Page 29 of Beautiful Exile

“Not as good as you.”

Linc shrugged, the towel shifting with the movement and revealing a bit more of the tan skin below. “I’ve been training for a long time. Been lucky to work with some pretty incredible teachers.”

“Those billions come in handy sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” he echoed, his gaze moving to mine. “How do you deal with your demons?”

My heart hammered against my ribs. “My art. It’s always how I’ve gotten out what I need to.”

“And it’s why you don’t do commissions,” he surmised.

I nodded. “It’s always been such a personal process. The medium, the vision, all of it. I put a piece of my soul into every single creation. I can’t control that. I wouldn’t want to.”

Linc stared at me for a moment, not speaking. “It needs to be wild, just like you.”

Those words hit. Every single one. But they managed to be a caress, too. A balm. “Yes,” I whispered.

“Well, they’re incredible. After Cope showed me a picture of one of the pieces in his house, I’m pretty sure I scoured the internet for every piece I could find. There was a fair amount about your work but not so much about the creator behind it.”

My ribs constricted, making it hard to breathe.

“Kind of surprising, given some of the exhibits you’ve had.”

“I don’t like the spotlight,” I croaked, trying to keep my breaths even and measured.

“Fair enough.”

Linc’s eyes were on me again. But this time, panic took hold. I’d taken a risk sitting here with him. Answering questions I shouldn’t have. Letting him peek behind the curtain.

I stood quickly, gathering up my sandwich. “I need to go.”

I was already moving as Linc called my name, slipping my feet into flip-flops and making a beeline for my guesthouse, whistling for Brutus as I went. I heard Linc call for me again, but it was too late in so many ways.

I was already gone. And it was better that way.

10

LINCOLN

The urge torun after her was strong. So damn strong it took everything I had to keep myself in place, feet in the freezing water, sandwich on my lap. Arden had left her drink behind. That would be the perfect excuse. I could bring it to her guesthouse or studio.

But I knew she wouldn’t welcome me there. I mulled over the events of the past twenty minutes. What had sent her running?

I played back snippets of our conversation. We’d been talking about her art when she stiffened, her spine going ramrod straight. I frowned at that. Maybe it was simply because she’d shared a little of what happened behind the curtain, what inspired her art.

The conversation and Arden’s reaction swirled round and round in my brain, and then everything stilled. I’d said I had looked up everything I could find about her.

I was moving before I’d even consciously given my body the order. I wrapped up my sandwich and grabbed both drinks. I wanted to go straight to Cope’s office, the one he’d let me take over for theduration of my stay, but I knew he wouldn’t be pleased with me if I ruined his desk chair with wet swim trunks.

No longer hungry, I ditched the food in the kitchen and went straight for my room. I made quick work of grabbing a shower and changing into some joggers and a tee, then headed right for the office.

My fingers itched to be at the keyboard, figuring out what the hell had Arden so damn spooked. I slid behind the desk and flipped open my laptop. I ignored the staggering number of emails in my inbox and opened a search engine.

I typed in her name.Arden Waverly.

It was interesting to me that some of Cope’s siblings had taken the Colson last name, and others hadn’t. I was sure that was a complicated thing to contend with—whether or not to change a fundamental part of yourself.

It fit that Arden hadn’t. She seemed to set herself apart from her siblings. From everyone, really.

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