Page 56 of Pictures in Blue
A bit early for dinner, isn’t it? Grab some for me and bring it here. We can eat, you can get your stuff, and we can go to the meeting together.
Together.
That word adds a crescendo to the melody and my heart picks up speed.
“What am I doing?” I ask out loud. The dogs all look at me, heads tilted, questioning.
The more important question is, what isshedoing? After telling me she just wanted to be friends, I would assume she’d rather meet me at the meeting and not come into my personal space.
Rubbing my hands over my face, I let out a sigh and return to my work, ignoring the pounding in my chest and the gnawing in my stomach that definitely isn’t from hunger.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
HUDSON
By the time Avery shows up, another hour has passed and I’ve made significant progress on Mia. Her outline is smoothed out and her profile is starting to take shape to resemble the picture Marie sent over.
I watch as Avery stops and stares at my house, probably trying to figure out how someone like me lives in such a large home. It’s a two-story cabin, with more rooms than I know what to do with, but when Elias designed it for me, Sarah insisted on adding rooms for the big family she was convinced I would have in the future. It may be large with way too much space for me, but it is comfortable for the dogs and I. Plus, Ethan has plenty of room to spread out when he comes to stay with me while his dad is stuck on a deadline for projects.
I hear her knock on the door and see her step back, waiting for me to answer. Judy and Bernard sprint over to her and start putting their noses on everything in sniffing distance before she lifts her head, looking in the direction they came from. She scratches under Judy’s chin as her eyes look up to find mine.
The pressure in my chest lightens as she walks toward me, brown bags in hand with the two dogs happily trotting at her heels. She is dressed in black leggings and a gray sweatshirt that is probably way too hot for the warmer weather, but she looks comfortable. And gorgeous.
“Hey,” she says quietly when she reaches the entrance to the barn.
I crouch down and reach for Judy and Bernard to come back next to me. “Sorry about them. They’re the ones who get a little bit too friendly with guests.”
“It’s fine,” she says, bending down to continue showering Judy with chin scratches. “I love dogs. Especially goldens,” she says. “I remember the stray I fed in our backyard when I was a kid. I risked sneaking him in the house a few times. He was my buddy.”
I don’t let my features change at her words; don’t let the excitement I feel at her admission show. We’re acquaintances. Two strangers passing in the night, oblivious to one another, buried in our own world as we continue walking. Except I’m not oblivious to her. As much as I wish I was, I’m not. The trepidation I felt earlier about her coming here lessens with her actual presence, and I feel a feathery lightness in my chest that I’m not sure what to do with.
“So, couldn’t help but come by again? Stalking me, Sunshine?” I give her a sideways grin, hiking up one eyebrow. Questioning.
“In your dreams, Waters. I’m here for the dogs,” she claps back.
I love it.
“I stopped by your sister’s,” she continues. “Her store, that is. I was bored and desperate and really wanted my camera. I was hoping to walk around town today to take some more pictures, but obviously I couldn’t and ended up scouting out places to take pictures tomorrow instead and stopped by Sky’s,” she says, pulling the red ribbon from her hair and running her fingers through it, letting it fall over her left shoulder.
“I was too restless without my camera and then realized it had been a while since I ate and figured since I wasn’t sure where I’m staying tonight, I’d get something to eat now, and well, here I am.”
The words come out in a rush and I’m surprised I am able to understand. In one hand she holds the bag of food I’m assuming is from Frank’s bar given the grease stains spreading on the bottom of the bag and from the scent of burgers filling the air. Her other hand rests at her side, opening and closing. I’ve noticed she does this in certain situations and after, she seems calmer…grounded. Since she helped me through my panic last night, I assume it’s a way of coping with anxiety. Something I don’t think she had planned on opening up about. I don’t think either of us planned on opening up the way we did, and I got the feeling she didn’t like being vulnerable any more than I did. Yet, here she is. A few feet away from me after we agreed to stay away from each other for the remainder of her trip.
Her eyes wander around my shop, landing on my shelf of projects, skimming over the pile of wood off to the side and stopping on the project I placed on the table a few minutes ago when I stood to greet her.
“What exactly is this?” She asks.
“My workshop.” I don’t know what it is about my answers that bother her, but for some reason, when I don’t go into massive detail and just give her the bare minimum, it creates a little wrinkle on her forehead and she squints her eyes at me in annoyance. Making the wrinkle appear is becoming my new favorite thing to do.
“Your workshop for?”
“My shop.” The wrinkle deepens.
“Your shop for?”
“My projects.” I think I can actually see the steam coming out of her ears. It’s so easy to get under her skin and part of me wishes she’d let me stay there. I’d attach myself to her forever, even if it’s just to see her forehead wrinkle and the death glare she gives me. She groans in frustration and doesn’t ask any more questions.
Instead, she walks over to the shelves and looks over the orders I haven’t sent yet. A small poodle named Isabel whose owners wanted a replica for their son to have in his room. Next to her is a great dane, Fiona. The bulk of my customers want the carvings as they are, no paint or anything, leaving the wood to show. But Fiona’s wanted me to paint her likeness and while it wasn’t something I really enjoyed doing, I like how hers turned out. She had a little bit of gray in the face that was hard to replicate, but after mixing the colors a few times, I was able to get it to come across the way it did in her pictures. She’s littered with black spots down her back, mixed with white and gray. I finished painting her a few days ago and I need to get her shipped to the owners either today or tomorrow, but I keep forgetting to grab packing supplies. That was my plan a few days ago after I finished fixing the espresso machine for Fran, but things changed.
