Carried Away - P. Dangelico Page 0,39

right.

This requires my immediate attention. I glance over, and find him staring back at me. “Come again?”

Because I know I’m still tipsy and couldn’t have heard him correctly.

“Chemistry. You know, that thing between us.”

I scratch my temple. Maybe I’m drunker than I realize. “Chemistry?”

“Yeah.”

I’m confused. “You think we have chemistry?”

Dead serious, he nods. What do I do? I look around. This can’t be real. I look over his head. In the opposite direction. Either I’m in a fever dream or someone is punking me.

“Stop messing around. And where the hell is Gene?”

“Busy…” Turner’s gaze falls to my lips. “Tell me you don’t feel it.”

Wtf?

My pulse jumps. “We don’t have chemistry.” I can’t look at him as I say it though. I can’t keep the truth out of my eyes. I can’t do it drunk or sober. He’s got me completely boxed in.

Down the bar, Regina is directing her staff. She probably found our constant bickering boring. I can’t blame her.

Dark sapphire eyes hold mine for what feels like forever. So does the slow progress of heat marching up my neck. It’s not chemistry. It’s a sickness, this attraction.

“Anymore chemistry and we’d burn down the house if we ever slept together.”

Instantly, I picture him naked, and my cheeks burn red hot.

He leans in. “You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you…”

What has gotten into him?

“No. And the Lake Placid Fire Department can tuck in because it’s never gonna happen.”

Silence follows. So does a staring contest as per our usual routine. One...two...three beats later...

“We’ll see.” Sliding off the stool, he motions to the door. “Come on. It’s late and it looks like your friend needs to close up.”

I say goodbye to Gina spending a good ten minutes of that time insisting I pay for the drinks and her insisting she won’t let me. Then I follow Turner to the Expedition parked outside. He opens the door for me, and I slide in. Before he shuts it, however, he hangs on for a while.

“Second-best, huh?” There’s a spark in his eyes tonight I haven’t seen before. It makes him ten times more attractive. This is bad news for me.

“Hard to believe you’re even on the list at all––I know. Then again, I haven’t gotten out much lately.”

He shuts the door and the dark chuckle tails him to the driver’s side. He gets in and starts the engine. In the quiet of the dark cab, the smell of fresh oil paint and turpentine hits me. It reminds me of the farmhouse. It seems like an eternity ago instead of two month.

Glancing at the back seat, I spot three canvases covered in cheese cloth.

“When did you learn how to paint? I mean, I know you’re a pretty good hockey player, but you’re an amazing artist.”

The booze is hitting me hard, my eyelids getting heavy, my lips loose. Add to it the cozy comfort of the SUV, and the familiar scent of the man seated next to me and I’m super relaxed. For the first time since we’ve met we are on a level playing field. “I mean it, Turner. Your paintings are…they take my breath away.”

Every time I pass by the ones hanging in the main house I have to stop and stare. There’s something about them that feeds the soul, soothes it in the same way a great piece of music does. It’s more than skill. It’s the emotion he pours into them. And if Jake Turner does everything else with as much passion and attention, I shudder to think.

Smoothly, he pulls the Expedition onto the mostly deserted road and drives up the hill that leads to the Cottages.

He clears his throat, and I glance over. One hand is on the steering wheel, the other strokes his chin. “My therapist. She wanted me to journal or something––after the accident.”

I twist in my seat to watch him, to see if there’s an actual crack in the ice, but he’s stoic as always.

“I used to draw when I was a kid…One thing led to another. I taught myself how to use oils…”

He shrugs, a tight sheepish smile shaping his lips. Warmth spreads in my chest. It’s really kind of pathetic how high I feel simply because he chose to share this piece of himself with me.

“You’re incredibly talented.”

The veins in his neck pop. His chest rises and falls. His body reacting while his mouth stays still. He doesn’t know what to do with the compliment.

“It’s okay, Turner. Don’t worry. I won’t think highly of you if that’s