Almost Perfect by Julie Ortolon
Authors: Julie Ortolon
Tags: Humor, Romance, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, series, Military, Romantic Comedy, Contemporary Fiction, Contemporary Women, Women's Fiction, Single Women, Domestic Life
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to the server. "It's just not as highbrow as the galleries on Canyon Road. Besides, you don't have to say yes to the first offer you get, but having one gallery interested will give you more clout with the others."
"True." She took a deep breath. "Okay. You're on."
----
Chapter 8
The only way to conquer fear is to face it.
— How to Have a Perfect Life
Outside of Old Town, Santa Fe resembled any other growing town across America. The strip centers offered the same hardware stores, discount chains, mega bookstores, and fast-food restaurants. Except that here all the buildings maintained the "Santa Fe look" to meet building codes, and the urban sprawl ranged between pine-covered mountains and sage-dotted desert.
Maddy frowned as Joe turned off one of the main roads into a light industrial area. Even here, the metal buildings had adobe facades. Her frown deepened when he pulled into the parking lot of what looked like a warehouse. "Is this it?"
"Yep," he confirmed, parking in the shade of a tree in the far corner of the crowded lot.
Maddy twisted in her seat to study the place. "I thought you said it was small."
"The gallery only takes up a small portion in the front."
"What's in the back?"
"Hmm… frame shop and storage?"
Something in his voice made her study him. He wore a highly suspect look of innocence. "This is a reputable gallery, right?"
"Absolutely."
She looked back at the building. The sign above the covered porch read IMAGES OF THE WEST. That tickled some memory, but she dismissed it. With a name that generic, of course it seemed familiar.
"You ready to go in?" Joe asked.
She pulled the portfolio into her lap but made no move to open the door. "Give me a minute to think of what I'll say."
"What's to think about? We'll go in, I'll introduce you to the owner, then you'll take it from there."
"You're right. I don't know why I'm so nervous." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I've been on the other end of this enough times to know what to do. Artists came into the gallery where I worked all the time. Even though we rejected most of them, we were never mean about it."
"Exactly." He reached for the door handle. "Now, let's go in."
"In a minute."
"Maddy…" He sighed impatiently.
"Don't get all exasperated. I know it won't kill me to have them reject my work, but…"
"I know. This is important to you. I understand. Now, let's go."
"It's hugely important." She laid her hand on his bare arm before he could open the door, then pulled it back when he turned. "I don't want to mess up my chances by jumping the gun. My port-folio is okay, but if I wait just a bit, it will be even stronger."
"All right, here's my take." He settled, back against the seat. "You're projecting too far ahead, not concentrating on the task right in front of you. A solid long-term strategy is Mnade up of steps. Today's step is to get past your first jump."
"First jump?" She frowned.
"As in parachuting. The first jump is the scariest. You scream—if not aloud at least inside your head— the whole way down. After that"—he flashed a devilish grin—"the fear becomes part of the thrill."
"You are so warped." She laughed, which helped to loosen the knot in her stomach. "So, was that the scariest thing you did in training? Parachuting?"
He narrowed his eyes. "Are you stalling?"
"Maybe." She grinned unabashedly. "So was it?"
He relented with a sigh. "No. Jumping out of a plane from twelve thousand feet was nothing compared to jumping off the high diving board into the deep end of a swimming pool."
"Why was that scary? You're a good swimmer."
"Not when I'm wearing combat boots, fifty pounds of gear, and I'm carrying a rifle. Add to that the little fact that I was winded from all the P.T. they'd just put us through and blindfolded so I couldn't tell which way was up or down."
"Oh my God!" Her eyes went wide. "Why on earth would they do that to you? And why would you let them?"
"Because I wanted to be a
"True." She took a deep breath. "Okay. You're on."
----
Chapter 8
The only way to conquer fear is to face it.
— How to Have a Perfect Life
Outside of Old Town, Santa Fe resembled any other growing town across America. The strip centers offered the same hardware stores, discount chains, mega bookstores, and fast-food restaurants. Except that here all the buildings maintained the "Santa Fe look" to meet building codes, and the urban sprawl ranged between pine-covered mountains and sage-dotted desert.
Maddy frowned as Joe turned off one of the main roads into a light industrial area. Even here, the metal buildings had adobe facades. Her frown deepened when he pulled into the parking lot of what looked like a warehouse. "Is this it?"
"Yep," he confirmed, parking in the shade of a tree in the far corner of the crowded lot.
Maddy twisted in her seat to study the place. "I thought you said it was small."
"The gallery only takes up a small portion in the front."
"What's in the back?"
"Hmm… frame shop and storage?"
Something in his voice made her study him. He wore a highly suspect look of innocence. "This is a reputable gallery, right?"
"Absolutely."
She looked back at the building. The sign above the covered porch read IMAGES OF THE WEST. That tickled some memory, but she dismissed it. With a name that generic, of course it seemed familiar.
"You ready to go in?" Joe asked.
She pulled the portfolio into her lap but made no move to open the door. "Give me a minute to think of what I'll say."
"What's to think about? We'll go in, I'll introduce you to the owner, then you'll take it from there."
"You're right. I don't know why I'm so nervous." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I've been on the other end of this enough times to know what to do. Artists came into the gallery where I worked all the time. Even though we rejected most of them, we were never mean about it."
"Exactly." He reached for the door handle. "Now, let's go in."
"In a minute."
"Maddy…" He sighed impatiently.
"Don't get all exasperated. I know it won't kill me to have them reject my work, but…"
"I know. This is important to you. I understand. Now, let's go."
"It's hugely important." She laid her hand on his bare arm before he could open the door, then pulled it back when he turned. "I don't want to mess up my chances by jumping the gun. My port-folio is okay, but if I wait just a bit, it will be even stronger."
"All right, here's my take." He settled, back against the seat. "You're projecting too far ahead, not concentrating on the task right in front of you. A solid long-term strategy is Mnade up of steps. Today's step is to get past your first jump."
"First jump?" She frowned.
"As in parachuting. The first jump is the scariest. You scream—if not aloud at least inside your head— the whole way down. After that"—he flashed a devilish grin—"the fear becomes part of the thrill."
"You are so warped." She laughed, which helped to loosen the knot in her stomach. "So, was that the scariest thing you did in training? Parachuting?"
He narrowed his eyes. "Are you stalling?"
"Maybe." She grinned unabashedly. "So was it?"
He relented with a sigh. "No. Jumping out of a plane from twelve thousand feet was nothing compared to jumping off the high diving board into the deep end of a swimming pool."
"Why was that scary? You're a good swimmer."
"Not when I'm wearing combat boots, fifty pounds of gear, and I'm carrying a rifle. Add to that the little fact that I was winded from all the P.T. they'd just put us through and blindfolded so I couldn't tell which way was up or down."
"Oh my God!" Her eyes went wide. "Why on earth would they do that to you? And why would you let them?"
"Because I wanted to be a
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