Page 9 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

“Hey, you two.” Oscar grins. “Are you guys enjoying the art show?”

“I love it,” I couldn’t help but gush. “I already have my eyes set on a few things. If I had the space, I would buy everything!”

“Oh, wow,” Oscar’s brows rose. He glances at his friend, “That’s high praise coming from you, Briar.”

I shrug, “I’m being serious. Where’s the artist? I want to congratulate them.”

Oscar shoves his friend at me. “Briar, meet the artist, Rurik Campbell. Rurik, meet one of my good friends, Briar Reyes.”

I stare at the human masterpiece before me.

Dark, wavy hair falling in loose waves frames his face, contrasting with the brightest blue eyes I've ever seen. His perfectly straight nose complements a set of luscious pink lips and a sharp jawline begging to be licked.

Shit.

I thought love at first sight didn’t exist.

I shove my hand toward him and gave him a smile I know most men go crazy for. “It's nice to meet you, Rurik. I love your work.”

Usually, when someone has their hand out, they expect the person to shake it as a greeting or whatever, right? Right.

Rurik decides that it is too mainstream because he stares at my hand as if I’m holding a pile of manure and glares at me with disgust.

He mutters something to Oscar and walks away, leaving me hanging.

Huh. Angel’s got some spice to him.

No worries. I enjoy a little kick in my meals.

“Uh,” I awkwardly drop my hand and tilt my head in confusion at my friends. “Do I stink or something? I swear I put deodorant on.”

“Someone needs to tell Rurik it’s rude to be an asshole to his guests,” Nat scoffs as we all stare after Rurik.

“You’re fine, Briar.” Oscar shoots me an apologetic look. “He's not an asshole, I don't know what just happened. Let me go talk to him.”

“No, I'll do it.”

Before Nat or Oscar can stop me, I walk to the bar and order a drink. A few minutes later, I lean back against the counter and sip my wine, watching Rurik chat with some strangers here and there.

I'm pretty sure he can feel my gaze burning into the back of his neck because he keeps rubbing it, glancing behind him until our eyes clash.

I lift my half-empty wine glass with a wink.

I swear, his cheeks turn a bit pink before he walks away from my line of sight.

Don’t fly away yet, angel.

I finish the remaining wine in one big gulp before thanking the bartender and leaving the glass on the counter. I skim through the crowd until I find his gorgeous self on the side, talking to some old lady standing in front of another one of his paintings.

I approach them, grabbing a couple of champagne glasses from one of the serving trays.

"What inspired this landscape, Rurik? It's so beautiful," I hear the lady coo, her hand playfully touching his elbow.

Would people notice if I break my glass so I can stab her hand to get her off him?

Woah. Calm down, girl.

Rurik smiles bashfully, completely ignoring that I am now standing across from him.

---