Page 66 of Wild Tangled Hearts

Mitchell keeps chatting, telling me about his glamorous California life and the latest fashion trends. I try to listen, but he’s planted a seed of doubt, and my brain has latched onto it like a stubborn vine that threatens to choke my trust.

Maybe some of the things Mitchell said are true. But I’ve already gone down the wrong path of misunderstanding and accusations with Damien.

Still, a warning shiver races down my spine as I go home. Doubts and questions swirl in my mind, a quiet storm of uncertainty, reminding me that my choice regarding Damien could have far-reaching consequences for my heart and future.

Reader’s Choice:

What should Bella do next?

Ignore Mitchell’s warning and agree to meetDamien’sMom and niece. Turn to this page.

Take Mitchell’s warning seriously and break things off with Damien for good. Wait a few weeks and go on a date withAlex.Turn to this page. If you’ve already had a first date with him, you can have asecond dateby Turning to this page.

Chapter30

Alex

BRUSHSTROKES AND KISSES

“You’re sure you want to do this?” I ask as I spread out a canvas, easel, and acrylic paints on the dining table.

Alex chuckles. He leans down, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to my lips, sending a delightful shiver down my spine. When he pulls back, he cradles my face in his hand, those hazel eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my knees go weak.

"I'm up for the challenge," Alex says, his voice soft and filled with affection. "But I should warn you, my artistic skills are...well, nonexistent. Kind of like that guy who got famous for painting blocks of color."

I can't help but burst into laughter at his comparison. "Piet Mondrian?" I ask, still chuckling.

"Yeah, that guy."

"He's one of the greatest artists of the twentieth century," I say, trying to defend the renowned painter.

Alex grunts and raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying into the idea that his artistic talents aren’t on par with the minimalist master.

I laugh, feeling a warmth in my chest that has nothing to do with the easel or the paints. "Alright, Picasso, let's see what you've got."

As he dips his brush into a vibrant blue, I can't help but admire his determination. His strokes start off hesitantly, but with each passing moment, he grows bolder. We exchange playful banter, using the brushes as our weapons of choice in a colorful duel, all while trying to create something resembling art.

My gaze keeps drifting to him, my chest aching with something I’ve never felt before. It’s like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, unsure of what lies beyond but fully aware that the view is breathtaking.

It's a beautiful and somewhat terrifying sensation.

I'm falling for Alex.

He’s made it impossible not to.

There's a vulnerability that comes with opening your heart to someone, and it scares me, but it also feels incredibly right.

Alex, his face smudged with paint, suddenly glances my way and gives me a dimpled smile when he catches me watching him. "Having fun?"

I nod, not trusting my voice. Emotions squeeze my throat, and I swear my heart might explode if I fall any more for him. But in true Alex fashion, he lightens the mood by tapping me gently on the nose with his paintbrush.

My eyes widen in mock indignation. "You did not just do that?"

He grins mischievously, the smudge of blue on his cheek making him look utterly endearing. "Oh, but I did. Consider it a brushstroke of affection."

I playfully roll my eyes, and then, without warning, I dip my fingers in some paint and daub a bright spot of color on his nose. "There, now we're even."

We both burst into laughter, our playful antics turning our painting session into a delightful mess of colors, laughter, and affection.

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