The Finished Masterpiece Boxed Set - Pepper Winters Page 0,11

the canvas, not fabric.

He backed away as I went to him, his eyes skating over me. “That’s why you’re late. I wanted to start work at nine.”

I didn’t let his coldness hurt me. The rush of what’d happened between us last night gave me courage. I’d learned how to cope after he’d abandoned me when we were younger. It’d been a lesson I didn’t want to learn—the hardest lesson—but I’d mastered it regardless. The strength it took to survive his indifferent, uncaring face was built brick by brick.

That skill turned steely in its determination not to let him push me away a second time.

I arched my chin. “Well, you should’ve asked me to arrive earlier so we had time to prep.”

He bristled as I shrugged off my bag and placed it on his table of tricks before slipping off my jacket. The warehouse wasn’t exactly chilly, but it wasn’t warm either. The advert had been honest about not being affected by the cold being a requirement.

He swallowed hard, jerking his gaze from my chest. “I suggest you don’t answer back to your boss, especially seeing as you’ve been employed for less than two minutes.”

“Yes, about that.” I ran my fingers over the tops of rainbow paint bottles, pleased that he seemed affected by me. “Do you need me to sign a contract?”

“No.” He turned to an air gun, fiddling with dials and checking narrow hoses. His jeans looked like he’d already been painting with splotches and splashes of colour. His grey T-shirt had the same graffiti appearance—obviously his uniform when working.

“What about payment?” I asked as bravely as I dared.

“You’ll get cash at the end.”

“But what about taxes?”

“What about them?”

“Um, death and taxes? The two terrors you can always rely on.”

“You’re saying you’re flush with coin and happy to give some away?”

I shook my head. “I’m saying, I have no choice.”

Just like I have no choice how I feel about you.

He gave me a weighty look. A look that spoke of history and hardships but remained professional and distant. “Cash in hand. That’s the deal.”

“Ah, so it’s you who doesn’t want to pay taxes.” I smiled, doing my best to earn a reaction.

He scowled. “I pay my way.” A flicker of regret before he clipped callously, “But you’re temporary, and I can’t be assed with the paperwork.”

Ouch.

It seemed he was better at this game than me.

My energy deflated, accepting today wasn’t going to be easy.

It’s probably going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

I nodded. “Cash works.”

“Course cash works.” He dropped his voice like he used to while discussing his shitty living situation when he was a kid. “Least cash will pay your rent.”

My heart hiccupped.

He was a master at making me want to hate him, but beneath that stony façade was a gentle, giving soul.

I know it.

I know he can’t have changed so much.

I didn’t know if my prior history with Gil was a blessing or a curse. If we’d been complete strangers, I would’ve chalked his attitude up to being a surly boss with temper issues. But because he’d shared his secrets with me, because he’d trusted me over anyone, because he’d let me see him vulnerable and sweet, I knew homelessness was a very real threat to the younger Gil and most likely tainted the older one’s outlook as well.

He might be a famous body painter, but apart from the tools of his trade, he had no luxury within his warehouse. No expensive art or designer furniture. The space was barren and untended.

Yet another by-product of living in a condemned building with a father into illegal practices? Or a personal choice by staying sterile and alone?

My shoulders rounded, weighed down by questions I couldn’t ask.

He sighed heavily.

I caught his eye and suffered a racing heart.

His lips twisted in the smallest of smiles. A smile I barely caught before it was smothered beneath grim frostbite.

Could he read me as well as he could read me in our youth? Could he see my struggle not to demand answers and the very real threat of launching myself into his arms and kissing him?

If he could read me, he didn’t show it.

And I definitely couldn’t read him anymore.

He sighed again as if he second-guessed everything about us.

Us.

Could there still be...us?

“Come. I’ll show you where the bathroom is. I need to work.”

I crossed my arms over my pink top and followed him. His long legs chewed up the distance far quicker than my shorter ones.

His back rippled beneath the paint-splattered grey