Page 21 of Fractured Fear

“I think I can handle a bit more than that tiny little thing.”

Hayes chuckles behind me but it’s Alma who responds. “You should probably listen to the expert, honey. She’s not being mean. She’s trying to keep your dignity intact.”

Rio comically narrows his gaze and adds more clay. After wedging the clay and cleaning up after himself, thank God he’s not a slob, he’s ready at the wheel. Much as I anticipated, after ten minutes of trying to center his clay, he huffs out a frustrated breath.

“Everything okay?” I ask from the wheel next to him. I’m making soup bowls because I don’t know what else to do with my time. My creative brain has left me. At this rate, my exhibit will include paper airplanes and stick figures.

“It’s still off.” Rio gives the clay a look that promises death if it doesn’t fall in line and do what he wants.

I cover my mouth to hide my giggle, but Rio must have super hearing because his focus whips my way with a mock glare. “Is my distress funny, Mama?”

“You’re hardly a damsel in distress.”

“Are you sure about that?” Rio puts the back of his hand to his forehead in a fainting gesture and raises the pitch of his voice to a level I did not think possible for a man like him. “Oh, Knight Spencer. I have fallen and can't get up.”

“Uhhh that’s the Life Alert commercial.”

Snapping out of character he says, “The sentiment is the same.” Then, just as quickly, he returns to his fair maiden persona. “What is a poor pottery student to do? Alone and stranded.”

Giving into the silliness, I laugh at his antics. “Fear not, damsel. Brave Knight Spencer is here.” The room erupts with applause and laughter from our audience.

“Ay dios mío. I was running out of lines.”

“I’m sure your creativity would have rescued you there.”

I scoot my stool closer to his and hold my finger to the spinning mound of clay. When my finger bumps back and forth, I give Rio a few pointers and encourage him to try again.

He finally gets the clay centered and flashes me a dizzying smile. “I told you I could handle more than a small bit of clay.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.” I motion to move back to my own wheel when I feel a cold finger sweep across my cheek. Raising my hand to my face, I find that Rio has painted my skin with wet clay. “Did you just…”

I’m cut off when he swipes another finger down my nose. Shocked, I sit there with my mouth open. His mischievous smile widens, showing off his perfectly straight teeth and a single dimple on his right cheek.

His smile, just like his laugh, is infectious. I can’t stop myself from smiling back and returning his spirited gesture with my own. “You’re dead, Casanova.”

Dragging my hand against my own clay, I place my palm on the side of his face making a mess of him.

“You asked for it now, Mama.” He lunges for me with clay-caked hands, wrapping his arms around me, and pulling me towards him. I let out a squeal and brace my hands against his solid chest as he sits me on his lap with my legs to the side.

“No, no! I take it back! I take it back!”

“Too late.” His hands dive into my hair and spread the mess all through my strands and pull my bun from the tie.

“Don’t forget that payback’s a bitch.” I dip both hands in his dirty clay water and run them over his dark chopped hair and over his ears.

After my attack, chaos ensues. We sling wet clay and muddy water at each other until I’m laughing so hard I can’t breathe.

Cheers for both of us ring out in the studio. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re placing bets. Alma loves a friendly gamble and Paul always appeases her which makes Hayes’ FOMO kick in and he ends up participating.

“Show her who's boss!”

“Don’t let him beat you!”

Somehow, I end up straddling Rio’s lap and he wraps one hand around both of my wrists securing them to his chest. His other hand brings a huge blob of wet clay to the front of my throat and drags it down my chest, slightly pulling my shirt with it. His hand resting right above my cleavage.

My breathing picks up and a flush spreads across my cheeks. His warm skin pressed against mine sends a zap of energy to my clit.

“I think I saw a new painting hanging next door,” Alma says.

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