Helena snorted. “Oh, I’m sure…”
“Seriously. You can tell me I’m wrong all you want. It won’t bother me in the least.”
Tele’s self-deprecating humor was his most appealing trait, and a smile tugged at her lips, despite herself.
“So, will you join me?” He tilted his head, hope shining in his green eyes.
Helena checked her watch, her heart skipping. “Don’t you have a meeting in five minutes?”
“What are they going to do? Fire me? Come on.” Tele stood and reached into his back pocket. “I’ll have you back at your hotel by sunset.” He pulled three, one-hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and slid them beneath his empty plate.
It wasn’t as though she had somewhere else to be. She’d already done what she’d been sent to Denver to do. Why would she deny herself more time with Tele when it was the only thing she wanted now? “You’ll have me back by sunset?” she asked, trying not to seem too eager. “Promise?”
“By sunset.” He offered her his hand as she rose from her seat, and she took it without hesitation. “No pumpkins for you, Stachtopouta.”
“Cinderella?” Helena laughed. “Didn’t she have until midnight?”
“Yes, but she also had the benefit of a fairy godmother. All you have, Ms. Christou, is me.”
Chapter Six
Helen of Troy
Tele watched the first light of day creep across the mountains through the windows as Helena slept soundly in his arms, her breathing slow and even as he combed his fingers through her hair. She fit against him perfectly, as though his body had been sculpted to cradle hers. For a moment, he let himself imagine waking up like this every morning.
But reality rushed in like an avalanche, crushing and burying his desires.
Reluctantly, Tele gently freed his hand from her hair and wiped it down his face, knots tightening in his stomach. He checked his watch. 6:38 a.m. Helena’s flight was in less than an hour. He knew the right thing to do was wake her, call one of his assistants to go to her hotel and collect her luggage, then rush her to the airport himself. But nothing he’d done in the last thirty-six-hours had been “the right thing to do”.
No, he would just cover the cost of rescheduling her flight or book her on a private jet if that was what she wanted. Hell, he’d drive her to Los Angeles himself. Anything to spend just one more hour with her in his arms.
He might never get this chance again once he tells Raph what happened between them last night.
And he had to tell him.
Tele’s chest rose and fell on a deep sigh as the events of yesterday came back at him full force.
They’d spent nearly three hours at the planned construction site––walking the grounds as he outlined his vision for the innovative project, and then sitting beside the adjoining river while she talked about her plans to create an online platform to bridge the gap between wealthy and novice collectors.
“The idea that beautiful artwork needs to be expensive is ridiculous,” she’d said. “There are so many talented artists whose work deserves to be seen. I want to make it easier for them.”
It was an unseasonably warm afternoon, and they’d found a sunny spot on the grassy riverbank beneath a large oak tree. Helena had sat with her legs stretched in front of her, crossed at the ankles, and absentmindedly arranged all of the acorns within reach into a little pile between them.
Tele had stretched out on his side facing her, one hand propping up his head while he fiddled with a fallen twig as he memorized her profile. “But won’t that put you out of a job?”
Helena had merely shrugged and tossed a rotten acorn into the slow-moving river. “Then I’ll find a new one.”
The ease with which she welcomed life’s challenges, her desire to grow and move with the changing tide, and not against it, was so refreshing that Tele had wanted to wrap his arms around her right then and there.
Once the sun had disappeared behind the mountains, taking its warmth with it, he’d driven them to one of his favorite cafes in Boulder for coffee and for what he swore were the world’s best cranberry-apple muffins. It was supposed to have been a quick stop before hopping on the Interstate back to Denver. But even though they’d ordered their lattes and muffins to-go, they’d lingered at Mountain Mama’s Café for almost two hours. Tucked into a quiet corner of the rustic café, they’d talked about all the places they still wanted to visit, and the adventures awaiting just beyond the horizon.
Yes, they shared a common grief, having each lost a parent, but more importantly, was their profound desire to live every moment to the fullest, knowing that any moment could be their last. They chose to honor their departed loved ones by truly embracing life and refusing to let the shadows of their pain dictate their future.
It was close to nine by the time they reached the Denver city limits. A six-vehicle pileup on the Boulder Turnpike in Broomfield had kept them in gridlock traffic for hours. But instead of worrying about the delay, Helena had connected her phone to Tele’s Range Rover’s audio system, and they’d belted out Brittany Spears and Marina Remos hits from the early two-thousands––off key, and without a care in the world.
As they’d neared her hotel, Tele had begun to feel relief that the day was nearly over. He was a moderate adrenaline seeker, who usually found his rush in Colorado’s beautiful, wild landscape, yet he’d had more fun walking and talking with Helena than he’d had in years. The thrill of being with her had satisfied his natural appetite for adventure in ways that nothing else did, but he knew he was inching dangerously close to a line he could not cross.
He would thank her for her company, tell her it was great catching up, deposit her in her hotel’s lobby, and wish her all the best in acquiring the Picasso her newest client was desperate to add to his collection.
