The combination worked, hinting and showing off equally well.

      With her hair pulled back he saw the lines of her face better, noted even in the lower lights the darker lip and the dramatic eyes. He liked it when she was in jeans and T-shirts, but this dressed-up version was hot.

      When he drew close, he listened to her speak about the artist of a series of pen-and-ink drawings she stood in front of.

      This wasn’t just the boss’s daughter. Cora clearly loved what she was doing, but also had a sound foundation on which to speak about art. She was intelligent and quick-witted. Intuitive.

      She was far more complicated than he’d given her credit for at first glance. Every time he saw her, he learned something new. Something more.

      After the people she’d been speaking to moved on, she looked up and their gazes locked with a sensual punch.

      He cupped her elbow as he leaned down to kiss her. He’d been intending on a cheek kiss but ended up with a brush of his mouth against hers.

      “Good evening,” he said, stepping back but not very far. “You look fantastic.”

      Her smile seemed to light her from within. “Thank you. So do you.”

      “Do you have time to give me a tour?” Beau indicated the gallery’s contents with a wave of his hand.

      “Of course.”

      She led him through the gallery, pausing here and there to show him something or answer his questions.

      All the while, her friends and her mother all watched them with undisguised curiosity.

      “You’re aware your friends and I assume more of your family are clearly waiting for you to introduce me to them,” he asked her when she paused in front of a hyperrealistic СКАЧАТЬ