Page 49 of Beautiful Exile

I winced. “I’m sorry. The day got away from me.”

Denver scoffed. “Looks like you were just fine shacking up with moneybags here. But you don’t have two seconds to get back to your friends?”

“Watch your tone,” Linc ground out.

“I’m not talking to you,” Denver snapped.

“Maybe not, but you’llonlybe talking to me if you don’t watch what you say.”

Denver puffed up his chest like a gorilla about to charge. “What? You’ve been here for like two-point-five seconds and get to dictate who she talks to?”

Linc moved forward in two long strides, forcing Denver back onto the front steps. “It’s not aboutdictatinganything. It’s the fact that I’m not going to letanyonespeak disrespectfully to Arden in my presence…ever. So, try again.”

Normally, I found it oppressive when someone stepped in like this. It reminded me too much of my family’s overprotectiveness. But something about Linc in this moment felt anythingbutoppressive. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I could breathe. Like I was safe. It was the same as when he wrapped his arms around me.

Denver glanced nervously between Linc and me, then sighed, running a hand through his long hair and getting his fingers stuck in the feathers. “Sorry, A. I was just worried.”

I stepped out onto the front patio. “I’m sorry, too. I was painting all afternoon and night. Then I crashed.”

That had interest lighting in Den’s eyes. “You finish it?”

One corner of my mouth kicked up. All was forgotten if new art had been created. “I did. It’ll take a couple of weeks to fully dry, but?—”

“It can cure at The Collective. We can still hang it for the show.”

A pang lit in my sternum. I wasn’t sure I was ready to give this one away. Something about it was just a little too personal. Or maybe it was that I still needed the message that lay within the layers of paint. “I don’t know?—”

“Come on, A. We need as many pieces as possible for the auction.”

Linc’s jaw hardened, a muscle fluttering along the curve, but he stayed silent.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll bring it in later.” I wouldn’t have been able to ship it for weeks, but I could lay it in the bed of my truck and drive it into town. Denver was right, we needed everything we could get for the auction.

Denver beamed. “You’re the best.” His smile dimmed a fraction. “You going to tell me what happened with your truck?”

My fingers found the drawstring of my shorts, and I curled the cord around them. “Just a stupid prank. But you know Trace doesn’t like anyone messing with his little sister.”

Denver chuckled. “Some poor kid is going to end up pissing himself when Trace corners him. That dude is scary when he wants to be.”

It was true. Trace had a gentle, easy, approachable demeanor most of the time. But when someone flipped that justice switch, it was best to steer clear.

“Hopefully, it’ll be a couple of days before he finds them. He’ll chill by then.”Maybe.

Denver nodded and quickly glanced at Linc. “All right. I’m heading back into town. Call me if you need help unloading the painting. I’ll be in and out of the gallery all day. I set up a bunch of interviews for Sam.”

Denver let that last sentence hang, and I knew why. He wantedme to offer up an interview with the reporter. But that wasn’t happening.

“Good luck. I’ll text when I bring the painting in.” What I didn’t say was that I’d also be texting Isaiah or Farah to check if the coast was clear and reporter-free. I wouldn’t put Hannah in that position. She was too nervous about hurting anyone’s feelings.

“Sounds good. See you later.” Denver gave me a salute that was a little ridiculous and studiously ignored Linc as he went to climb into his Subaru hatchback.

Linc watched him the whole way, not taking his eyes off him and then his vehicle until both had vanished from sight. Then, he turned slowly, his gaze dipping to mine. “I don’t like him.”

19

LINCOLN

Anger and annoyance swirled,each one battling for dominance. Denver Wick was a prick. The fact that his last name rhymed with the word was only greater proof that the two were intertwined.

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