“I know everything. It’s the power that I have.”
“My mom’s name is James. She did a lot of her art under the James name, so I changed it so I didn’t have to be compared to her.” Not that she minded being compared. It was all about her pesky independence.
“Huh, you are one stubborn woman. No help from parents, friends, family, no boyfriend, and you’re determined to make it on your own. Quite a hard combination to help.”
She sighed. “I feel like I should be saying sorry.”
“Nah. Not sorry. I’ve known several … stubborn people. You’re not the first, and I’ll help.”
Kim pressed her lips together. She didn’t ask for his help, but she also didn’t want to leave either. The house, the grounds; what she’d seen, she loved. Also, she had … missed him. How weird was that? She had missed the guy who used to bully her, which sucked. Toward the end of high school, he’d become a really nice, loving, caring kind of guy. She missed that with him. Even though it was hard for her to relax around him, after some time, she’d find herself laughing at his jokes, his stupidity. He was a fun person.
She hadn’t had a lot of fun in a long time.
Stubbornness is going to hurt you.
“Your paintings should be delivered tomorrow, and I’ve got several rooms set up for them. Would you like to see your art room?” he asked.
“Yes, please.” She quickly grabbed her two art bags and turned toward him.
“I’ll take those.” He lifted them onto his shoulders as if they didn’t weigh a ton, and she knew they did. They were really heavy. Even she found them hard to lift. She wouldn’t leave anywhere without at least one that was filled with her sketchpad.
“I don’t mind carrying one.”
“I’m sure you don’t. I can manage this, sweetie.”
“Sweetie?” she asked, walking beside him.
“Term of endearment. You never heard of it?”
“I’ve never been called it.”
“Get used to it. It’s a … thing I do.”
“Okay, darling.”
“Be careful, pooch, I’ll expect it all the time.”
“Sure thing, babe!” Kim found herself laughing.
“Good, love.”
“Honey.”
“Sweetness.”
“Hot pants.”
“Sexy.”
Kim blushed and stopped playing along.
“I won,” he said.
“Hey, you went dirty.”
“You could have as well. I’ve got a nice long cock.”
“Kurt!”
“What? Just letting you know. Advertising what I’ve got packing.”
She looked around the house, catching glimpses of the hominess of it. This wasn’t a bachelor pad. It felt like a home. “I don’t need to know what you’re packing.”
“Fine. I also know how to use it. I can give multiple orgasms with my dick, and my tongue.”
“This is sexual harassment.”
“Your work is not even here yet. Besides, we’re old friends bantering with each other. You know I wouldn’t hurt you. My hands are on myself until you beg.”
She shook her head and couldn’t help smiling. He was so charming and sweet. For the first time in over five years, she felt happy.
They walked past the dining room, library, study, kitchen, toward the back of the house that overlooked the garden. Kurt opened a door, and she stepped into heaven. The room was completely plain. The walls themselves looked like a canvas with several lights hanging down so when it got dark, she could choose her own lighting. The windows were large, and nothing masked her view of the outside, which, as it was summer, was stunning in color.
She spotted several easels, boxes, and a large storage cupboard at the end.
“I got everything so you’d know what to do.” Kurt placed the bags down. “Later on, I’ll show you down to your other art room, past the garden near the lake. I believe deer come, so it’s something to look forward to.”
“Wait, I have two rooms like this?”
“Yes. I understand as an artist, you find inspiration everywhere, and I wanted to be prepared for all of it.”
Kim couldn’t help it. She ran into his arms, wrapping hers around his neck, and holding onto him tightly.
“Thank you so much.”
“If I knew it just took a couple of art rooms to get a hug, I’d have purchased them years ago.”
She giggled.
“I’m serious. What does it take for a kiss?”
Kim laughed, pulling away. “Don’t push it. My kisses are sacred.”
“Have you ever been kissed?”
“Sure.” She hadn’t, not on the lips. Whenever a guy had gone to kiss her after a date, she panicked, and turned so that he grazed her cheek.
“You’ve not been kissed.”
“I totally have.”
“Prove it, kiss me.”
She frowned. “How is that supposed to prove anything?”
“If you’ve kissed guys before, it shouldn’t scare you.”
“That makes absolutely no sense.”
“Then don’t kiss me. You’re afraid.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“Then kiss me.”
“No. I’m not going to be pressured into kissing you.” She was chuckling, finding his teasing endearing.
“Chicken.”
“Whatever.”
“Chicken.” He then started to cluck like a chicken.
“Fine!” She stormed up toward him, went on her tiptoes, and slammed her lips against his. The kiss took her completely by surprise. His lips were a little firmer than she imagined. Closing her eyes, she ran her hands up his chest. Part of her was prepared to push him away, yet her hands kept on moving up. She locked her hands around the back of his neck, putting her body flush against his.