Misunderstandings (Woodfalls Girls 2)

“I’m so glad I asked you here tonight to lend some moral support,” Justin said dryly.

“Dude, I’ve got your back on your art, but the bad-boy status is a no-go,” Rob said, slinging an arm around Melissa’s shoulders. “So, let’s show these ladies your kick-ass artwork,” he added, leading Melissa into the main room of the building.

“You game?” Justin asked me, nodding toward the room.

“Sure, let’s see what you got,” I said, following along, but not sure what to expect. Maybe something abstract, like art created from metal or maybe beer bottles. Stepping through the doorway, though, I was completely caught off-guard at what I saw. The art on display in front of me stopped me in my tracks.

“What do you think?” Justin asked, turning to look back at me.

I couldn’t speak as I took in the pieces scattered throughout the room. I wasn’t even sure if beautiful was the right word to describe his art. It deserved a word with more impact, like breathtaking, even though that didn’t seem quite sufficient either. They literally took my breath away. He didn’t use the typical canvas to make his mark. Instead, he used huge slabs of distressed wood that were easily six feet across and five feet high. Each piece of wood was different in shape, but there was no mistaking that every one belonged to him. He didn’t do the cutesy landscapes or abstract art that left you scratching your head in confusion. I guess an ignorant person would call what he did portrait art, but to call it that was almost an insult. Each piece depicted a different face. Some were young, while others were older. There was an equal mixture of women and men of all races. Each one was beautiful beyond words. Instead of covering the wood with paint, he had used the paint to enhance the natural coloring in all the different types of woods he used. It was as if he had stamped an image on each piece.

“Insane, right?” Melissa squealed, joining me. I hushed her, not wanting to spoil the mood with mindless chatter.

“So come on. What do you think?” Justin asked earnestly as Melissa melted away into the background. I took a moment to answer as I studied the painting of the elderly woman in front of me. The attention to detail blew my mind as I took in every wrinkle and crease on her face.

“They’re amazing. You’re going to be famous,” I breathed, finally able to speak.

“Did hell just freeze over, or did you just give me a compliment?” he asked, winking at me as he reached for my hand with excitement. “There’s hope for us yet.”

“Hope? That’s an awfully strong word to use,” I said, looking down at our linked hands. “I’m not going out on a date with you, even if you’re not a typical bad boy,” I added, pulling my hand from his. I tried not to think about how warm and inviting it had felt wrapped around my fingers or whether every part of him was equally warm.

“Give me one good reason why not,” he coaxed.

“I’ll give you two. One, you’re a terrible flirt,” I said, holding up a finger.

“Hey, I think my flirting skills are top-notch,” he interrupted, deliberately being dense.

“Exactly, you’d flirt with anything that has a pair of tits.”

“Not true. I’ve never hit on a cow,” he teased.

“Only because there aren’t a whole lot of cows walking around the Seattle area,” I pointed out.

“I think you’re exaggerating the flirting, but that’s a doable fix. What’s reason number two?”

“I don’t date smokers. Ever.”

“Again, easy fix,” he bragged.

“How so?”

“I’m not really a smoker. I enjoy an occasional cigarette, but that’s about all.”

“I don’t date people in denial who only smoke occasionally,” I stated skeptically.

“No, I’m serious. I bet I smoke a cigarette a week, if that.”

“Even one a week is a deal breaker for me. I hate the smell and the smoke.”

“Done. I won’t smoke while we’re dating.”

“Who said anything about dating? We were talking about one date,” I squawked, wondering how he’d gained the upper hand. I wasn’t sure how I felt about his persistence.

“Fine. Go out with me once. If you hate it, no harm, no foul.”

“I can’t go out with you. I don’t even like you,” I said, less convincingly than I had the last time I’d seen him.

“Sure you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here,” he said confidently. “Come on, one date.”