Her Blind Date Cowboy - Taylor Hart Page 0,9

she ended up telling Trey she wouldn’t marry him, and it caused problems.”

Liam’s heart beat faster, and he found warmth in a ray of hope. “Do you think?”

Jaycee laughed. “Hey, if any girl knows about fathers and the way they try to manipulate, it’s me.”

Liam thought about all the craziness that Jaycee had been through. “True.” He sighed. “Maybe I should ask her to be my tour guide.”

“What?”

“I was her tour guide when she came to Rutherford, and I need a tour guide now, and she needs money.” He explained about the university.

“Do it!” Shay laughed.

“Plus, you get to help her have her dream,” Jaycee said, sounding wistful.

Liam knew they were right. He wanted to get moving. “Thanks, guys. I’ll be in touch.”

“Wait!” his brother shouted. “How are you going to find her?”

With a laugh, Liam said, “I’m going to the art gallery she works at.”

Chapter 6

It’d been slow since Evie had gotten to the gallery around four. There had been some new inventory, so she’d spent most of her time in the back uncrating huge boxes of artwork. Working in the gallery was still a great experience, as she loved her boss and the fact that she got to be around some of the best art in the world. The gallery sold a lot of art, and this job had been the only thing to keep her afloat after she’d fallen out with her father. The owner, Joe Temple, had allowed her to start working commission and get a percentage of everything she sold. And it turned out she was good at selling it. She just had to take it up a notch to get the money for tuition.

Evie pulled out the fine painting and propped it against the wall just as she heard the sound of the familiar front door ding. She left the cardboard and wood on the floor, thinking she’d be back in a sec and clean it up after she greeted the customer. After all, to sell, you had to charm the customer. That was selling one-on-one, according to Mr. Temple—treat the customers like you would treat family.

Mr. Temple was actually the one who’d walked in. When he saw her, his face lit up. “Evie, how are you? Are you unpacking the new stuff?”

She smiled at him. “Yes, I am. And it’s beautiful. I think it’s going to sell really well.”

He headed to the back, and she followed him, stewing in anticipation. He paused and stared at the painting she’d propped up. “Ah, gorgeous.” He mumbled something in Italian. His family had immigrated from Italy when he was in his teens, and he still fell back to the language when he wanted to express appreciation for art.

Together, they unpacked the rest of the pieces.

Mr. Temple turned to her. “I took a chance on this new artist, and I’m glad I did. I saw him in the Paris art show last year, and he’s going to make a big splash for himself.”

They stood in front of the paintings and surveyed them together.

“Yes, he will do just fine.” Mr. Temple traced the lines. “I like the clean lines, but I always love the way he incorporates light into the structures and the faces.”

Light had always fascinated Evie; it could make or break a picture. Once her father had refused to pay for any art school after everything with Trey had gone sideways, she’d had to rely on self-education for her art. But she didn’t regret it. She learned a lot from working with Mr. Temple.

Mr. Temple had been the new owner of the art gallery after she’d come back from AVI. When things hadn’t worked out with Liam or … anything, she’d asked him for a job; working at the gallery had saved her from becoming homeless.

Mr. Temple put an arm around her shoulders. He smelled of sweat and pipe smoke and mint candies; he was rolling a candy in his mouth right now. His wife hated the pipe smoke, so he used the mints to cover it. “Listen, Evie. I know you’ve been working on your portfolio, but I wanted to talk to you about displaying your paintings next week. For Christmas week.”

She felt sucker punched. “What?”

“Have confidence and sell your own work.” He winked at her. “I’ll let you keep all the profits on them.”

“No.” Especially after seeing Liam hours ago, there was no way she could display her art.

“But they’re good.”

“No,” she said, standing firm on this decision. “They’re … not ready.” She knew