Every Day (Brush of Love 2)

I could feel his face burying into the crook of my neck while I comforted him in the middle of my studio.

“If it’s any consolation, I adore your aesthetic and your style.”

“You do?” he asked.

“I do, and if you give it enough time, and you want to keep showcasing your artwork here, I’m sure others will, too. Your business cards with your website and your address are flying off my counter faster than I can keep them restocked. Get some more to me, and I’ll keep them up as well.”

“Thanks,” he said as he released me.

“Max, I’m serious. You have to give it time.”

“I’ve been here for two years. You’ve been here less than two months,” he said.

“But I traveled for years. I’ve been everywhere. Phoenix. Denver. The twin cities. Seattle. Los Angeles.”

I had to close my eyes and draw in a deep breath to keep myself steady during this conversation.

“The point is, many of those cities didn’t enjoy my artwork. The twin cities were merciless, and I had to take on a part-time job just to keep myself afloat in Denver. If worst comes to worst, maybe the city isn’t right for you. I failed on many occasions. Some failures were much bigger than others and cost me more than I even care to admit.”

“I’m sorry for all you’ve suffered,” he said.

“I never said anything about suffering,” I said, snickering.

“You didn’t, but your eyes did.”

I looked up at him and felt his hand graze my cheek. I studied him intently, allowing his smooth voice to sink into my ears. His thumb stroked my cheek gently, rising up within me a blush I couldn’t control. For an instant, I thought I saw the faintest smile cross his cheek before he dropped his hand and cleared his throat.

“I adore San Diego. For all the failure of my own artistic pursuits, it’s been kind to me in other ways. I’m not ready to give up on it yet.”

“Then don’t. Give it time. People will come around. I’m sure of it.”

“Could I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” I said.

“You have a wonderful storage shed out back. I noticed it the last time I came. I had to park all the way out there to find a place to put my car.”

“Then you probably came at lunchtime,” I said, grinning.

“Is it always that busy around here at lunchtime?” he asked.

“It’s coming to be that way, yes. I’m sorry I missed you. When did you come?”

“It was a couple weeks ago. Not a big deal. I only came by to see if my paintings were still on the wall or not.”

“Well, the next time you come in, track me down. You’re starting to become a nice sight for sore eyes,” I said.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, smiling.

“Ah, there’s that smile. All right. What about my storage shed? You curious as to where I got it? Because if you are, you’re out of luck. It was here when I purchased the building.”

“Actually, no. What do you keep in there?” he asked.

“Paintings, mostly.”

“Paintings you’ll eventually showcase?”

“Not really,” I said. “They’re from an artist who passed away.”