Page 28 of Finding New Dreams

“Okay, everyone!” I called out. “Let’s get started. Everyone settled?”

People murmured affirmatively, most eyes on me, a few still on Flynn.

“Everyone got a glass of delicious wine?” I lifted mine for emphasis and took a sip.

People smiled and raised their own glasses.

“Excellent,” I said, setting down my wine. “Welcome to paint night here at Exquisite Moments. I’m Rose Rafferty, as many of you already know. And this is Flynn Higgins, my assistant.” I gestured to him, and he gave a little bow. “Flynn will be walking around in case any of you have questions or need help. I will be up here, giving you my best Bob Ross impression.”

Laughter rippled through the air, including Flynn’s.

Smiling wider now, I started painting and talking. And the magical thing was—my nerves just sort of floated away and dissolved like the paint from my brush in my water cup.

I’d decided on a simple watercolor scene of a camping tent by the river. Large pine trees swept over the cerulean sky, and the river flowed in blues, greens, and browns.

I talked about the colors and strokes I used and the layering I’d practiced over and over. I talked about Tangled River itself, and the funny story of the camping trip that had inspired this painting. Gina and Sarah hooted along with my retelling of the three of us plus Chloe, and the night we camped near a family of squirrels who’d been masters of spookery. They’d thrown nuts on and around our tent until it sounded like a whole forest of creepy creatures was stalking us. We’d all ended up sleeping in Chloe’s little car.

Still giggling, I almost knocked over my canvas when a deep voice rumbled in my ear, “I would’ve paid money to be in that tent with you.”

My heartbeat roared in my ears as I faced Flynn. “Or you would’ve joined forces with the squirrels.”

His grin did nothing to slow my heart rate. “Only to have a pretty girl run into my arms for safety.”

I tried to snort, but it came out more as a sigh. Sadly, I could picture throwing myself into his arms.

Shaking my head, I changed the subject. “How’s it going?” I asked quietly, nodding to my students who were happily painting away and chatting with their friends.

“Perfectly.” He brushed past me to stand in front of my canvas, his lips quirking into a frown as he studied it. “You’re really good at this, Rose. Both the teaching and the painting.”

“It’s just a simple piece,” I said quickly, ready to leap out of my skin if he stared at my painting for much longer. “I’m sure you’ve seen—and done—much better.”

He rolled his shoulders as if trying to shed an uncomfortable weight. “Better is subjective. This…this is something else.” He brought his face so close to it, he almost painted his nose brown. “There,” he said, pointing at a slightly squiggled brush stroke. “Right there is where you laughed, telling us about Sarah brandishing her pocketknife while you guys ran for it.”

I blinked. Was he trying to point out a mistake? And how on earth did he know that? Had he been watching me that closely? My emotions tangled in a heated web.

Before I could figure out something to say, he pulled back and gave me the softest smile. “That’s the best brush stroke I’ve ever seen. I could never create something like that.”

My whole body felt feverish. Everything was a contradiction. “Of course you could create something like that, Flynn. How about I grab you some supplies too? You’ve been working so hard—I didn’t even stop to think you might want to paint as well.”

I was mid-flight when he gently grabbed my wrist, shaking his head.

“No, thank you, Rose. I’m here to assist. And happy to watch.”

“Really, though, it’s no trouble. It’ll take two minutes and I’m sure—”

“No.” His voice pitched an octave lower, a finality to it bordering on command.

I froze.

His eyes darted to the side as if to make sure no one had heard him.

The hum of conversation hadn’t paused, but he continued in a whisper. “I’m sorry. I can’t, Rose. Please don’t ask me to.”

Dropping my wrist like he’d been burned, he strode to the tables furthest back.

I watched him go, confused and torn. There’d been no mistaking the bitterness and frustration in his voice. My heart broke a little at the thought of being unable to simply pick up a brush and paint. Why did he think that?

Too late, I noticed Gina and Sarah watching me watch him. Thankfully, they were the only two, but Gina’s sly grin and Sarah’s narrowed eyes told me they’d missed nothing of our interlude. Damn it, I really needed to tell Chloe what was going on before she got wind of it from these two.

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