Page 66 of Make it Real
“It’s…nice.”
His grin held a hint of vulnerability. “That bad?”
“It’s just kind of…”Not yourswas what I wanted to say, but what did I know? Maybe every man’s house looked like this. Doubted it, but maybe. He’d said he hadn’t quite felt like he’d settled in here yet, but this drove it home.
“Beige,” he finished for me.
The painting over the couch was the only spark of real life in the whole room. A smoky sunset sky sank low over forest scenery, part realistic landscape, part abstract dreamscape. The blue and purple sky offset the inky greens perfectly. “I like this.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s so vibrant. I love the layers of color and depth.” From all the obvious brushstrokes, pretty sure he hadn’t picked this up in a local big box store. “This wouldn’t be out of place in my room.”
“I thought that, too.”
In the lower right corner, something I’d taken to be part of the scenery clarified into the painter’s initials. JAE.
I whipped my head around to him. “What’s your middle name?”
“Alexander.”
My mouth dropped open. “You painted this?”
His smile twitched. “Depends on how much you like it.”
“I love it.”
“Then I painted it.”
“Seriously?” Usually, I picked up on his teasing pretty well, but just now, I couldn’t be sure. I’d never pictured him as an artist, and my brain struggled to adapt to the idea.
“I’m a man of many talents.”
Somebody had cranked up the heat in the room. I kept telling myself not to think about Jed’s talents, but here he was, giving me an opening and…yeah. He was probably themosttalented.
“Where, uh,” I said, swallowing because my neck was suddenly hotter than the asphalt outside. “Where do you paint?”
He crooked a finger, and I followed him to a short hallway that led to two rooms. Ushering me into one, déjà vu hit me so hard, I sucked in a breath. Half a dozen paintings lined the room, each depicting a different colorful landscape. Some held simple cabins or more complicated greenery, but most I’d call fairly basic. And yet, they were the prettiest paintings I’d ever seen.
“This reminds me of my room.” I couldn’t even believe how alike they were.
“I had the same thought.”
His soft voice made me turn to face him, but that proved too much. I couldn’t name exactly what his eyes held, but whatever it was, it overwhelmed. Fighting that weird sense oftoo much, I made a quick circuit of the room, examining the beautiful paintings and expressing my admiration over each one. Like he often did when something really mattered to him, he accepted my praise with humility, smiling and nodding without a trace of crowing.
One corner held an easel over a drop cloth. The canvas there held bright swaths of greens and blues, like the sky over pastures but less defined.
“Is this for June and Ty?”
“It’s for their wedding. How could you tell?”
“It just looks like them.” Like he’d captured them in color somehow. “When did you start painting?”
Leaning against the door frame, he hitched his shoulders. “Just the last year. It’s something to distract me when I can’t sleep.”
He sounded casual enough, but I suspected something deeper there.
“You have a hard time sleeping sometimes?”
