“Ah.”
“Might I ask who the artist of all these paintings is? A beautiful woman like yourself does not seem to be the type of tortured soul to emote the way these brushstrokes do,” he said.
“No, I cannot claim the beauty of these paintings. The artist’s name is John McBride. Posthumous,” I said.
“Such a shame when an artist’s work cannot fully be devoured until his passing.”
“It is a shame, but it is also a way to honor his life. That is what this is, an honoring of a soul that wanted nothing more than to bring his own version of beauty into the world,” I sai
d.
“Now that sounds like the beauty of your own soul, Miss Ryan.”
I saw Bryan look over out of the corner of my eye as he quickly pushed his way through the crowd.
“Keep my card,” he said as he stood at the counter. “I will soon be in touch.”
“Might I ask why?”
But before I could get the question off my lips, Bryan’s arm was around me while Ramon was turning his back toward me.
“Who was that?” Bryan asked.
“Ramon Escalante. He’s an art dealer. Wanted me to hang onto his information,” I said.
“He wanting to sell you paintings or something?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. Art dealers aren’t usually sellers. Their curators of a specific kind of art they attempt to sell to others. You think he might want to become an expert on my art?” I asked.
“As long as he doesn’t want to become an expert on you, I’m good.”
I smiled up at him before I rose onto my tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
“Feel better?” I asked, grinning.
“A little. But I can’t believe so many people turned out to see my brother’s artwork. It’s selling faster than I can keep it on the walls.”
“People are touched by his art. I knew they would be. John was a beautiful soul, and it helped me make a couple new connections today.”
“What else happened?” he asked.
“Well, I’ve now got a permanent in with Jennifer in her column to advertise more galleries as I throw them. Plus, a couple of other reporters are really jotting down notes. I think that could turn into something, too. Plus, there’s Ramon.”
“Ramon?” he asked.
“The art dealer.”
“So, we’re on a first-name basis with him now?”
“You aren’t. I am,” I said, winking.
I could see the jealousy rising up Bryan’s neck, and it was a bit sexy. I’d never done anything to make him jealous before, and I felt his grip around my waist tightening with every second that passed by.
But then, a familiar voice rose above the crowd that shook both of us from our thoughts.
“Bryan. Hailey.”
“Drew!”