Page 38 of Finding New Dreams

Caught, I quirked an eyebrow at her. “Even when it comes to—oh, I don’t know, maybe the handsome town sheriff?”

She flushed, something I’d seen her do maybe twice since knowing her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She started backing away. “By the way, you have paint on your temple. Something to do with your friend, I’ll bet.”

As my fingers searched frantically for the spot, she walked away, crowing with laughter. When I found it, I flopped my hair over it in case anyone else saw.

But no one else was looking at me, including Flynn. So I sat on a park bench in front of my gallery to do something before I lost my nerve. Which I probably would if I went inside and got sucked back under Flynn’s charming spell.

I pulled out my phone and opened my dating app. I hadn’t been on it much since Friday, so I took a few minutes to scroll through messages and matches.

After weeding out the worst, I set up a date with Albert F. for Friday night at an Italian restaurant in St. Paul. I also saved a couple of matches to take a closer look at later, in the privacy of my apartment.

There. Now I was officially back on the dating path.

I will find someone. Just have to keep going.

Maybe this next date wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe it’d be amazing, and Albert F. would be the perfect Mr. Rose Rafferty.

Or maybe it would be terrible. And if it was, I knew exactly whose arms I’d want to run into. Again.

But I’d fallen for a guy like Flynn before. I refused to do it again.

11

FLYNN

Two days, two more blank canvases.

I ducked most of Ozzy’s calls now, which made him all the more anxious. His texts pinged with increasing frequency and with more caps and exclamation points.

I could have texted him back and said everything was fine and that I was still working on it. But I knew he could sense my bullshit leaking through the phone.

I’d been getting to Rose’s studio early in the morning to do my sitting and staring, silently harassing my nonexistent muse. The rest of Rose’s art, including the canvas we’d messed around on together, had been removed.

Just me, a blank canvas, and untouched paints.

By the time Rose came down to the studio, I had the evidence of my failure all cleaned up and put away. I didn’t want to repeat Tuesday morning, especially not the Chloe-barging-in part.

That night, after Chloe had gotten home, I’d checked in with her and apologized on my own behalf for the messy situation. She’d given me a long look then patted my arm and said not to worry about it. We were fine.

Not wanting to push my luck, I’d taken that to heart, and other than being slightly more helpful around the house, I’d stayed out of her way.

Rose, on the other hand, had been her usual sweet, cheerful self while we worked in the gallery. I’d adopted the same attitude but couldn’t help feeling like some sort of wall had gone up between us, smothering that spark of flirtation.

But I liked that damn spark. I missed it.

So when she sent me a text last night, telling me to skip the studio in the morning and come out kayaking with her instead, my fingers couldn’t type out “yes” fast enough.

Ozzy would probably shit bricks if he knew, but it wasn’t like I was making progress anyway.

Friday morning, I got up much earlier than usual. Earlier than I’d gotten up in years, honestly. After putting on a pot of coffee—having beat Chloe to it for once—I took a quick shower and dressed in a t-shirt and shorts. I raked the top of my hair into a ponytail and slipped on a pair of sandals, planning to go barefoot as soon as we got to the water.

Chloe grunted her appreciation as she poured herself some coffee, and Hunter gave me a nod as he headed out for his morning walk with Arwen.

I ate a few pieces of toast and a handful of almonds for breakfast. I opened my mouth to tell Chloe where I was going, then closed it again.

Maybe this was better kept to myself.

After packing a few snacks and a water bottle in a small backpack, I headed over to Rose’s.

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