Page 19 of Demon Loved
No wonder she’d wanted to have the frame changed out to match her exact specifications.
And although Ms. Doyle thanked them, she also ushered him and Brianna out quickly, saying she needed to get ready for her guests before she closed the front door behind them.
“Thank you,” Brianna told Belshegar once they were heading down the rose-bordered path to the street. She looked as if she was about to burst out laughing at any moment, and he supposed he could see why there had been something somewhat amusing about the situation. “I’m sorry you got roped into that.”
He wasn’t entirely certain as to the meaning of “roped” in that context, but he assumed it had something to do with being coerced. “It’s fine,” he said. “I’m glad I could help.”
“Helen Doyle’s kind of a force of nature,” Brianna went on as they began to walk down the street toward the main thoroughfare. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone say no to her. I suppose that’s why she’s so effective as president of the historical preservation society — people fall in line and make the necessary upgrades or repairs rather than get on her bad side.”
“She is somewhat terrifying,” he agreed, and now Brianna did chuckle. The sound was as musical as her singing voice, and he knew he wanted to hear her laugh as often as he could.
“Well, here’s hoping she doesn’t plan on buying anything else from the gallery anytime soon,” she said. “But she fell in love with that painting of Connor’s, and I have to admit it does look really good in her living room.”
“‘Connor’?” Belshegar repeated. Something seemed significant about the name, although he couldn’t say why. “He’s the artist?”
Now Brianna’s expression looked almost guarded. However, she sounded neutral enough as she said, “Yes. Connor Wilcox. He’s kind of famous around here — does lots of plein air landscapes of the Verde Valley and Sedona and Flagstaff.”
Belshegar wasn’t sure what “plein air” meant. But at least he knew what a landscape painting was, so he nodded and hoped he looked as if he understood what she was talking about.
Aside from the painting, though, he was beginning to see how truly difficult it was to be in Brianna McAllister’s presence and not betray anything of how she affected him. Out here in the sunlight, her hair glinted like pure spun gold, and although the brighter illumination should have revealed any flaws in her complexion or her features, he certainly couldn’t find them.
If he were at all intelligent, he would find a way to end their conversation quickly so he could go back to exploring Jerome and doing his best to discover where the prima’s house was located. However, when he opened his mouth, he found himself saying, “I know we’re meeting Saturday to go to the folk festival, but would you be interested in having dinner again tonight?”
Her mouth quirked. Her lips were too perfectly formed to become precisely lopsided, but there was something endearing about her expression for all that.
“I would,” she said, her tone serious. “Only I’m buying this time.”
“I’m the one who asked — ” he began, but she just shook her head.
“You asked first,” she told him, that hint of a smile still playing around her mouth. “But the thought had entered my mind, too, so it only seems fair that this one is my treat. How about we meet down at Bocce in Cottonwood?”
He assumed “Bocce” was a restaurant of some sort. That would have been fine, except….
“I don’t have a car,” he said. “A taxi brought me here.”
Which was only the truth. Yes, that taxi had materialized out of nowhere rather than bringing him to Jerome from the airport in Phoenix, but Brianna didn’t have to know that.
She didn’t seem too put off by his revelation that he didn’t have a car of his own at his disposal. “Then I’ll pick you up at the hotel. Seven o’clock?”
“That would be fine,” he replied.
And would give him the rest of the afternoon to continue with his exploring. At least now Brianna would only think he was out sketching again, rather than doing his best to discover where those magical artifacts had been hidden.
“I need to get back to the gallery,” she said. “But I’ll see you at seven.”
She lifted her hand in a wave and began walking toward Main Street and her place of business. Belshegar stood on the sidewalk and watched her go.
And although he wanted to shake his head at himself, he wouldn’t bother wasting energy on such a human gesture when there was no one around to see it. Instead, he shifted his sketchbook to the other hand and turned onto a small cross street they’d passed on their way to Helen Doyle’s house.
Perhaps there would be nothing to find here, but he thought he should at least appear as if he was making an effort.
Just in case.
7
Although Bree kept telling herself she had no real reason to be nervous about this second date with Bill Garrett, she still couldn’t ignore the flutters in her stomach as she pointed her ancient Chevy Suburban up the hill toward the Grand Hotel. A single date with a person could be discarded easily enough, tossed aside like an old movie ticket or a receipt for groceries that had been consumed weeks ago.
But a second date? In a lot of ways, that was much more fraught. Seeing a person a second time meant there might be a possibility of a future between two people.
