Page 11 of Family: Posy 4

"No, baby," I hurried to tell her. "Theyarecute, and you can wear them anywhere, anytime. I'm teasing you because you look adorable in them."

"Okay," she agreed in her calm, peaceful way. "What sort of secrets are you revealing?"

I wasn't ready to answer that yet, wasn't sure I had the courage to even go through with what I'd planned, so I gave her a lame answer.

"You'll have to wait and see, Ms. Curiosity." I took my eyes off the road long enough to wink at her. "Now, what did you buy?"

She spent the rest of the drive telling me about her fabulous finds. After I guessed the secret behind her purchases for her special room, she gave me a round of applause and I smiled.

"What is this place, Wyatt?" she asked as I pulled into the parking lot of the art museum. "It looks old and expensive."

"Come inside and see," I told her as I opened her door and held out my hand.

She took it and climbed out of the Jag, and we walked hand-in-hand to the front entrance. Her eyes found the golden letters that announced this was the city's art museum.

"Really?" Her eyes grew wide as she smiled up at me. "Is any ofyourart in here?"

"Hahaha! No, baby. Only famous artists have their work in museums." I laughed again at the idea.

Ididhave a few pieces in a nearby gallery, where we were going next, and Granite and I had a bet on whether or not she'd recognize the paintings as mine. He said she would and I said she wouldn't. I usually wouldn't bet against our girl, but she'd never seen any of my paintings, only my sketches, and I figured she'd be too distracted by everything to notice my signature.

"Well, they could be," she retorted, sounding upset that I wasn't represented in a museum. "You're so good! Have you tried to be a famous artist?"

"No, cutie." I rolled my eyes as I held open the door for her. "I have enough on my plate with being alpha. I don't think I could juggle being famous in the human world, too."

"Hmpf. Well, youcould," she insisted with a little frown as she went inside. "What do you do with all your artwork? I know you must have more than those sketchbooks."

Following her, I raised my eyebrows, surprised she'd guessed that much.

Never bet against mate, Gran sang out with a smug smile.

Hush, wolf.

"I give some away as gifts," I admitted.

"Do you sell the rest? And where do you keep it? I haven't seen any around the house. And where do you create it? Do you paint? Do you sculpture?"

"It'ssculptas a verb.Sculptureis the noun. No, I don't sculpt, and the rest of your questions will be answered later."

I led her to the welcome desk, paid for our tickets, and escorted her into the first viewing gallery. I wasn't surprised that her romantic little soul liked impressionist art the best. She liked the only pointillist piece there, saying it reminded her of those photo-mosaic puzzles that her mother used to put together. Neither of us were into cubism, or any abstract art really, but she giggled her way through the surrealism gallery. The museum wasn't wealthy or famous enough to have a Salvador Dali or MC Escher or anything like that, but Posy liked a couple of paintings, including one that showed an egg cracked open to reveal the sun and another of a woman in a fancy gown being lifted into the air by harnessed butterflies.

"They're not what I'd want hanging in my house, but they're fun and interesting to look at," she said, and I agreed. "These aren't for sale, right?"

"Right. If you want to buy art, there are a couple of galleries in the city. Want to check one of them out?"

"Sure!" she chirped.

Bwahahaha!Gran rubbed his grubby paws together in anticipation.I 'bout to win a bet, Wy!

We'll see, wolf. We'll see.

#

On our drive to the gallery, I noticed Posy was suddenly restless in her seat and twisting her fingers around like she did whenever she was nervous.

"Hey." I reached over and laid my hand on her thigh. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, but can I ask you something? You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

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