Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Her pencil stops. “I don’t want to go.”
“Really?” I find that hard to believe. She loves to draw and paint. Every time I see her, she’s got a pencil in her hand and her sketchbook out. And she’s so good. It seems like a crime that she’d rather learn how to handle bookkeeping and run The Sugar Factory for another generation.
“No. There’s no money in it. Most artists don’t make any money off their art and end up having to do art that kills their spirit or mooching off some poor family member. I would not ask my grandparents to support me while I try to sell watercolors of flowers.”
“What if you didn’t have to make money? What if you had a partner that made enough for both of you, and you could draw or paint or do whatever for fun?”
“Like you?” She glances down at me.
“Yeah, like me. Agents make a shit ton of money—even more than my dad makes. We won’t have to worry about where our next meal is coming from.” I roll over on my back and tuck my hands under my head. It’s all worked out in my head. Carrie has a big room with lots of light, filled with paint canvases and easels and a mountain of supplies. We make out on the velvet sofa she uses for portrait sittings and then eat dinner on the fur rug in front of the fireplace. After easing the one hunger, we attack each other again. The rug will have to be washable since I plan on using a lot of toppings while I fuck her. I’m going to dress her up like the most expensive sundae, complete with honey, chocolate, candies, some whipped cream. The list is endless.
“I can’t leave The Sugar Factory. My grandfather built that business up from nothing. Who else is going to run it but me?” She shrugs and pops a caramel into her mouth. “This is really good. We should sell these at the factory.”
I chew on mine slowly, tumbling Carrie’s words in my head. She loves art but she can’t pursue her dreams because she’s tethered here by her love for her grandparents. I want to give her everything in the world, but this one thing seems out of my reach.
Chapter Ten
Carrie
I savor the piece of candy, trying not to let what Booker is saying get to me. At least the part about our future. We only just opened the door for the possibility of us being more than friends. I don’t even think I’ve fully comprehended it yet.
His talk of wanting to take care of me is beyond sweet, but it’s also not something I can have. Not only because of The Sugar Factory. But the fact that we are so young.
I’m always going to live in this small town. Booker is meant for the big city and fast life. He’s going to end up rich, and he’s already freaking hot. His life will be so different from mine. Even if we weren’t working out he wouldn’t call things off because Booker is always the good guy at the end of the day. If he promised to take care of me, he would never let himself back out of that. I can’t let him make that promise to me knowing what the future holds for me. I don’t want to hold him back or for him to resent me later on in life. He has his own dreams to follow.
He never takes his eyes off my sketch pad as I keep drawing. His hand slips up the back of my shirt, his fingers caressing me back and forth. Goosebumps break out across my skin, and my body heats more with each stroke.
“What’s this art showcase thing you said you have coming up?”
“It’s nothing big.” I shrug. Okay, it might be a big deal, but I don’t want to psych myself out. “There is an art showing in the city. I entered on a whim for the one junior artist spot that was open, and I got it. I have to bring five pieces to display in my area.”
“Of course you got it.” I try not to blush at his praise, but one can’t stop a blush. He’s always had so much faith in my art. And he’s always so supportive of me. “Do you already have all the pieces completed that you plan to show? Or are you still working on them?”
“I need one more, I think.”
“We should make a trip of it. Go up the night before and get a room.”
“Get a room?”
“Yeah, so you’re not rushed. I could take you to dinner the night before and celebrate. This is something to celebrate, Care-bear.” I worry my bottom lip between my teeth. “Come on. You’re my girl now. I can take you out to dinner.” He pushes, making it hard to say no.