Page 51 of Two Guys, a Girl, and a Tripod

“I thought you liked him.”

“I do,” I laugh. “But he doesn’t know what I really do. I should probably tell him in person, but I wanted to wait, see if there are any red flags first.”

“Good call.” She laughs to herself. “Unless you want to send ‘I make porn’ flowers.”

“And what kind of flowers would those be?”

“Clitoria mariana, obviously.”

I turn my head and frown, but Natalie doesn’t elaborate. Rolling my eyes, I pull out my phone to message Brody. Perhaps I should go ahead and give him my number.

Really?How boring can I get?

It only takes Brody a few minutes to respond.

That’s what normal people say, right? TGIF and all that.

Well, that’s adorable.Simp for me, Brody.

Nothing like a second date in three days to let you know a guy’s into you. I try not to let my mind wander as I walk down the street from my parking spot. I hate parallel parking, but it was that or park another six blocks away and that was absolutely not going to happen for this chubby chick.

Everywhere in Los Angeles always seems to be busy. It doesn’t matter what time of the day, week, or year I try to go somewhere. It’s busy. Everything is busy all the time, always.

Fuck LA.

The shop front saysPaint & Pinot. I like the alliteration. The building is separate from the others along the strip and it’s mostly brick with just a few small windows, above eye level. The front door is all glass, but it’s been painted from the inside with flowers. They’re beautiful, not like a beginner artist might paint them. Not the way I might paint them. There’s shading and flow and it’s breathtaking.

“Wow.” Brody’s deep, rumbling voice startles me and I turn to face him as he steps up behind me.

“Give a girl a heart attack,” I chuckle, my hand on my chest, and glance back at the door. “Yeah, the flowers are gorgeous.”

“Not the flowers.”

When I look at him again, his gaze is roaming me from top to bottom and right back up to my face. My cheeks flush. I’ve been studied like this many times, so many that I’ve lost track, but this is different. Those green eyes are fiery, melting me from the core outward. I swallow, hoping the movement isn’t actually audible, and smile. Time to put those awful porn acting skills to work–this man puts me off my game and I can’t have that.

“Aren’t you a charmer?”

Brody lifts one corner of his mouth in a crooked grin and closes the distance between us, using one hand to catch my chin beneath his thumb and index finger. Tilting my head up to his, he leans down to gently kiss me. It’s just as chaste and innocent as our first kiss, but I feel that spark again anyway.

My knees threaten to buckle in that brief moment and I reach out for him. One hand lands on his elbow, his fingers still holding my chin. The other grabs at his chest, wrinkling his spectacularly pressed shirt–that beautiful collared shirt that looks so good with the sleeves rolled up over his forearms.

When he pulls his face away, I inhale sharply and bite my lip.

“Let’s go paint some really shitty art,” he laughs, dropping my chin and trailing his open hand down my arm.

I realize I’m still holding him, so I drop my hands and smile once more.

“How do you know I’m not a pro?”

“Are you?” Brody asks with a grin as we turn toward the door.

“No, but it’s rude to assume.”

The walls of the studio are maroon and the gold ceiling is made of those tin tile things you see in old buildings. There are paintings hung all around the room, but they’re not real works of art. They’re examples made by the instructors. Some are Christmas-themed, others have meadows of flowers. One is a mountain landscape with a crude cabin in the foreground.

A small desk like a checkout counter sits off to the left, behind which is a wine bar with plastic glasses.

“Which one are we doing today?” I ask, looking around. We’re the first ones here, I notice.

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