scratched her legs as Evie tugged on jeans. She pulled on a snug, white tee shirt, slipped into a pair of flip-flops, and glared at her sack-covered art. With a few slow-paced breaths, she summoned the courage to grab the canvas.
The stairwell looked different somehow as she trudged her way up, like a foreign pathway that would magically lead her to Calvin Knight. After stepping onto the side patio, Evie yanked off the bag that covered the canvas and tossed it into the trash.
“So how should we do this?” she asked, rounding the corner.
Looking beautifully out of place on the old porch swing, Calvin ran a hand through his hair, tossing the chestnut colored strands into reckless perfection. He met her gaze beneath a handsome set of dark brows. “Mine’s in the car. I can go grab it now, or we can start on yours if you want.”
Another slowly paced breath came and went. “May as well get mine over with, I guess.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the next. They’d sat beside one another on the bench out front just a few weeks ago, watching the sunset. So why was it so hard for her to take the spot next to him then? She eyed one of the lawn chairs across from the swing.
“Here, I won’t bite.” Calvin patted the spot next to him, flashing a devilish grin. “Again.”
How did he manage to look so entirely innocent and wonderfully guilty all at once? She shuffled her way toward him, holding the canvas to her chest, and lowered herself into the seat.
She glanced at him tentatively. “Okay, I have to tell you that, sharing this,” she rubbed her palm over the back of her neck, which felt hot and agitated, “it’s not an easy thing for me. I mean, I’m really nervous about it.”
He smiled at her. “Don’t be. It’s just me.”
Just him? He’d said that before, only the words just and him– as in Calvin Knight–didn’t belong in the same sentence. She lifted her chin to pull the board away from her chest.
“Here. We can prop it on this.” Calvin pulled a lawn chair over and propped the piece on the back of the seat. “Whoa, this is really nice, Evie.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “There’s a lot of emotion in this,” he said.
She eyed the painting too, dying to know what he really thought of it.
“You’ve used acrylic paint. What I notice first is this birthday cake.” He paused, running a loose hand over the canvas while he mumbled. “Seven, eight, nine lit candles. Should be a happy occasion, but that’s not the tone of the piece. Because what stands out even more than the cake, at the other end of this long table, is an empty chair. Someone’s missing.” He glanced at her, a hint of sadness in his brown eyes. “I like the grey wash you put over the image. It really creates a contrasting tone to the bright candles and the leaves and flowers on the cake.”
When Evie noticed her hand was shaking, she grabbed her thumb ring and began spinning it, wondering if Calvin would see the last detail–the one that had taken hours to get right.
“There’s something reflected here, on this glass,” he said.
Her shoulders stiffened as Calvin leaned toward the canvas, appraising the art.
“It’s the girl sitting up to the cake–I can see her reflection through the cup. Only, I just see the outline of her.” Leaning closer still, he continued, “I see hints of hair in pig-tails, the shape of her shoulders and arms, but I can also see this, uh … it’s a china cabinet behind her. Through her.”
The tense pressure gripping Evie’s shoulders eased a notch. She pulled her lip between her teeth, keeping quiet as he looked over it some more.
“You did an amazing job on this piece. I’m not even sure I could’ve mastered that reflection the way you did.”
She grimaced. “I’m sure you could have done way better, of course.”
He glanced at her. “Are you going to tell me about your inspiration?” There was an unassuming look about him–as if he
The stairwell looked different somehow as she trudged her way up, like a foreign pathway that would magically lead her to Calvin Knight. After stepping onto the side patio, Evie yanked off the bag that covered the canvas and tossed it into the trash.
“So how should we do this?” she asked, rounding the corner.
Looking beautifully out of place on the old porch swing, Calvin ran a hand through his hair, tossing the chestnut colored strands into reckless perfection. He met her gaze beneath a handsome set of dark brows. “Mine’s in the car. I can go grab it now, or we can start on yours if you want.”
Another slowly paced breath came and went. “May as well get mine over with, I guess.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the next. They’d sat beside one another on the bench out front just a few weeks ago, watching the sunset. So why was it so hard for her to take the spot next to him then? She eyed one of the lawn chairs across from the swing.
“Here, I won’t bite.” Calvin patted the spot next to him, flashing a devilish grin. “Again.”
How did he manage to look so entirely innocent and wonderfully guilty all at once? She shuffled her way toward him, holding the canvas to her chest, and lowered herself into the seat.
She glanced at him tentatively. “Okay, I have to tell you that, sharing this,” she rubbed her palm over the back of her neck, which felt hot and agitated, “it’s not an easy thing for me. I mean, I’m really nervous about it.”
He smiled at her. “Don’t be. It’s just me.”
Just him? He’d said that before, only the words just and him– as in Calvin Knight–didn’t belong in the same sentence. She lifted her chin to pull the board away from her chest.
“Here. We can prop it on this.” Calvin pulled a lawn chair over and propped the piece on the back of the seat. “Whoa, this is really nice, Evie.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “There’s a lot of emotion in this,” he said.
She eyed the painting too, dying to know what he really thought of it.
“You’ve used acrylic paint. What I notice first is this birthday cake.” He paused, running a loose hand over the canvas while he mumbled. “Seven, eight, nine lit candles. Should be a happy occasion, but that’s not the tone of the piece. Because what stands out even more than the cake, at the other end of this long table, is an empty chair. Someone’s missing.” He glanced at her, a hint of sadness in his brown eyes. “I like the grey wash you put over the image. It really creates a contrasting tone to the bright candles and the leaves and flowers on the cake.”
When Evie noticed her hand was shaking, she grabbed her thumb ring and began spinning it, wondering if Calvin would see the last detail–the one that had taken hours to get right.
“There’s something reflected here, on this glass,” he said.
Her shoulders stiffened as Calvin leaned toward the canvas, appraising the art.
“It’s the girl sitting up to the cake–I can see her reflection through the cup. Only, I just see the outline of her.” Leaning closer still, he continued, “I see hints of hair in pig-tails, the shape of her shoulders and arms, but I can also see this, uh … it’s a china cabinet behind her. Through her.”
The tense pressure gripping Evie’s shoulders eased a notch. She pulled her lip between her teeth, keeping quiet as he looked over it some more.
“You did an amazing job on this piece. I’m not even sure I could’ve mastered that reflection the way you did.”
She grimaced. “I’m sure you could have done way better, of course.”
He glanced at her. “Are you going to tell me about your inspiration?” There was an unassuming look about him–as if he
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