Page 60 of Before I Loved You

I lift my glass, mirroring him.

“To a first date with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

I look down for only a moment, blushing. “And to the guy who twisted my arm to do this. Thank you.”

He smiles as our glasses clink. Bringing my glass to my lips, I pretend to take a sip before quickly putting it back on the table.

“So, have you created any new art pieces recently?” He places his glass on the table, leaning forward.

I break off another piece of bread. “I’m trying to. My art professor mentioned that there’s a show in the city during winter break, and she felt I should exhibit some pieces, so I’ve been working on it by painting in the studio on campus. I’m not sure my pieces will be good enough for it or if anyone will even like them, but I—”

“Will you let me see them?”

“I…umm…” Tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, I ask, “You want to?”

“Of course. After seeing the quick sketch you drew, I can only imagine how beautiful one of your paintings would be.”

A small smile pulls at my lips. “Okay.”

His hand reaches for mine, his thumb running across the back, sending a shiver over my entire body.

The rest of the dinner goes by quickly with good food and even better conversation.

It’s like a dream I never want to end.

After Paul signs the bill, he stands, retrieving my coat from the coat check, and takes my hand.

“This was the best date I’ve ever been on. Even if I have nothing to compare it to.” I nudge his shoulder playfully.

“Who said it was over?”

I raise my brows, realizing that he’s not leading us outside toward his car but, instead, down a hallway.

“Where are we going?”

Paul keeps walking ahead, bringing me with him as he pushes open a large door, leading us to a set of stairs.

“After you, baby girl.”

I narrow my eyes at him but continue walking until we get to…

“Is this…an art studio?”

“It is,” he answers, leading us through another door in the corner of the room, which reveals a dark room lit only by twinkling lights outlining the ceiling.

Dropping my hand, he walks toward the corner where two pristine white coveralls hang. He grabs both of them, handing me one to take. “You might want to put this on. I would hate to see that pretty dress get ruined.”

Looking around, I notice giant white canvases standing close together and varieties of bright neon shades of paint all over the room.

“And whose studio is this?”

“A family member’s,” he answers vaguely, already zipping up his jumpsuit.

Removing my heels, I step into the oversized jumpsuit, bunching up my dress to my hips so it doesn’t get caught in the zipper.

“Let me help you.” Paul stands before me, taller beside me without my heels on, and it fucking does something to me.

Goddamn, who knew a man’s height would be my kryptonite?

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