Every Night (Brush of Love 1)

“I agree. I completely, one hundred percent agree to your terms,” she said.

There was a voice in the back of my head that told me this wasn’t a good idea. Nothing was ever this perfect. Nothing was ever this kind. I was too busy with my business to be distracted by a woman whose magnetic field attracted chaos and whate

ver else it was that caused the fear to spark behind her eyes.

The slight fear every time she looked at me.

It wasn’t going to be wise to spend a lot of time with this woman. But as we got up from the ground and shook hands on the deal, I found myself calling up Drew to let him know I was taking on another project.

I hoped that nagging voice was wrong, and I wasn’t getting myself into something that would bite me later.

Chapter 8

Hailey

I dropped onto my couch after shutting the door of my studio apartment. I didn’t care that I was covered in sweat, and I didn’t care that my clothes smelled like a workhorse. I was exhausted from moving, organizing, and cleaning, and all I wanted to do was rest. I couldn’t wait for construction to begin on my gallery. I’d called my sister right after Bryan had left that day, telling her what had just happened and the deal I had been cut. Of course, she went into protective mode and did some digging into B.D. Construction, but all she found was reputable, reliable material along with rave reviews from people who lived in the residential homes they built.

“It’s interesting,” she had said. “They don’t really delve into commercial properties.”

“Maybe they’re branching out?” I had asked.

“Just make sure he sticks to his end of the bargain. Get it in writing, get it signed, and get it to me.”

So, that’s exactly what I’d done. Bryan had come by a few days later with the official paperwork, and I looked for all the key pieces of information my sister told me to look out for. On the payment line, it said “fifty thousand dollars plus up to five pieces of artwork of the contractor’s choosing,” and it had a finished date of anywhere between July and August. I was happy with what I saw, so I signed, then I sent off a copy for my sister to look over.

She was very pleased with what she saw, which made me all the more excited about the days to come.

I was ecstatic that I’d hired someone who saw the potential I did. I’d gotten to know him a bit and was absolutely giddy with excitement when he told me his terms. He had a passion to help the community like I did, and that was the sign I needed to know I was hiring the right person for the job. He not only understood my community outreach spirit, but he engaged in it himself, and I was more than honored for my art gallery to be part of his portfolio.

Anything to help a business that held the same values mine would.

But still, that stab of guilt was there kicking me in the kidney. I wasn’t being completely honest with him. I’d lied to him about being at that memorial service, and I’d kept my mouth shut on the painting he had held. I could see it in his eyes, how drawn to it he had become. When he requested that one of the paintings I give him be that one, it didn’t shock me in the slightest.

But it did have me very, very worried.

I’d have to tell him before I handed those paintings over. I’d have to tell him about what had happened in Los Angeles all those years ago.

A shiver ran down my spine as I thought about how that conversation might go.

But even still, the art I had stowed away deserved to see the light of day. It needed to reach the masses. All of them. All of the art therapy students I’d taken on, the ones who had passed before their time and the ones who had given in to the darkness and couldn’t claw their way back and the spirit of the people who inspired the track my art now took. It all deserved to bask in the glory of the beauty of this earth.

It deserved to create its own pocket of peace.

I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath. My mind automatically drifted back to his tattoos. The more he was around, the more I got a better look at them. The 3-D spiral pattern looked as if it descending into his arm. The shaded geometric pattern still mesmerized me to this day. I finally got a better look at that rose on his arm during our meeting, and I realized the rose petals weren’t rose petals at all but a piano keyboard shaped to the outline of rose petals.

I wanted to ask him where his inspiration for that one came from. Maybe he played piano or his parents had. Maybe he was just a fan of music.

Maybe John had even played.

Those tattoos sat on a bed of muscles that no one could deny. While my eyes were always grazing up and down his tattoos, fascinated with his ability to choose and be happy with them for the rest of his life, I had to admit his arms were incredibly defined. They rippled and flexed with every movement they made. He definitely worked more on his job sites than he’d let on in our meeting. I could see his broad shoulders, the muscle mounds lightly rising over his collarbone before they blended into his strong, thick neck.

I could still feel his broad, solid chest against mine as I reveled in how warm his body had been when I hugged him.

My cell phone ringing interrupted my thoughts. I’d been biting my lower lip even though I hadn’t been aware of it, and I cleared my throat as I reached for my phone. Anna was calling. Probably wondering if construction had begun yet. I took a deep breath and tried to clear the lust from my voice before I answered the phone.

The last thing she needed to know was how incredibly handsome the leader of this project was.

“Hey there, sis,” I said.