her life. If Shay wanted to master something, she went after it with a vengeance. Gardening, raising chickens, fixing heavy machinery. If she didn’t know how to do it, she learned. If she was bad at it, she practiced. But no matter how many games of Yahtzee we played, she never got any better.
“You’re pretty adorable when you pout.”
Her head snapped up. “I’m not pouting.”
I swallowed my laugh. “Sure, you aren’t.”
She collapsed back against the cushioned seat. “All right. Maybe I’m pouting a little. I don’t understand if I have the world’s worst luck, or if I’m just horrible at mentally calculating odds.”
My brows rose. “Are you trying to dice count?”
“I’m pretty sure that only works with cards.”
“Remind me never to take you to Vegas.”
Her nose scrunched up in adorable disgust. “No, thank you.”
“Not a fan of Sin City?”
She shook her head. “I went once when I was a kid. Too many people. Too much cigarette smoke.”
“There’s pretty good food, though.”
“I can make good food from the privacy of my own home.”
Shay had managed to do just about everything from this island. But as I studied her in the dim light of the kitchen, wisps of hair falling free and framing her heart-shaped face, I couldn’t help but wonder about everything she was missing out on. To truly experience life, you had to live it in community. It was something I needed to remind myself. “We should go out this weekend.”
Her head snapped up. “Go out…”
“Yeah, you know. Get dinner, maybe hit up The Catch. Hunter told me they have live music on Saturdays and Sundays now.”
Shay’s mouth worked as if she were struggling to form the words she wanted. “I don’t know if it’s such a good idea.”
I reached out and squeezed her hand. “I’ll be with you. And I honestly think the more normally you live your life, the less people will ask questions. And you’re the master of vague answers if they do pry.”
Her lips curved, drawing my attention. My gut tightened. We were close. Just a few feet away. I could lean over and close that distance, sink into that gorgeous mouth, lose myself. Shay cleared her throat. “I’ll think about it. That good enough?”
I shook myself out of the stupor she had me in. “It’s a start.” And I wouldn’t stop asking.
With one last flick of the wrist, it was done. I stepped back from the canvas, surveying the image in front of me. Closer. Not quite there yet but closer to the image in my mind. It was another of Shay. This one was of her on the beach. The waves were crashing in around her, trying to take her out to sea, but her arms were outstretched, creating a sort of forcefield that kept the water from stealing her away. It was her power and strength and sheer force of will. But there was darkness, too. Swirling around her. Doubts. Fears. The ugly voices that I got a sense had a pretty powerful hold on the woman I’d become fascinated with.
I studied the curves and the sharp edges. The battle taking place in the image. It was the best thing I’d painted in months. Progress. I still ended up with a few destroyed canvases each week, but I was finishing more projects, too. And they seemed to be morphing into something a little different than my past work. I couldn’t put my finger on how exactly, but I liked the direction things were moving.
I peeled off my gloves and tossed them in the trash, then set my mask down. Just as I was about to head for the kitchen for a snack, an incoming call sounded from my laptop. I strode to my desk and hit accept. Carson’s face filled the screen. “You bastard.”
He’d said it smiling, but my brows still pulled together. “Right back at you.”
“You’ve been holding back on me.”
“What are you talking about?”
Carson moved around his studio space as we talked, large sculptures appearing and disappearing in the background as he went. “You said you were struggling. Barely finishing anything.”
“I was. I mean, things are a bit better now. I’m finally getting in a groove—”
“I saw that piece Lara’s putting up for auction this weekend. I’d say you’ve more than found your groove. You’re moving into a whole new era of work. It’s different from your other stuff. More alive somehow.”
“The landscape is more alive?” That series was decent, but it wasn’t anything to write home about. They were nice