Page 15 of The Small-Town Seduction Plan

“I’ll be going then.”

“Right. Thanks!”

I steer Duke to the front door. He glances at once of the massive splotchy canvases hanging in the hallway, and lets out a low whistle of amusement. “I heard Jacee was on the crazy side, but I’ve never seen it up close.”

I bristle automatically. “She’s not crazy, she’s artistic.”

“You like this stuff?” Duke cocks an eyebrow, looking down at me.

“Sure,” I lie. “It’s… very expressive. And… really conveys a sense of mood… and, um… intention,” I add, grasping for artsy-sounding things to say.

Duke’s smirk grows. “And what, exactly, do you think the artist was intending to convey with this piece?” he asks, gesturing to the canvas.

I take a step back, looking at it properly for the first time. There’s a swirly dark blue background, and a kind of thick peachy column in the middle, looming up with two mounds at the base?—

Oh.

I strangle a laugh. “Anatomy has always been inspiring,” I manage, trying not to break down in giggles. Because hanging there on the wall is what seems to be a massive, jutting, lovingly-painted…

Penis.

It’s a giant cock. Hanging in pride of place in the hallway. The first thing any visitor is lucky enough to see when they walk in the room.

I kind of want to meet this crazy artist now, because I’m guessing she’s got some balls on her. Fleshy, abstract kind of balls.

“Inspiring, huh?” Duke looks just as amused.

My cheeks ache, trying to keep a straight face. “Sure! I mean, think of Rodin’s statues, the classic Greeks…”

“Real classic,” Duke grins.

“Let me guess, your idea of art is a nice Bob Ross print?”

Duke’s smile disappears. “Damn, I ain’t been to the big city to see them fancy artist shows.”

I wince. “I didn’t mean?—”

“Yeah, you did,” Duke gives a low chuckle. “You think I’m some dumb blue-collar townie.”

“Just like you think I’m some vapid Hollywood bitch who can’t string, like, two words together,” I shoot back, chirping in a Valley girl voice.

“So, we’re agreed then.” Duke scowls at me, our brief moment of art-loving truce well and truly over.

“Yup. Thanks for the help,” I say, pointedly opening the door and standing back for him to leave. “If I have any more problems with the roof… I won’t call you.”

“Good.”

“Good,” I echo, folding my arms.

Duke stands there in the doorway, annoyance flashing clearly in his eyes. Then his gaze slips to my mouth. His jaw tightens. My breath catches in my throat, and for the craziest moment, I could swear he’s about to lean in and kiss me…

Then he stomps past and out of the house without a backwards glance.

I exhale in a whoosh, sinking back against the wall.

Kiss Duke?!

I try to ignore the way my pulse is suddenly racing. From shock and disgust at the idea, I’m sure.

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