The Mix-Up (Southern Hearts Club #3) - Melanie Munton Page 0,100
faced trials in your relationship but come out the other side all the better for it? Have you had your ups and downs and been able to make it work? Tell me about it. I want to share your happiness with everyone out there who are still looking for theirs.
“Because let’s get real…that’s all any of us really want.”
“I’m impressed.”
I glance up from the drink menu to shoot Ryder an inquiring eye.
He grins. “I’ve been playing footsie under the table with you for the past ten minutes and you have yet to freak out.”
I set down the menu and interlace my fingers on the table. “Wait and see how long I let you hold my hand when we leave here. It’ll blow your mind. I’ve become quite mature since I became a girlfriend.” I punctuate the claim by raising my pinkie finger when I take a sip of wine.
He snorts into his beer glass. “Doubtful, duchess. Immaturity is part of your charm.”
“As long as you recognize.”
I see Myles appear near the hostess stand and wave him over. “Thank you for this, by the way,” I tell Ryder.
“Why would you thank me?” He sounds bewildered. “I should be thanking you for making me see everything the way I should have been seeing it all along.”
I give his hand a quick squeeze before standing to greet Myles with a kiss on the cheek. “We appreciate you coming.”
He chucks me under the chin, like a big brother would do. Strange how easily we’ve been able to fall into a comfortable in-law type of relationship, considering the fact that he kissed me a couple of months ago. “Hey, I’m not the kind of guy to turn down a free meal.”
“Beautiful, smart, and frugal with his money?” I quip. “Is it too early to propose?”
He grins. “Not if you’re comfortable with rejection.”
Ryder looks between us. “I’m not even going to ask.”
He and Myles shake hands. Their dynamic has certainly changed in the two weeks that Ryder and I have been official. Us getting together seemed to finally close the door on whatever sibling rivalry they had between them. They’re more comfortable around each other now, more brotherly. And if they’re ever competitive, it’s always in good fun.
“But I’m getting the feeling this isn’t just about the two of you taking me to dinner,” Myles says after we put in our food and drink orders.
Ryder pushes a manila folder across the table. Looking both curious and wary, Myles opens it and skims over the pages inside.
His eyes shoot up to us. “What is this?”
Ryder steeples his fingers in front of his face. “It’s a contract for artist representation.”
Myles looks stunned. Eventually, he shakes himself, as if clearing the cobwebs in his head. “I don’t get it.”
I take over for Ryder. “This agency firm is one of our clients. They recently hired us to create a marketing campaign for an educational packet they developed for beginning and aspiring artists. It covers drawing, painting, pottery, sculpting…all different kinds of mediums. But their primary service is representing local artists and featuring their work in galleries throughout the Lowcountry.”
Chadwick and Baldwin were all too happy to offer Myles a contract after Ryder and I took the liberty of sending them his portfolio.
“They said you have raw talent and an authentic style,” I add. “They want to work with you, Myles. All you have to do is sign the contract.”
His expression is the epitome of denial as he flips through more pages. Then his gaze tentatively meets Ryder’s. “I didn’t think you knew about my art.”
Ryder tips his head at me. “Gretchen here spilled the beans. She showed me the pictures you sent her. They’re good, Myles. Really good. And I’m sorry you never felt that you could share that part of your life with me. I’ve been a real asshole.”
I throw my hands up. “He said it, not me.”
Both men chuckle. Myles’s face even turns red with what I assume is embarrassment. Aw.
“Look, I seriously appreciate this,” he says, “but I don’t have a lot of time to work on my pieces. My hours at the factory are pretty demanding.”
“I’m sure that if you talk to Dad and tell him about this, he’ll have no problem knocking back your hours.” Ryder then slides a small piece of paper across the table. A check. “And hopefully soon, you’ll be able to make your art a full-time gig.”
Myles curses under his breath when he opens the check. He immediately shoves it back