Page 9 of Painting Celia

Celia looked up solemnly. “I almost killed a man, Trevor.”

He laughed. “I heard.”

Andrew threw an arm around León’s neck, hauling him into the circle. “He looks fine to me.”

León grinned. He wasn’t so intimidating next to Andrew.

“Trevor knows of an apartment,” Andrew said as he released León. “Want to drive over? You can talk galleries on the way.”

“Hell yes!” León said. “Let me grab my stuff.” He galloped inside.

“You want to come, Celia?” Trevor asked. She shook her head. “Tired from talking with someone new?”

This time she nodded. “He looks at me. A lot. It’s hard to say things when he’s staring.”

“In a creepy way?” Trevor asked, frowning.

“No, just…focused.”

“León’s a visual guy,” Andrew said. “If he’s actually leering, I’ll smack him.”

What more could she ask for?

“I could have spent the night here too,” Andrew said, straight-faced.

“You didn’t offer,” Celia said, mildly.

Hoodie in hand, León swept outside. “Let’s go! That clock is ticking!” He stopped still as all three turned to face him, then actually bounced on the balls of his feet. “But!” he said. “But! Here’s the thing. I need to be back here before sunset. Celia’s letting me paint her view.”

The three men all turned to face Celia. She’d just explained that it was hard when people looked…oh, let them work it out. She schooled her face, wiping away all expression. León’s face soured.

“So, I’m driving León’s gear up here?” Andrew asked, holding out a hand to Celia. “I’ll keep you company while he paints.”

She reached to touch his fingers briefly. He’d be inviting everyone else next.

“It’s just the easel,” León said, pulling on his hoodie. He was going to get hot in that.

“And paint, and brushes, and probably lots more,” Trevor grinned.

Andrew rubbed a light sheen from his smooth bronzed head. “Are there ribs left from last night?”

“Not many. I was going to put them in chili. Do you want that?”

“Yes!” Andrew rubbed his hands together happily. “I get dinner and my living room back!” He looked around at her pool house. “Any chance we can leave the easel in there until León gets his own place?”

Celia looked at the small glass-walled building. There was plenty of room inside. Space, she had.

“You could use it yourself to paint when León’s not up here,” Andrew added, sweetening the deal.

“No, she can’t!” León said.

“I have my own!” Celia said at the same time.

León met her eyes over their shared outburst.

“You paint?” he asked, his eyes doing that searching thing again.

Face blank!

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