Page 10 of Painting Celia

Trevor put both hands in his back pockets. “Celia paints, draws, models….”

“It’s her art list,” Andrew said, as though that clarified matters.

Both men were enjoying León’s wide-eyed confusion.

“Fine,” León said. “I’ll bite. What’s an art list?”

Andrew leaned in while Celia clenched her teeth.

“Celia’s learning to make every type of art there is,” Andrew explained. “She’s taken most of the classes at the college by now, right?” He looked at her but didn’t wait for a nod. “I met her when she took my ceramics course.” He counted on his fingers all the different things Celia had tried. “Poetry, woodcarving, architecture, you name it.”

León shook his head, looking like he was waiting for a punchline.

“And she poses,” Trevor added. “That’s how I met her.”

“You cast me off for Kelsey as soon as I introduced you,” Celia said.

“She’s commercial. I need commercial. You’re much better as a life model.”

Okay, it was a little funny to see León’s doubtful eyebrows keep rising. So, he couldn’t see her as someone who posed nude for art classes? Guess he didn’t know everything.

“You?” His glance was frankly unbelieving.

“Yes.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, nodding slightly. “Why the art list?” he finally asked.

Unexpected question! Celia froze, no answer coming to her. León waited, eyes unwavering, and the pressure to speak built unbearably.

“I don’t know,” she finally said.

He grinned. “Bullshit.” And he kept waiting.

One heartbeat, two. No one had ever asked why.

“I’ll tell you later,” she said.

Wait, she’d said what?

Andrew gave her a pat, then turned to Trevor. “Let’s beat traffic.” They began the walk back to the side gate, and León followed after one last smirk at her.

“Hey!” he called from the edge of the lawn. Celia looked up, wary about his capricious enthusiasm. “That chili, can you leave out the feet?”

Andrew hauled him up by the scruff and hustled him through the gate, closing it behind them.

“Man, quit teasing her! Can’t you see she’s—” Their voices faded.

Finally, a free breath.

She shook out her hands, bent to touch her toes, then looked at the glinting pool. She could swim after she cleaned, exercise away her nervous energy.

Celia gathered the cups and stepped back into her kitchen.

She stopped. One cupboard door was wide open, all of her teacups on show.

León! He was the only one who’d been inside. He’d been snooping! How like a man to sneak a look but forget to close the door behind him.

He pried, he teased, he interrupted. And he stared way too much! What a far cry from her friends, who were polite and gentle with her!

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