Page 31 of Artfully Wild
“Back to where you were!” she shouts a few seconds later, making the blush return to my cheeks.
“So, how exactly do you want to do this?” I ask, moving toward Riley to direct his attention away from the paintbrushes he was eying.
“You’re the expert here, Waters. You tell me.”
“Well, you did say portraits, so how do you want this littleguy to be? Like one of those cheesy portraits where they’re in English clothes or something?”
“Oh my god, please, let’s do that.” Riley lets out a bark as Jacob lifts him up and tucks him into his chest. He tries to squirm and even nips at a finger, but Jacob doesn’t budge. He just holds the dog and pats his head.
“Absolutely not, I was joking. I refuse to paint that.”
“Such a killjoy.” His hands are buried into Riley’s fur, scratching and petting. A few minutes pass and the pomeranian is perfectly content in Jacob’s arms and I don’t blame him. If he was touching me like that, I wouldn’t want to move either.
“If you’re going to have your thoughts written all over your face like that, sweetheart, we are never going to get any work done.”
My fingers itch to reach out and touch him, to give into the urge we were fulfilling before Charlotte got home. Instead, I busy them with paintbrushes and paint. Mixing colors on a palette—one I bought when I first started painting when I was in high school—I shift my thoughts into my creative side, ignoring the path they really want to take.
“You don’t really have to hold him while I paint the base color. We wanted it blue right?”
“I think?”
My brush knocks against the easel as I let my hand fall and glare at my best friend. All the lust and warmth from before is replaced with playful annoyance. “You think?”
“Yes?”
“Then why did we spend all that time at Hector’s if you weren’t sure?”
“Well, I was at first,” he says, sheepishly. Riley lands with a soft clack of his nails as Jacob sets him down. “But then I had another idea and I was nervous to bring it up.”
“I’m listening.”
He grabs my hands and guides them around his back untilthey’re clasped together and there’s no space between our bodies.
“What if you painted Blue Grove in the background? Put some of home into the pieces too? That way you can paint what you really love, while also helping me.”
My first instinct is to immediately say no, because I know how much work it will be to do all of that in less than two weeks. But I can feel that familiar tug begging me to agree to it. That passion that drove me before is one that I haven’t felt. And how can I deny the man who is looking down at me now with so much admiration and hope within his eyes?
“Let’s see what I can do with the animals first and go from there. I might be able to do it on some of them, but I don’t think I’d have enough time for all of them.”
“Alright then, let’s get started.” My cheek heats as he places a quick kiss there before he turns in search of the dog.
It takes a few minutes for him to round up Riley. He keeps hiding underneath the table and then running around to the other side when he realizes Jacob is closing in. Once the dog is off the ground and in his arms, Jacob buries his hands into deep orange fur, attempting to calm him. While he focuses on getting Riley settled, I start getting out my graphite pencils and setting up the canvas.
“So, have you given more thought to what you’re going to do the weekend before the festival?” Jacob’s voice is quieter than it was before, more reserved.
“Turn toward me and walk about five steps closer,” I instruct, fully intending to ignore his question. To be honest, besides him, it’s all I’ve been thinking about. Going to the resort and signing the paperwork to officially sell the store.
Grabbing a pencil, I start a rough sketch of Riley’s face. Sketching is how I started out and with something that I have never really done before, going back to what I know I do well is probably a good idea instead of free handing. This will makepainting later a lot easier and the shelter animals won’t have to sit for nearly as long.
“You know I’ll just ask again.”
I look up at him for a second before flicking my eyes back to the sketch. “I don’t know,” I say with a shrug of my shoulders. “I’ve been back and forth on it a lot. I should go and talk to Camp face-to-face, but—”
“But what?”
“No idea, to be honest. I just have reservations on either side. Like no matter what I do, it’s going to be a mistake.”
The shape of Riley’s face reminds me of a fox the more it takes shape on the canvas, which makes me like him a little bit more.
