Page 59 of Love Finds Home

“How long have you been with her?”

“Seven years. Almost eight. I came in after the disaster that was her marriage. She’d only just opened when I found her and she needed me.”

“Tell me about him.” We both know it’s the husband comment I care about.

Jorge raises an eyebrow my way, looking for the shock and surprise of finding out she was married. Hate to disappoint him, but I knew about the marriage and divorce before she moved her first canvas into the studio.

“Narcissistic, money grubbing, man-whore. That sums it up, right? Oh, and abusive.”

“Tell me his name,” I growl before I can think about it.

“He’s long gone, big guy.” Jorge pats me on the shoulder. “Calm down. He can’t hurt her now.”

“Are you sure? Are you positive the creep leaving the presents isn’t her ex-husband?”

“Ranger, he’s dead. Drug overdose five years ago. Some new designer party drug all the richies had to have. He’s not coming back.”

“That wasn’t in the background check,” I mutter to his amusement.

“Should have done a better check. But you didn’t look into him, so you wouldn’t know.” He easily forgives me.

“Tell me who you think is leaving the presents now,” I request. “Who do I need to go after?”

He chuckles but turns serious when he looks at me. “I think his name is Stefon. She dated him briefly, but he showed someclingy tendencies. And Elle is positive he found a way into her personal studio and was fucking with stuff, but we could never prove it. That was also when the flowers started showing up.”

“What do you know about him? What’s his full name and where does he live?”

“I have no idea where he lives, but I’m sure he’ll be here this weekend for the opening. He never misses one of those.”

“Do you think he’s a threat to her?”

“I don’t know if he’s any more of a threat than any other guy who gets hung up on her.” He gives me a pointed look. “But I don’t know if he’s the type to leave threats. Flowers, yes? But the other things that ran her out of town? I don’t know.”

“Who do you think it is if it’s not him?”

“That’s just it. I don’t know.”

“If you see him, point him out to me?”

“You got it. Now go lift something with your big, powerful muscles.” He shoos me away.

I laugh as I walk away to do just what he told me. But not before I flex for him, making him gasp. Yeah, that was totally worth it. I can feel myself almost smiling as I move into the first area and hang the marked paintings on their spots.

I need Joker to get to town and help me track down this Stefon guy and let him know how things are going to go from now on.

I’ve never been to an opening at an art gallery. Been to look at art? Sure. But never when it’s been brand new. Last night was low key. Just the artists and their families were invited. It was small and intimate, and Elle gave me a full tour of the building, including showing me her private studio upstairs. It looks similar to the studio she has in Boulder Canyon, actually. A large rectangular room with a seating area and a small kitchenette.This studio is about three times bigger though, and it has a kiln and sculpture and pottery equipment in one corner.

I’m walking around the gallery for what must be the hundredth time, having already seen my friends and talked to the happy, almost married couples, when Joker appears at my side.

“This is cool.” He nods to one of the paintings. This one pays homage to the 1980s Brat Pack with an almost comic book style painting of the end ofThe Breakfast Club. You know the part where the guy is walking across the field and throws his fist up in the air? That. Guess you can’t get more pop culture than John Hughes, can you?

“It really is. Have you looked at all of them yet?”

“I’ve made the rounds. Why didn’t you tell me she painted you?”

I do a double take, furrowing my brows in his direction. “She didn’t paint me.”

“Uh, I beg to differ. Those paintings she’s got at the end? Totally you and her, man.”

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