Page 16 of A Heart to Find
As their paintings began to take shape, he had to admit that he hadn’t been joking about his own lack of talent.
He leaned toward her and whispered, “I think my castle more closely resembles a jagged rock. And this sheep looks like a cloud fell onto the field here.”
Her giggle had the power to make him float.
“Yours, on the other hand, looks exactly like a castle my rental car broke down near.”
She paused mid-stroke and shifted her upper body toward him slightly.
“You’ve been near a real castle?”
“Of course. Many of them. Photographing castle ruins is practically my bread and butter. People who happen upon my travel blog love them.”
Was she playing him, or had she never actually searched for him online?
“Well, now you’re just bragging.” She wrinkled her nose at him, but the corners of her lips lifted at the same time. “The closest thing to a castle I’ve been near is the armory in Healing Springs.”
“That’s because you’re not into traveling. I think you’d love Scotland, though, if you ever decided to venture off this continent.”
She sighed and resumed adding details to the grass around her castle. “Convince me.”
That was a challenge he was up for.
He spent the next twenty minutes feeding her non-adventurous soul tales of the beautiful countryside, the bleating sheep, and the mystical feeling that came over him whenever he walked around the ruins. Her intent listening made his belly feel like it was filled with a warm ball of goo. She seemed to enjoy hearing about the kindness of the people—how they’d stop to let a pedestrian cross the road even if there wasn’t a crosswalk in sight. Their hospitality, their humor, and of course, their whisky.
“It all sounds…surreal.”
“Feels that way, too.”
He reached for the vial of gray paint at exactly the same moment as she did. Their fingers brushed, sending a jolt of sensation up his arm. She jerked away and rubbed her fingers across her forehead, streaking herself with grass-green paint. He reached over to clear away the smudge, but she jumped back as if under attack. Her stool clanked to the floor, attracting the attention of everyone in the room.
“Oh, um, oops.” She bent to rescue the fallen stool at the same time he bent to retrieve it. Their heads bonked together hard enough that someone in the room gasped from the cracking sound.
Keira burst into laughter, pressing painted fingers to her head, making the initial smudge seem small in comparison. Jared came to the rescue with a damp rag he grabbed from a neighboring couple, but when he tried to wipe the paint away, he made it worse. Realizing he should have checked to be sure the rag was clean, he cringed and tried to apologize.
But her laughter only grew stronger.
Wanting nothing more than to get her to the point of snorting in laughter, he wiped the soiled rag across his own face, grimacing exaggeratedly, hoping she’d laugh even harder. “We might as well match, I suppose.”
She didn’t let him stop there. She reached behind him and grabbed a vial of paint. With a twinkle in her mascara-smeared eyes, she squeezed dots of paint over his cheeks and chin. He puckered up and posed as if modeling for the cover of a men’s magazine.
Snort.
Mission accomplished!
Keira’s snort made her crumple into more laughter. He couldn’t contain his own glee, especially as she clutched her cheeks and exclaimed that they hurt from laughing so much.
He wanted this for her. This pure, unbridled joy.
“I think I need to call it a night.” She inhaled deeply, bursting into laughter as she looked at his painted face again. “We are such a mess.”
“True. But we’re a fun mess, aren’t we?”
Her nod appeared genuine.
Her eyes softened.
“Wait a second. Call it a night? It’s barely afternoon.” He didn’t want to end the day already. “Grab some dinner?”
