Page 26 of Demon Loved
The stranger lifted an eyebrow and then directed his attention toward the sketchbook. “May I?”
When presented with such a direct question, Belshegar knew there was no way to demur without possibly raising some questions. Irrationally, his heartbeat sped up a little as he handed over the notepad. Foolish, he knew, but he couldn’t always control this human form’s physical reactions.
“Of course.”
The man took the book and flipped through it. There weren’t so many sketches, maybe ten in all, but Belshegar hoped he could explain that away by saying he’d only begun working on them after he arrived in Jerome.
A nod, and then the stranger handed the sketchbook back to him.
“They’re really quite good,” he said. “You might want to reconsider not sharing those with anyone else.”
“Thank you,” Belshegar replied, since there didn’t seem to be any other way to respond. He couldn’t explain that he didn’t have any real talent, that he was only mimicking what he’d seen Elena do as she learned more about her art and had gotten more sure of her talent. Her prodigious gifts hadn’t truly begun to blossom until she’d escaped from the house that had been her prison for so many years and she’d had the freedom to work in the oils that were her true medium, but her pencil sketches had been lovely as well, somehow strong and delicate at the same time.
“Enjoy yourself,” the man said, and headed back into the yellow house.
Belshegar wouldn’t allow himself to sag with relief — not when he couldn’t be sure if someone else might be in the house watching him through a window — but he drew in a breath anyway, thanking the universe in general for the spells that were doing such an excellent job of hiding the truth of his nature from everyone around him.
But because he couldn’t be sure he wasn’t being observed, he knew what he needed to do. He shifted his position on the sidewalk to allow himself a better perspective of the big yellow house.
And then he flipped to a new page in his sketchbook and began to draw.
9
Her Friday night gig at 1912 Winery had helped to distract Brianna from her upcoming performance at the folk festival and her day date with Bill Garrett, but now that the morning had come and she was pushing her way through the clothes in her closet, trying to decide which outfit would be best for both activities, she couldn’t ignore the nervous ache in the pit of her stomach.
Just breathe, she told herself, deciding one top would be too warm and another too casual.
Maybe a dress?
She released a huff of annoyance and went back into the dining room, where her half-drunk cup of coffee sat waiting for her on the table. A few sips didn’t seem to help very much, but she swallowed some more anyway.
Green tea might have made her less jangly, but there wasn’t much she could do about that now.
All right, maybe she should double-check the weather reports.
A glance at her phone told her it was going to be eighty-five degrees and sunny today. Certainly warm enough for a tank top and sandals and one of the pretty sequined peasant skirts she’d bought at a boutique in Sedona when they were having an end-of-summer sale last year.
But would the sequins catch the sunlight too much and possibly annoy some of the members of her audience with their dancing reflections?
Okay, now you’re really overthinking things, she scolded herself. Stop screwing around.
Bellamy had said once that Bree tended to go back and forth whenever making a decision because she was a Libra, someone who needed to weigh all the possible angles when faced with a choice. While Brianna still wasn’t sure how much stock she should place in astrology, she’d been forced to admit that her friend had a point there.
One last swallow of coffee, and then she marched back into the bedroom, resolutely pulled out the skirt she’d been thinking of, one that swirled with tie dye in shades of turquoise and soft green and deeper blue, along with a green tank top she’d bought a while back because it was the perfect pale mint color to go with the skirt. Some silvery flip-flops and turquoise jewelry, and she figured she had herself a pretty decent performance outfit.
And date ensemble. She honestly had no idea how the day was even going to go — would she and Bill realize they were good together in small doses, but an entire afternoon was a bridge too far? — and yet she also realized it was way too late to do anything except proceed as planned. It wasn’t as if she could pull out of the folk festival at this late date, and it also wasn’t as if she could cancel things with Bill, either.
Okay, she probably could do that if she really wanted to, although any excuse she tried to manufacture sounded impossibly weak in her mind.
Also, she really did want to see him. She’d thought that maybe a day away from him would have given her some perspective, would have allowed her to concede that, sure, he was a nice guy, but nothing terribly special.
Except that assessment would have been dead wrong. The more she was out and around other people, the more she realized how truly unique he was. A man who looked like a male model but didn’t seem to notice how handsome he was? A guy who would drop everything to help her install a painting at a total stranger’s house?
Men like that didn’t come along very often.
Actually, they hadn’t come along at all…well, not until Bill Garrett arrived in Jerome. Even if they didn’t have any kind of a future together, Brianna knew she’d be stupid not to spend every moment with him that she possibly could until it was time for him to go back to L.A.
Now that she’d firmed up that particular reality in her mind, she felt better about getting in the shower and performing the rest of her preparations that morning. Most of the time, she didn’t wear a lot of makeup, just some mascara and a bit of lip stain or gloss, but because she would be performing, she knew she needed to put in more effort than that. Foundation with sunscreen, since she’d be outside most of the day, and blush and eyeshadow and a hint of liner to go with her usual mascara. Lip stain rather than gloss, though, because whatever she put on needed to last as long as possible.
