Page 97 of Sinful as They Come
“I’ll show you the room you’ll be working in.” She smiled brightly, grabbing a clipboard off the desk. “Follow me!”
Holly happily spun on her heels, taking quick steps to our right. My eyes couldn’t help but land on her ass as she walked. It was so round, so peachy. I hated that she was so hot…
She rounded a corner and I followed her, watching as she pushed open a large door. We were soon standing inside an empty room, a giant stretch of white before me. The canvas was huge and looked like it was made of unprimed cotton, maybe a good ten feet wide. It was most definitely the biggest project I would have ever worked on.
“So this is where I’ll be for the next two months?” My eyes searched around the big room. In front of the canvas sat all the supplies I could everneed: brushes, acrylics, a step ladder, palette knives, varnish spray, some clean rags. Everything looked high quality; so much better than the shit I had at home.
“Yup. This space is all yours. Feel free to pop into the café downstairs. They said they’ll give you whatever you want. It’s on the house,” she explained. “Do you have any questions?”
“When the hell did you get so nice?” I mumbled out before I could stop myself.
Holly smiled at me. “I’ve always been nice, thank you very much.”
Maybe she was right. Maybe I had been so focused on hating her and everything she stood for that I just couldn’t see it.
“Well, either way… Thanks for doing this,” I said lowly. “I really need the money right now. And if I can get my foot through the door or something, then that’d be even better.”
“The library has a lot of art connections thanks to Eric. And you know he already loves you. This should end up being a really awesome opportunity for you.”
I nodded at her words, staring at the blank canvas, doing my best to focus on the pure and empty white before me. That was mostly because I had found myself staring into Holly’s eyes far too much lately. Why’d they have to be so big and pretty?
I cleared my throat. “Cool. Guess I’ll get started on this then.” I nodded at the empty canvas. What the hell was I gonna paint? I could do so many different things with the space.
“Awesome. Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it. But just call me if anything comes up, okay?” Holly offered with a bright smile.
“I don’t have your number…” Me and Holly had never had a need to call one another. Ever.
“Oh.” Holly scribbled down something on the back of some paper on her clipboard. She tore the paper in half, handing it over to me with what I could only label as a shy smile. “Call me if you need anything,” she said.
Her soft fingers brushed up against my hand as she gave me the sheet. Then she gave me a little wave, disappearing through the door. My eyeslowered, taking in the digits she had written down. I had Holly Sutton’s phone number – a goal almost all the guys at school strived to achieve.
I couldn’t help but feel a little sense of pride as I slid the bit of paper into my pocket.
Chapter 34
HOLLY
My breath caught in my throat a little when I saw Sawyer a week into the project. Light wash jeans, white tee, hair pushed back… Oh my God.
He hadn’t seen me yet, and it gave me a chance to stare at him some more. His forehead was covered in the lightest layer of sweat, the white material of his tee covered in a rainbow of streaks. His strong forearms were messy too, his skin layered in stripes of blue and red and green. And he had his pink lips parted, letting out a long, almost tired sounding breath. It was obvious he had been working hard.
That was when he finally looked up. I could have sworn he gave his lips the tiniest of licks when he got sight of me, his eyes running up and down my body in a way that made me blush.
I cleared my throat and tucked some hair behind my ear. I had been caught staring. “They wanted me to check in on you.” I broke the silence. “Just to see how you were going with everything. And if you needed anything.”
“They got you babysitting me now?” he asked with a warm chuckle. He picked up a cloth that had been hanging off the back of a chair, giving his hands a quick wipe.
“No,” I laughed. “Just wanna make sure you’ve got everything you need.” I suddenly remembered the ice-cold bottle of water in my hand and held it out to him. The room was pretty warm. “Oh, and to give you this.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled.
He took the bottle from me gently and I focused far too hard on the way he tilted his head back to drink up the cold, clear liquid. My eyes zeroed in on his forearms, realizing then just how thick and muscular they looked. Sawyer almost always had that leather jacket of his on. It was a little odd to see him without it, but I wasn’t going to complain about the sight before me.
I shook my head, not wanting him to catch me staring again, and instead focused on the half-finished art behind him. I could see mountains. A long line of them. They were a deep hue, their surfaces cloaked in a gorgeous combination of purple and orange and pink thanks to the setting sun. The bottom of the painting had yet to be completed, but I could see the beginning of what I assumed was grass. Mixed in with the few green blades were some yellow and purple flowers. I tilted my head, wanting to take in every single inch of Sawyer’s work. His piece screamed quietness. Comfort. Close, silent beauty. I wanted to reach out and touch it, just let my fingers gently graze the canvas.
“You like it?” Sawyer wondered behind me, his voice low.
“It’s so beautiful,” I whispered. “You are so talented. Seriously.”
