Too much drama for what it was all worth.

I started to work, letting myself get lost in thought. I wanted her to see the other side of me. The one that hated one-night stands and wanted a different future. I knew that my actions and all the shitty decisions I'd made left me looking like a has-been, but I wasn't. I just needed a fresh perspective, a new start, and a good woman could give me that.

I glanced over my shoulder and noticed the curtains moving back into place. Someone had been watching me. Maybe it was her, but maybe not. All I could do was hope that if it was, she'd feel bad for me and come out with something warm to drink.

If she was the woman I figured her to be, she would.

If not...I probably deserved it.

Chapter 11

Chloe

I slept horribly the night before, but by the time the sun came up, I'd come to the conclusion that I was being ridiculous. I was judging Finn based on a life that I knew nothing about. The fact that Brian had been so open let me into the reasons why Finn was like he was, but the fact still remained that it was irrelevant. He wasn't my problem and I was soon to be headed home.

Funny how that resolution faded as my phone buzzed and I scrambled to get it, thinking that somehow he'd gotten my number.

Cindy: Just wanted to let you know I'm on a flight back home. Last night was wicked fun. Thanks for the hookup. Hope we can do it again soon. Love ya!

Me: Anytime. Be safe. Love you too.

I tossed the phone toward the other end of the bed and picked up my pillow, groaning into it loudly. Why did this matter? I had a million other things to worry about beside some local playboy who wasn't even going to be a memory in a month. My father was breathing down my neck to talk about my designs and I had a few, but nothing really worth showing him yet. My main sketch pad was missing and something told me that I had left it in the top of the closet back in the dorm room. I checked with Jessie, but she hadn't gotten back to me to verify if my worries were valid.

"Chloe?" My father's voice sounded outside my door as he knocked softly.

"I'm up." I tugged the covers up to my chin and looked up as he stuck his head in the room.

"I'm going to whip up some pancakes. Let's talk about your designs this morning, okay?"

"Yeah. Alright." I rolled over and curled up. "Can you put chocolate chips in mine?"

"And pecans?"

"Yeah. Like momma used to do." I closed my eyes. Nothing was working out, and of course this was the very moment my father would choose to be nice. It was going to be short lived seeing that he was far more interested in his money than me, but it was too much even for the short stint that it would last.

"Of course. Hurry up. I have a lunch date." He closed the door and I rolled out of the bed, hitting the floor in a crouch.

A lunch date. Sex with a chick at lunch on a Sunday? He was going straight to hell.

I chuckled at the audacity of my thoughts and got up, changing into a long cream-colored sweater and a pair of black tights. After tying my hair in a messy bun, I walked down the hall and made a beeline for the coffee pot.

"I'm not sure you're going to want to talk without me having my large sketch pad. It's got my main dress and shirt designs in it." I poured the cup and turned to look up at him.

"Are you okay? Your eyes are puffy. Were you crying last night?" Concern swept across his face, but it left as quickly as it appeared.

"No. Went out drinking." I moved to the table and sat down, focusing only on the warmth my coffee provided. "Where's Parker?"

"He has a gamer day on Sunday's with some of the boys from school. I drop him off at eight and he comes home around six. It's good for him to get out of the house." My father looked up from his cooking and seemed to be analyzing me.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just noticing how much you look like a woman. Like your mother."

I nodded. "I'm twenty-four, Dad. I grew up while you weren't looking."

His jaw clenched and I realized how my words sounded.

"I didn't mean it like that." I stood up and he lifted his hand.

"It's fine. Get your work and let's talk." He pursed his lips and I knew the conversation was over.

I walked to the room with my head hung down, pissed at myself for starting off the morning with him on a bad note. I needed him in a good mood for the discussion we had coming up and he was going to be anything but.

The sketch pad was open on a small circular table beside the bed. I'd been working on something in the wee hours of the morning when I couldn't stop thinking about Finn. I snatched it up and walked back to the kitchen with trepidation rolling over me in great waves.

"I really don't feel good about this." I sat down and opened the pad.

"Well, I'm your investor. Rule number one is that you should never tell me that. You put on your game face and sell your designs like I would die without them."

I smiled and shook my head. "No one's going to die here."

"Right, but the feeling should be the same, Chloe. No one wants to invest in an artist who sort of thinks her stuff would be good. We want to jump in the boat with someone that reminds us that we're about to miss out on the next great thing." His voice was full of life and his expressions reminded me of the man he used to be.

"Let me ask you this..." I closed the book and pulled my mug closer to me, using it to warm my hands, "why did you choose winter attire? It seems so stuffy and uncreative."

"For that exact reason. I love it up here in the cold and yet, just like you, I can only stand to be outside for a few minutes. My 'why' for creating my line of men and women's ski and snowboard attire was for necessity. Is it the most beautiful design in the world? No, but it's fully functional and will keep you warm in an arctic freeze. Is it attractive? Yes."

I realized that I had been going about my plan all wrong. It wasn't about designing something that I would wear because it was cute, but coming up with something functional and making it cute.

"Brilliant." I glanced down at my coffee and smiled. "Dad. That's brilliant."

"Right? It's why you had your school paid in full. There's money in that way of thinking." He moved toward me and laid a plate of pancakes in front of me. "I know I'm hard on you, but there's a reason for it."

I wanted to push a little, but I decided to let it alone.

He sat down beside me and started to eat. "Show me what you have."

Opening my binder, I pushed it across the table.

"It's a line of t-shirts that I think would be great sellers on college campuses." I flipped through them slowly, watching his expression remain unchanged.

He glanced up. "Who are you selling these to?"

"College kids. I just said that."

He shook his head and cut into his pancakes. "Did you not take any business classes at UCLA, Chloe? College kids don't have money."

There was a sick sense of relief that flooded me to see that my father was slipping back into his normal self. If I didn't feel stupid before coming to sit before him, I did now.

"Some do. Most of us have allowances, Dad."

"I'm aware of that, but you're limiting yourself. A small percentage of the population are college kids." He pushed the notebook back at me. "I want you to think about designing something for people in colder climates."

"What? Why? I hate the cold. I'd much rather design something for the beach. If I had my other notebook, I could..."