Page 122 of Finding New Dreams

I ducked out of a mind-numbing conversation with a man who owned five yachts and had just married his fourth wife. Snagging a pitifully small finger sandwich from a passing platter, I huddled next to a tall plant in a corner of the gallery for a moment of peace.

My hiding place had an excellent vantage point of my second painting, though. People wove in and out of my line of sight, except one—a lone figure who stood still, like a tree in a river, in front of my painting.

She was short and slight with black hair. Silver bangles on her wrist. A glittery fuchsia mini dress that flared into a ruffled skirt—perfect for twirling.

My heart tripped. My vision tunneled.

It couldn’t be her. I’d never given her the details. Why would she be here? I hadn’t planned on it. I’d imagined going back to Tangled River and walking into her gallery. She’d look up in surprise and—

My feet carried me toward her without another thought. I bumped into people. Stumbled a few times. But kept going until I was next to her.

“Rose,” I breathed.

She faced me, and I nearly lost all control seeing her smile. “Flynn. This must be the mystery painting mentioned in the brochure?” She waved the glossy printout Ozzy had made.

“Yeah. Sorry, what are you doing here?”

Her fingers toyed with the brochure. “I came to see your showcase. I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh.” Disappointment and happiness played tug of war in my chest. I raked my hand through my hair. “Wow, I really appreciate it, but you didn’t have to. Where are you staying? Did you come alone? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

She laughed. “Easy there. You’re starting to sound like your sister. I just flew in, so I don’t have a place to stay yet. I came alone.” She bit her lip. “I didn’t tell you because I wanted it to be a surprise. And it was kind of a last-minute decision.”

My hands lifted to pull her into my arms, but I wasn’t sure if she wanted that, so I curled my hands into fists and pressed them to my sides.

But then she rose on her toes and kissed my cheek.

Before I could do much more than blink, she’d turned back to my sunrise painting. “It really is beautiful. This is Tangled River, right? The square?”

“Yes,” I said in a strangled voice.

“You have such a gift with colors. They feel so real. I can almost feel the happiness and excitement you felt here. Who’s on the bench?”

I swallowed hard. “You.”

Her head whipped around. “Me?” She studied it closer. “Was this the morning we went kayaking?”

I nodded.

“Oh.” She took a step back. “Oh. And what’s the title? I couldn’t really read it.”

Taking a deep breath, I waited until she looked at me before I answered, “My New Dream.”

Her gaze darted between me and the painting, over and over as if her eyes were trying to piece together the meaning of everything. “Flynn, I—”

“There you are!” Ozzy slapped me on the back. “I know you have a flight in a few hours, but remember, you agreed to—”

“Not now!” I barked at him.

I grabbed Rose’s hand in mine and practically ran with her out of the gallery and into a deserted hallway.

Gently, I pressed her against the wall. “I can explain, Rose. I was going to give you a big speech. I was going to lay it all out in private—”

She held her hand up. “A flight? Where are you going?”

“Home. Tangled River.”

“W-why? Why am I in your painting? Why did you call it My New Dream?”

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