Page 73 of Beautiful Exile

“Blue balls, it is,” Linc muttered.

Brutus turned and licked his cheek.

Linc chuckled. “A little solidarity. Finally.”

“I don’t know about that. Brutus hasn’t had balls for a long time.”

Linc covered the dog’s ears. “Don’t remind him. That’s just cruel.”

I laughed as I pulled into an empty spot a little bit down from The Collective. “Come on.” I hooked Brutus’s leash to his collar, and he looked up at me balefully.

“And now you add insult to injury,” Linc said, shaking his head. “I’d never do this to you, B.”

I rolled my eyes. “Then you’d get a ticket from Trace.”

“I can afford it.”

“Billionaires,” I muttered, shutting the door behind me and Brutus.

As I started toward The Collective with Linc at my side, he peered down at me, confusion in his gaze. “I’ve already been to The Collective.”

“Yes. But you haven’t been to one of our art camps. They’re my favorite.”

The confusion melted into something else, and whatever the emotion was, there was a tenderness to it. “Thanks for letting me into your world, Vicious.”

“You’re welcome, Cowboy.”

Brutus wagged his tail as we walked up the path to The Collective. There was a table set up in the gallery space, where I knew parents would check their kids in for the day. Behind it stood Farah with a shit-eating grin.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in. A reclusive artist and the man who looks like he needs to be climbed like a tree.”

I choked on a laugh. “Farah.”

She held up both hands. “I just call ‘em like I see ‘em. Can’t be helped.”

“Well, try to refrain from any tree climbing, would you?”

Farah waggled her eyebrows. “I can’t make any promises.”

“I swear, between you and Lolli, it’s a miracle I don’t have gray hair,” I muttered.

Linc dipped his head to kiss my temple. “You’d look cute rockin’ the grays.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Farah mumbled and started fanning herself. “Get outta my sight before I combust.”

I laughed and led Linc down the hall. I pointed out the different studio and storage spaces as we went. We saw works in progress from Hannah, Isaiah, and Farah. And it looked like Hannah’s watercolor that she’d been struggling with had found its stride.

The Collective’s building formed a U shape with the gallery on one side and the storage and studio spaces in the other two. But what lay in the middle was my favorite part.

I slowed before a set of French doors, the sounds of voices and laughter on the other side filtering around me. I glanced up at Linc. “Welcome to one of my favorite places.”

Opening the doors, I gestured for Linc to pass through. I tried to take it in through his eyes. The courtyard had a magical feel to it, as if it were a land that could be home to fairies. Fig trees were scattered around, their branches wrapped in lights. And the entire space was oriented with the best views of the mountains.

But there currently wasn’t a whole lot of peace to be found in the space. A little girl screeched as she leapt over one of the planters teeming with flowers. A little boy held up a paintbrush like he was about to duel with someone. Half a dozen miniature tables covered in art supplies had been set up.

“Who knew this was hidden away back here?” Linc said, taking it all in.

“We can open some doors in the gallery for events. It makes for a nice spot for cocktails and hors d'oeuvres.”

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