Page 108 of Fresh Canvas
Heavy, confident footsteps sounded from behind me. Kate’s eyes narrowed more with each footfall. There wasn’t enough murder in her glare to suggest Val, so I spun around with a bright smile.
“Brandon! It’s great to see you.”
Val’s new assistant stood beaming with his cocky, megawatt grin.
“It’s great to see you too, Amantha.” His green eyes dipped over Kate as his tone lowered seductively. “And it’s always lovely to see you, Katie, but I must say it seems to beextralovely tonight.” He had the nerve to bow, sweep her shocked hand up to his lips, and brush a formal kiss across her knuckles.
Kate’s audible gasp was a mix of shock and fury. She snatched her hand away and glared into her purse as she began to rifle through it.
I decided to intervene before Kate could skewer him with whatever she was grasping for—even though I knew Kate only ever carried pepper spray. Atthatthought, I snatched the bag and held it firmly behind my back.
“Brandon, thanks again for offering to help Kate run the silent auction.” I pressed a smile between my lips as Kate discreetly pinched my arm. Hard.
“Of course.” Brandon winked and said, “I’m always game to rescue a fair maiden in need.”
“Who the hell are you calling a fair maiden, you—” Kate’s mottled face was interrupted by my hand.
“Brandon, why don’t you take a seat and we’ll be right back.” I tugged Kate a few yards away and squared her shoulders to me. She looked entirely unhinged, her long, black face-framing curls askew. “Listen. I’m not going to ask you to run the auction table with someone you hate. But, I also see the way you watch him when you think no one’s looking.”
Her mouth clamped shut, the flush in her cheeks answering instead.
I grinned at the look of resignation on her face. “That’s a good girl. Now go get us lots of money for Stirling’s charity.”
When we returned, Brandon had claimed one of the two seats behind the auction table, relaxing with an ankle over his knee. He casually draped a heavy arm over the backrest of Kate’s chair when he saw her coming.
I watched Kate lift Brandon’s arm off her chair and dump it in his lap. Stifling my laugh with my hand, I walked away.
It was going to be interesting, if notentertaining, to see howthatall played out.
I spotted Stirling’s spiked auburn hair across the hall. The buzzing young artistwore an almost comically oversized gray suit over a white tank. A black necktie had been strung through his belt loops, dangling helplessly by his side. A pair of lemonade-colored sunglasses perched just above the golden piercing on his freckled nose. His nervous grin widened when he saw me.
“Stirling!” I reprimanded with a laugh. “The invitation said ‘Black Tie.’”
“And? I’m wearing a tie, aren’t I?” Stirling stepped back, flapping what I could only assume was his grandfather’s suit coat. “Rizz for days, Amantha. Rizz for days.”
I laughed harder and said, “I’m not even going to pretend I know what that means. But you look great. Youaregreat. Live it up tonight, okay?”
“Oh, I plan to. Just turned twenty-one a few weeks ago. Perfect timing if you ask me.” He swiped a glass of Prosecco from a passing tray as the black-vested servers took up their stations.
Countless voices began to waft up The Spiral, heavy feet and high heels stepping in a rhythm of anticipation. A bundle of nerves jolted across my skin, raising goosebumps.
“Okay, it’s showtime. Now get up there and greet your guests!”
Stirling’s freckled face was painted with equal parts eagerness and anxiety. He grinned and nodded at me.
“Remember that in about twenty minutes, we’ll do the reveal of your auction piece. Oh, and the Chicago Tribune and every online media outlet from your agent’s list will be here. Make sure you make time for them!”
Stirling rolled his eyes, his tone teasing. “Okay,Mom.”
I chuckled and hammed it up, clapping like the soccer mom I really was. “Go get ‘em champ!”
Stirling laughed and headed to the entrance. My laughter died on my lips as I glimpsed a smile from across the room. Val sat watching me on one of the plush armchairs, his elbows resting on his knees.
He seemed relaxed. Carefree. An empty champagne glass dangled from his knitted fingers as his glassy eyes locked with mine. That rugged face of his split into my favorite smile, the ridges of his eyes taunting me. Haunting me.
I stopped breathing. Muscle memory in my lungs failed me, as did my traitorous, racing heart. It took every ounce of self-control not to throw myself into his arms, to shake that stupid smile from his face, to kiss it, to scream at him for answers.
That’s not fair, I pleaded soundlessly.
