Page 50 of Fresh Canvas
“Trust me. I’m not so thrilled either.”
I glared up at the man towering over me.
How in the world was there still space in my seething brain for attraction? I clenched my fists to stop myself—either from punching his handsome face or satiating my need to fully explore his bottom lip. Both options seemed equally delicious.
Val gritted his teeth. “Promise me you’ll keep this between us, at least for tonight. Give me the night to think. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to keep my job. Besides, we don’t even know if it’s forged.”
“Itis.”
A muscle feathered in his jaw as he stared down at me. “Well, we’ll find out tomorrow, won’t we?" His mouth twisted into a frown, though I could have sworn a flicker of nerves passed through his eyes. “I guess if we met for dinner tomorrow night, that would give us time to talk.”
A humorless laugh burst from my mouth. “Dinner with you?In public? Absolutely not.”
“Fine then.” Val stalked to the door, grasping the silver doorknob. He barely spared me a glance as he rattled off, “Lincoln City Park, tomorrow at four. Meet me by the Eli Bates Fountain.” Then he swept out the door and was gone.
fourteen
AMANTHA
Rolling gray clouds threatened the city of Chicago. The June breeze was unpredictable, thick with the promise of rain. Fitting. Any encounter with Val Russo could ruin someone’s day, but meeting him in public? Well, that could obviously ruin the perfect summer weather we’d been having.
This better not be an omen.
I had a sinking suspicion that it was.
Already sticky from the humidity, I had caught a taxi from my apartment to Lincoln Park. Refusing to be uncomfortable—more than I already was—I wore a pair of trendy cut-off shorts Kate had forced me to buy and a boring, pale blue cotton t-shirt.
Balance.
I had strongly considered ignoring Val’s demand to meet. Anthony had finally called earlier this morning, and while it was wonderful to hear his voice, my renewed awareness of the distance between us weighed down on me. All I wanted to do was drive home to Mom for our heartache tradition of eating a pint of ice cream and binging TV.
And that forged painting wasn’t helping my mood either.Stumbling upon criminal evidence, withValof all people, was the last thing I had expected. Why wouldn’t Val at least tell Kendra?It still didn’t make sense. No matter how I spun it, something felt off.
Winding through the grassy knolls, another persistent thought unsettled me. My fingers mindlessly trailed up and down my arms as I walked, a phantom replica of Val’s touch.
Rick’s closet.
How dare Val shove me into it like he owned the place. My blood had already been boiling, but my temperature had continued to rise for an entirely different reason. Val’s touch had been electrifying, his golden-flecked eyes captivating.
I couldn’t fight a tiny smile from breaking over my face. Those soft, concerned words sounded so unlike him—or so I thought. He had, in that moment at least, seemed to truly care about my wellbeing.
My smile faltered.
But IhatedVal. Didn’t I?
Well, maybe hate was too strong a word. Dislike? Indifferent to?
Sure, I had learned more about the man that didn’t scream “serial killer,” but was that enough?
Last night had been intense in every sense of the word.
I clapped a hand to my forehead with a self-deprecating laugh. Ofcoursemy body’s reaction was because of the forgery. I was in shock, and that was that.
Regardless, I couldn’t ignore the increase of my heartbeat as I neared the Eli Bates Fountain.
Strolling around the curving path, I glimpsed the beautiful fountain. Glossy black marble surrounded the bubbling water. Two bronze mermen rose from the middle, their arms wrapping around jumping fish.
Val hunched on a nearby bench with a surly expression, staring down at his phone. His dark hair looked curlier than usual, like the humidity in the air had settled into the coils. He was clean shaven and wore a pair of perfectly tailored jeans. Igroaned at the pretentious short-sleeved white button-up hugging his biceps.
