Page 38 of Horned to be Wild
He was still struggling with the shock as they walked back towards his truck, and she linked her arm through his, smiling up at him.
“I think we should do it.”
“Do what?” he asked, even though he already knew.
“Enter the Art Fair. A booth for my paintings and a booth for your carvings.”
“But-”
“And before you say they’re not, remember that he invited both of us.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because you’re incredibly talented and you’re the only one who doesn’t realize it?”
Despite the teasing note in her voice, he knew she meant it. It was the idea that others might think so as well that really shocked him.
“I’ll think about it,” he said at last, echoing her words.
“Good.”
He was still struggling with the idea when they returned to his truck a short time later. He lifted her into the passenger seat and she put her hand on his face before he could move away.
“Thank you for today,” she said simply.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You did everything.” She looked up at him, her eyes soft. “You stepped outside your comfort zone. For me.”
He swallowed hard, overwhelmed by the simple joy of having her with him, of knowing that she wanted him at her side.
“Let’s go check on your cottage,” he said gruffly.
They drove back towards her cottage, the comfortable silence between them filled with unspoken affection. She hummed softly to the radio, occasionally glancing at him with a smile that made his heart stutter.
As they rounded the final bend to her cottage, his entire body tensed.
A gleaming sports car waited in her driveway—sleek, expensive, and utterly out of place in Harmony Glen. Its polished surface reflected the sunlight like an alien intrusion into their peaceful world.
“What the hell?” she muttered, her back suddenly rigid.
He parked next to the car, a sinking feeling spreading through his chest.
A human male unfolded himself from the driver’s seat—tall, lean, and immaculately dressed in what was clearly an expensive suit. His hair was perfectly styled, his posture radiating the confidence of someone accustomed to getting his way. One glance was all Torin needed to know that this was Lila’s ex.
“Lila, darling!” the man called, his voice carrying a practiced charm that scraped against Torin’s ears like fingernails on slate. “I’ve been waiting for ages.”
“Jeremy,” she said flatly. “What are you doing here?”
Jeremy spread his hands in a magnanimous gesture. “Rescuing you, of course.” His eyes flicked dismissively over Torin, not even registering him as anything significant, before returning to Lila. “This quaint little delusion has gone on long enough, don’t you think?”
He remained frozen in place as Jeremy continued, each word a precisely aimed dagger.
“Your exhibition pieces have been gathering dust. Phillip at the gallery has been asking after you.” Jeremy approached her, completely ignoring Torin’s presence. “It’s time to come back to the city, where your real talent can be appreciated. This charming rustic phase has served its purpose, I’m sure, but you don’t actually belong here.”
You don’t belong here.Everything he’d feared, everything he’d tried to ignore, laid bare by this stranger who knew her world in ways he never could.
“I’ve made arrangements at your old studio,” Jeremy continued, his tone suggesting he was conferring a great favor. “There’s been considerable interest from some serious collectors.”
