Page 28 of Neat
“Mallory…” Logan whispered, like speaking too loud in the space would disrupt it somehow. He stopped in the middle of the room, eyes scanning the ceiling before his gaze found me. “This is incredible.”
I blew out a breath. “Really?”
“Are you kidding?” He smirked. “You have your ownart studio,your own business. I’m so impressed.” Logan shook his head, looking around again. “I can’t wait to see what you do with it.”
“Right?” I said, excitement bubbling over the anxiety as I pushed out of my corner and flew across the room. “I want it to be a multi-channel visual arts studio, with more than just one thing to offer. Like, over here, we’ll have painting classes, with live models and still life and scenery inspiration, with all mediums — watercolor, oil, pastel, maybe even spray painting to jazz it up from time to time. And over here, sketch classes.” I pointed to the far corner. “I want to transform that little office back there into a dark room to develop photographs, and do some walking tours around town where I can teach the photography essentials, help those who are interested in the art. Oh!” I skipped to the other side of the room. “And, over here, I thought I could put in an electric kiln, offer some pottery and ceramic classes. I think it’d be great for kids, and I could have more advanced classes for the adults — like vases and other things they’d love to decorate their homes with. And of course, I could host parties, do a sort of paint-by-numbers fun class like they do at those little drink and paint places in Nashville.”
I whipped back around, smile nearly splitting my face — because though we were standing in an empty studio, it wasn’t empty to me anymore. I could see it —allof it — every little picture I’d just painted verbally coming alive as if I’d dreamed it into reality in that dark space.
When my eyes found Logan again, he was watching me in a way I’d never been watched before. One brow was slightly quirked, his eyes wide and curious, the corner or his mouth lifted. It was like I was a street performer he’d just stumbled upon, like he was trying to figure out what I was doing, where the act was going, how much he should leave in my tip jar.
“What?” I asked, breathless.
His smile climbed. “I just love seeing people talk about what they’re most passionate about,” he said simply. “And I’m excited. For you, for this place. It’s going to be great, Mallory.”
I blushed, and as soon as I realized that was what was happening, that the heat in my cheeks was a visible sign of being a mixture of embarrassed and flattered, I wanted to slap myself — I probablywouldhave, if that wouldn’t have made me look like even more of a weirdo.
Suddenly, a dark figure scurried out from the back office, little legs carrying it straight toward me. But before I could bend to scratch behind Dalí’s ear, Logan wrapped his arms around my waist, swinging me behind him and standing like a brick wall between me and the ball of fluff like it was a bear instead of a cat. One hand held me in place behind him as the other splayed in front of him, like a shield or a weapon.
If it wasn’t somehow so fucking endearing that he was trying to protect me from something, I would have laughed.
“Wait!” I said, grabbing his shoulders to hold him back from killing my furry friend. “It’s just Dalí.”
Logan relaxed — though only marginally, and he still stood in front of me. “Who?”
I chuckled, releasing my grip on his shoulders as I made my way around him and bent to pick up the cat. “Dalí,” I repeated. “He was a stray, and I adopted him. Thought he’d make a pretty cute shop cat.”
Dalí croaked out an old meow when he was in my arms, his signature motorboat purr sparking to life. He was warm, like he’d been wrapped in a ball sleeping somewhere in the back, but I couldn’t shake the fact that I missed another warmth I’d had just moments before.
Logan’s body against mine, his hand on my waist…
“He is pretty cute,” Logan said, relaxing even more now. He took a step toward us, reaching one finger under Dalí’s chin to rub the patch of white there. Dalí leaned into the touch, which earned a chuckle from Logan and a smile from me.
When Dalí had enough petting for his liking, he wormed around in my arms until I lowered him back to the ground. He meowed once more before skipping off somewhere in the back, and then it was just Logan and me again.
His eyes bounced between mine. “Sorry I grabbed you,” he said, reaching for the back of his neck with an embarrassed shrug. “Acting like a big bad knight in shining armor, protecting you from acat.”
I let out a soft laugh, folding my hands in front of me. “I appreciate the gesture. Glad to know I’d have some help if small, furry animals tried to overrun the shop.”
Logan smirked.
“Anyway, thanks for indulging me,” I said on an awkward laugh, covering my face when I remembered how I’d pranced around the empty shop like an idiot as I explained my vision for what it would become. I let my hands fall to my thighs with a slap, letting out a long breath. “It really has been a long day.”
He straightened at that, his face leveling. “Yeah, let me get out of your hair, let you get some sleep,” he said, his feet moving toward the door — toward me. He stopped with just a foot between us, and I felt that distance like it was a live wire, buzzing and sparking and warning of danger. “But, thank you for showing me… and for the apology for today.”
I flushed again.
Stupid traitorous cheeks.
“Thank you for forgiving me,” I replied. “And for letting us start over, so I can show you I’m not acompletebrat.”
“Just a somewhat brat.”
“Right.”
He smiled. “I’m looking forward to the new beginning.”
“Me, too.”
