Page 17 of Hide Me Darling

Makai nods, the strange look in his eyes fading as quickly as it had appeared. “Well, if you ever need a late-night workout, just let me know. I can make arrangements for you.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, heading towards the exit. “See you around, Makai.”

“See you, Taylor,” he calls after me, his voice carrying a lingering note of curiosity.

As I step out of the gym, I can’t shake the feeling that Makai knows more than he’s letting on. His reaction to my comment about the lights being on late was unsettling. Was he just caught off guard, or is there something more to it?

Either way, I think it is time to add more to my list on the owner of the gym.

Chapter 8

Hydessa

Instead of going straight back home, I decide to take some notes on my phone before heading to the tattoo parlor, Saints and Sinners Ink.

When I arrive, I realize it’s dark inside, the doors closed. I guess it’s a bit early for this sort of business to be open. Curiously, I look at the artwork in the window. The artist is talented. Intricate designs of dragons, flowers, and abstract patterns line the display, each piece showcasing a unique style and remarkable attention to detail.

As I move closer to the window to get a better look, I notice a small sign tucked in the corner. "Open at ten," it reads, accompanied by a rough sketch of a clock with the hands set to ten. I glance at the time on my phone to realize I still have another hour.

Turning away from the parlor, I decide to see if the art studio is open at this time instead. Heading across to the waterfront, I approach the front of the building where the gallery is. On this side there are a lot of pieces of art on display, various splashes of color across the canvases drawing the eye. Each piece is beautiful in its own unique way.

A bell jingles as I push through the glass door, the inside revealing glimpses of the beach and the painted surfboards through the back of the large open space.

“With you in a moment,” a voice calls out from behind a wall that seems to separate the spaces.

Making my way in that direction, I pass the divider to see the space open out toward the crashing water. Big glass doors have been pushed to the side to allow an uninterrupted space between the beach and the shop.

To the side there are a lot of surfboards in the process of being painted, while several chairs and easels are set up facing toward the open back of the building.

A man is standing in the center of the space with his back to me. From the hints of the tattoo around his ripped tank, I believe it's the artist I saw painting the night before. He’s spraying something on one of the canvases set up on an easel. The artwork in here is nothing like those in the gallery out front, making me assume he didn’t create them all.

As he turns to set the bottle in his hand aside, he catches sight of me in the doorway and flashes a grin. A little stunned, I have to hide my reaction. There are highlights that shine through his black hair as he moves, almost like the pelt of a wolf. His smile reveals dimples in his cheeks that I’m sure capture the attention of a lot of women. He is handsome, and if he didn’t keep a layer of stubble along his jaw he may have come across as a pretty boy.

But it's his eyes that have me startling, though I expect he gets that reaction all the time. One is brown, and the other is blue. I have heard of heterochromia, but I’ve never actually met someone with it before.

"Hi there," he greets, his voice warm and inviting with a slight English accent I didn’t pick up on when he spoke earlier. "Welcome to my humble studio. I'm Chester. Are you interested in a tour or looking to buy some art?"

"Hi, I'm Taylor," I reply, stepping further into the studio. "I just moved to the island and wanted to check out the local spots. Your work is incredible." I gesture to the pieces around the room.

"Thank you, Taylor," Chester says, a confident look spreading across his face.

I nod towards the art he just finished spraying. "Are those ones done by someone else?"

Chester glances at the pieces and his lips lift to max capacity. "Should I take it that you aren't a fan of my latest work?"

My eyes widen as I realize I probably just not so subtly insulted him. "Oh, I didn't mean—"

He laughs and waves me off, picking up the piece to move it toward the other side of the room. "I'm joking. These aren't mine. I teach a class here in the evenings twice a week for the tourists."

I let out a relieved breath, smiling at his easy going demeanor. "That's great. I might need to come and try my hand at it too. Though, I’m not sure I’d be any good."

Chester chuckles, setting the canvas down and turning back to me. "It's all about having fun and expressing yourself. You'd be surprised at what you can do when you let go and just enjoy the process."

There is something about how he worded that, like he isn't talking completely about painting.

I don't know if it's his eyes that has me suddenly feeling uneasy, or the look in them. But as quickly as the feeling appears, it disappears again. Chester, like so many others on this island, seems to have layers beneath his friendly face. It’s clear there’s more to him than meets the eye.

"I might take you up on that," I reply with a smile, genuinely intrigued by the idea of trying my hand at painting. "Expressing myself sounds like just what I need right now."

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