Page 30 of Wolf's Chance

The door closed quietly behind them, and they left me wondering what the hell had just happened.

“Strangest two weeks of my life,” I muttered, starting to clean up.

It was mid-afternoon, the sun was shining, and whether I’d wanted it or not, I took the doctor’s advice and closed the store early. The walk home was sluggish but enjoyable. My step slowed as I neared my house.

“Should I be surprised you’re on my front step?” I asked Caleb as I walked up the path.

“You’re home early. Going anywhere?”

I ignored him as I opened the door. I didn’t bother telling him he couldn’t come in. I wasn’t sure I could keep him out, and despite his obvious dislike of me, I didn’t feel unsafe around him.

I didn’t feel safe either, but I was curious about where he had been.

“No, I just decided to come home.”

“Sick?”

Repressing the sigh, I shook my head. “I am perfectly fine.” I recalled what the doctor had said. “Apart from being clammy, having a poor diet and I don’t sleep enough.”

Caleb looked me over slowly, and my heart rate picked up despite my brain screaming not to be affected by him. “You look okay to me.”

Okay. I lookedokay. It’s what every woman craved to hear.How do I look? Okay.Ugh. Kill me now.

“Thanks,” I snapped, and I saw him frown. “Why are you here? To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Have you painted me this week?”

This day was just full of surprises. “Wow. Now you just come out and ask?”

He was still frowning. “Why would I not?”

Excellent question. “It’s personal.”

“Yes. To me.”

He had a point, but thatwasn’tthe point. “Don’t you think it’s not personal to me?” Stuff the doctor, I needed chocolate. I reached into the cupboard for the emergency candy bar andfound it missing.Damn it, Alistair. Fighting back the scream of frustration, I turned to face him. “And no. I haven’t.”

“Show me.”

I gaped. He looked unfazed. “No!”

He rolled his eyes and then went and looked anyway. “Caleb!” Hurrying after him, I tried to stop him at the door to the studio, but he merely swatted my hand away like I was an annoyance.

On my easel sat the sketch pad, and on the open page sat a picture of Caleb crouched over a fire. He appeared to be naked. The accusatory look he shot my way made me look away. But if anyone had the right to be angry, it was me.

“You burned it.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Isn’t it?” We were in a proper stare-off. “You bought it. You burned it. Why?”

“Changed my mind, the composition was off.”

“Liar.”

He shrugged, moving to the wall and flicking through canvases. “Anything else?”

“No.”

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