Page 11 of Her Painter Bear Mate

"That's Dad." Clarissa's jaw tightened and she turned to the bar.

Dee felt like an idiot for bringing up Clarissa's father.

"Sorry," she muttered. She'd been apologising a lot to Clarissa lately. She drummed her fingers on the bar. "I know, let me buy you an apology drink."

"Do you not have friends to get back to?" Clarissa asked, nudging vaguely towards the table where Jen and Ruth were no doubt excitedly speculating about this encounter.

"They won't mind if yours don't," Dee said, which was the honest truth. Even though a lot of time had passed since she hung out with her old school friends, she knew they would be fine with it. They would grill her about this later but she could live with that.

Clarissa glanced over her shoulder. "They won't even notice I'm gone. It's a sort of reunion with some of my old volleyball friends but they're all still playing so I'm the odd woman out. I guess some things never change."

"I forgot you played volleyball. I could never, I'm way too clumsy. As proven by the ice cream incident," Dee said. It caused the other woman to chuckle and the sound was warm and full and lovely. It sent a little jolt of satisfaction through Dee which surprised her. She'd never before cared about making Clarissa smile.

The bartender paused in front of them. "What can I get you, ladies?"

"Glass of red for me," Dee said, glancing sideways

"Glass of white, please," Clarissa ordered.

"I see we still have opposing tastes."

Clarissa winked at her. "Some would say those are not opposing tastes at all."

When the drinks arrived, they gently clinked their glasses together for a toast. Dee didn't know exactly what they were toasting to but it felt significant, like maybe they were burying the hatchet after all those years. She certainly knew she would never see Clarissa in the same light again, not after witnessing her cry like that. They were still rivals though.

She watched as Clarissa sipped from her wine, noting the print of red lipstick left behind on the rim of the glass. It was kind of pretty and if it were left on skin, it would be a visual memory of a kiss. Just like a painting.

Without meaning to, Dee found herself staring at Clarissa and admiring the individual features that made up an admittedly very pretty face. Dee's classical nose was slightly crooked, her eyes had the longest lashes, her lips curved up perfectly into that desired cupid’s bow. When she turned her head briefly, the dim light of the old chandelier caught in the two studs in her left ear and the metal bar across her shell.

If painting portraits was Dee’s thing, she would’ve loved to paint Clarissa.

The thought surprised her and she looked at her wine, impressed with it. She should ask for the name if it was sparking the desire to paint and have plenty, plenty more.

“You’re staring. Do I have toothpaste on my chin? Smudged lipstick?” Clarissa asked, wiping the corner where her lips met.

“No, I was just thinking that your face is pleasant,” Dee blurted out, in an attempt to give an explanation why she’d been staring. Her cheeks flushed. “For painting, I mean.”

A genuine laugh emerged from Clarissa. “Thank you. You have a nice face too. For painting.”

Dee was mortified. This wine was not good, it was horrible. And to make matters worse, she could see her two friends staring at them with knowing excited grins on their faces. She had no doubt they would ask her all sorts of questions when she got back as if they were in school again and she’d been caught chatting with her crush. Not that Clarissa was her crush but she was sure that nosey Jen and ever-romantic Ruth wouldn't believe otherwise.

She pushed the thoughts away and focused on the woman in front of her. "You mentioned something about a class. You're taking a class?"

Clarissa let out a hum. "Teaching a class. Outdoor Painting for amateurs. It doesn't pay that well but it gets me out the door and painting, so I love it."

"You're a teacher?" Dee didn't mean to sound so surprised.

"I know I'm not quite the star you are but I think I do alright."

The gravelly feeling in the back of her throat was back making it hard to swallow. "I wouldn't call myself a star."

Clarissa raised one of her perfect eyebrows. "Now you're going to act humble? Last year, they named you one of the most promising rising artists. And you've shown your work in some of the biggest galleries in the country. If that's not star quality, I don't know what is."

"Please, stop. Besides, you were always a much better painter than I was," Dee muttered, her accolades stabbing through her like daggers. Even though she'd worked for them, hard, it didn't stop her from feeling like a fake or a fraud while she struggled to paint. If anything, it made it worse. It made her wonder if she ever deserved all the praise and fame.

"If you're trying to make me feel less bad about my art, this isn't helping. Your art is amazing and beautiful and atmospheric. It literally stops people in their tracks. I've seen it happen," Clarissa rambled.

Dee's ears started to ring and she tightened her grip on her wine glass, almost causing it to snap. Hearing her rival praise her like this should've made her feel good but it didn't. It just brought back old feelings of failure, rejection, inadequacy.

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