Page 54 of Love Fast

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about it.” She glances at Rosey, then back at me. “But I don’t want to interrupt your date.”

“Oh, we’re not dating,” Rosey says before I get a chance to respond. “We’re neighbors.”

I shift my weight from one foot to the other, slightly uncomfortable. No, we’re not dating. But we did have sex last night. I’m not putting a ring on her finger, and I know she just got out of a serious relationship, and it’s not like I’m out here looking for love, but last night was… it shifted things between us, didn’t it?

My thoughts are running away from me. I just want a beer and a good time. Overthinking never ends well.

“Maybe I can come and see you up at the Club,” Juney says. “I don’t know if you know, but I do a bit of painting in my spare time. Some pottery, but mainly painting. I wondered if you wanted to see it.”

My heart sinks. My designer is in charge of sourcing all the artwork for the Club, and I know she’s not going to want me purchasing stuff she can’t use. Maybe I can buy a couple of pieces to put in staff housing or something. “That would be great.”

“You paint?” Rosey says. “I can’t draw a stick figure.”

“Oh, I bet that’s not true,” Juney says. “You probably just haven’t practiced very much. I’ve been doing it a long time now.” Her smile is warm and genuine. Rosey’s too.

“Have you?” I ask. “Was that always your thing? I can’t remember.”

Juney laughs. “Really? I was a mess in high school. You don’t remember I always had paint in my hair and under my fingernails?”

“It’s been a while,” I respond. I just remember Juney being quiet. It seemed like she was in a world of her own.

“You were too busy playing sportsball.”

I chuckle. “Yeah,sportsballwas a big thing back then.” I used to take out all my frustrations about everything out on whatever field I was playing on. Sportsball was what the kids that didn’t play sports called any sport that involved a ball.

Juney pulls out her phone from the back pocket of her jeans. “Do you have your phone? I’d love to share my digital business card.” She holds up her phone, which has a QR code on it. I scan it and hold up my phone so she can see that I have it. “I won’t take up any more of your time. Take a look at my work and if you think you might be interested, give me a call. I won’t hound you, I promise.”

“You can hound me. I have a lot going on, so I might forget?—”

“He won’t forget,” Rosey says. “I’ll make sure he remembers.”

My eyes widen in surprise. She’s going to be moving up to staff housing soon. How does she think she’s going to remind me if we’re not neighbors?

Juney makes her excuses and heads back to her table.

Rosey mutters under her breath, “This is perfect.”

“What’s perfect?” I take a swig of beer and turn to face her on the stool. No one’s taking any notice of us anyway.

“Local art.” She says it in a way that suggests I should know what she’s saying. “The Club can start supporting a local artist. You’re trying to make the town less hostile to the Club, right? This is another way you can encourage local support.”

“I can’t put up art that isn’t any good. If I refuse to support a local artist, that could have the opposite effect—people might start to hate me.”

Rosey holds out her hand. “Let’s have a look at her stuff.”

Our gazes lock, and for a second, I wonder why the hell I insisted on coming to Grizzly’s. I can’t do anything I want to do to her with all these eyes on us. Rosey breaks eye contact first and clicks on Juney’s website.

“Whoa,” Rosey says. “This isnotwhat I was expecting.”

I hadn’t really thought about what Juney’s art might look like. I guess I’m expecting intricate paintings of birds and bears and deer—local wildlife landscapes, that kind of thing. I get a sinking feeling. I should not have come to Grizzly’s tonight. I should go back to avoiding town and Star Falls residents in general. It just gets me into trouble. The last time I was here, I ended up with a neighbor. Now, I have to buy art I don’t want and can never display.

“I don’t necessarily understand it,” Rosey says. “I’m not an art person. But this looks… fresh. She’s had some exhibitions in Denver and Aspen.”

She pushes the phone into my hand and I take a look. There’s not a detailed wildlife painting in sight. Instead, there are huge abstract canvasses. I glance at Rosey, whose gaze is fixed on my phone. Her lips are mere inches from mine, and I can’t do a damn thing about it.

“I think some of these would look amazing in the chalets. In the main building as well, though I’m not sure you have room for them.”

“I’ll send the site to Rosalind and see what she thinks.”

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