Page 8 of Infinite as They Come
Her laugh was soft as she leaned into me. “Well, I forgive you for that.”
I reached over and grabbed the card that was on top of the pile. My thumb ran over it, feeling the textured detailing along the field that blended into the smooth thick card below. It wasn’t some cheap flimsy card. Of course Holly went out and got the most expensive ones possible. “You got me a website too?” I asked.
“Of course. You need some place for everyone to see your paintings, right? Every artist needs a place like that. And what better way than to have a website dedicated to the most talented one I know,” she said, pressing her soft lips to mine. “You can just give people a card now when they ask about your art. I don’t know how much you wanna charge and I’d spoil the surprise if I asked you, so I didn’t put any prices up, but when someone reaches out, you can just tell them your preferred price. The website has all the photos so people can see everything before they pay you.”
“Photos? Did you put the ones of you on there?” I asked lowly, my eyes narrowing a little.
She gave me a teasing smile. “A couple.”
“Holly.”
“Just kidding! The ones of me are safe and sound. I did all the other ones, though.”
“You went all out, huh?” I said. “You really think people are gonna buy that stuff?”
“Mhm. I know it.” She kissed me again. “Ooh, I should interview you. That’d be fun. I can add it to my portfolio, and I’ve never interviewed you before.”
“You wrote that thing about me back in high school.” I saidthat thinglike it was some casual, little moment in time, but I still clung on to that article. It meant too much to me to ever part ways with it. It was safe and sound back in New York, tucked away where it could never be ruined.
“Yeah, but I never got to sit down and talk to you,” she said. “And I havesomany questions I wanna ask you…”
“Nosy little thing, hm?”
“Let’s do it,” she said, circling her arms around me as she sat on my lap, her legs either side of me, locking me right in the best place I could ever be. “I want to knoweverything.”
“You already know everything.”
“I want to know more.” Her hands moved up to my hair, pushing all my locks back. “What goes on inside the mind of a brooding artist?”
“Not much,” I mumbled lazily. My eyes lowered for a second when I saw the little silver pendant dangling against her chest. It was the necklace I had gotten her years ago, and she still wore it every day like it cost a million bucks. It always made my heart race a little to see that silver on her.
“What inspires you the most?”
Youwas the answer, because every single time I grabbed a brush and had a blank canvas looking back at me, all I could think about was painting Holly. Gorgeous golden skin, pretty brown eyes, silky dark hair. Perfection, really, so what the hell else was supposed to inspire me?
But because I wanted to tease her a little, I gave her a shrug. “I don’t know. Stuff.”
“Sawyer.” She groaned, burying her face in my neck for a second before pulling away. “Okay, how about I ask you an easy question? Hm? Will you answer that?”
“Depends on the question.”
Her tongue clicked for a couple seconds before her brows raised. “Oh, I know. What’s your favorite color? See? Easy.”
Yeah, thatwaseasy. “Brown,” I said, not hesitating for a second.
Her head tilted. “Why brown?”
“It’s nice. Just like it a lot.”
“That’s your answer? I want details.”
“You’re being rude, Holly. This interview is over.”
“Hey,” she whined softly, shuffling in closer to me. “I just wanna know why you like it so much.”
Humming, I let my hands grasp at her hips, keeping her secure in my lap. “You really wanna know?” I asked.
She nodded, hands still secured there against my shoulders. “Yes, please.”
