Page 6 of Wolf's Chance

Lily…well, Lily had drawn two stick figures holding hands. “What is that?” I asked, fighting my smile as I pointed at the odd-shaped square in one of the figure’s hands.

“Picnic basket.” Her tone betrayed her disappointment that I hadn’t guessed that.

“Mm-hmm. And the flowers you’re supposed to be concentrating on?”

She gave me a flat stare. “I’m setting the scene! The flowers will come later.”

“Of course.” Going back to my seat, I hid my laughter. She didn’t need to come here. She had no interest in drawing or painting—she told me that herself—but she liked the quiet, and the fact I only had two paying customers made me her very own charity case. Lily’s father owned the lumber mill just outside of town, and another three in the state. He was quite happy that his daughter didn’t want to rush into finding a job after four years of college. He said she’d find something eventually.

My classes were twenty dollars for two hours, three times a week. I wasn’t breaking anyone’s bank with the cost of myclasses, a fact Mr. Summers, Lily’s father, liked to remind me of every time he saw me.

An entrepreneur I was not, but it paid towards my mortgage, so there was that.

Sitting back on the seat, I looked at my sketch pad. His face stared back at me. The wildflowers were no more a part of my sketch than they had been in Lily’s.

He was a strikingly handsome man with a rugged yet sophisticated appearance. I knew exactly why Lily had called himHotcakes. With long golden-blond hair that was pushed back from his face, cut to just below his ears, he had an effortlessly windswept look. His skin had a warm, sun-kissed tone, suggesting an active, outdoor lifestyle, which made sense that he was here in this town. He was most likely a hiker. The trails up the Rockies would appeal to him, I had no doubt. His strong jawline was accentuated by a thick layer of stubble that added to his masculine appeal, and his deep brown eyes were warm and intense, so dark they reminded me of high-quality dark chocolate.

Broad shoulders hinted at the strength that lay under his simple neutral-colored shirt. He was definitely eye-catching. Sitting back, I considered his portrait as I thought about what Lily had said. He was good-looking. It would be easy to believe thatI’dbeen the one watchinghim, yet even as I stared at his lifeless portrait, I could feel the sense ofsomethingfrom him that I’d yet to put a name to.

His overall demeanor had been confident and charming, but he had shared nothing with me, not even his name, and I frowned as I considered the art in front of me. Did that sense ofmystery add to his allure? I recalled the way he had spoken when he’d called me conceited.

He also called me desperate and pathetic.

I was glaring at his portrait now. Maybe the air of mystery I had created around him had erased my memory of him beingcharming.

Squinting at his picture, I tilted my head slightly. No, something was missing from this. It looked like him, but it wasn’thim. How I knew that, I wasn’t sure. Yet I knew something was lacking.

Taking my sketch pad off the easel, I turned to a new fresh page, quickly sketching the flowers in front of me. No good would come of sketching the handsome,arrogantman. A man who I knew was watching me. I was certain of it, and if I saw him again, I wouldn’t confront him; I would do what I should have done to start with and avoid him.

Confrontation wasn’t my style. I’d surprised myself this morning when I approached him. It was so out of character.

Gritting my teeth, I scolded myself for thinking about him.Again.

Glancing at the clock, I reminded my students that they had thirty minutes left in class, and I gave the vase in front of me my undivided attention for the next twenty minutes.

As Peter and Lorna said goodbye, Lily helped me tidy the store.

“It’s better than yoga,” she told me with a smile as she stacked the easels. “I get more zen playing at nothing than I do in the warrior position.”

“You love yoga,” I reminded her. Her comment aboutplaying at nothing, I chose to ignore.

“Who doesn’t like yoga?”

Me. The uncoordinated.

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” I asked instead.

Lily toed her sneaker as she avoided looking at me. “I know it’s a ploy, I know it is, but dad left the account ledgers on the kitchen counter when he left this morning.”

Grinning, I watched her try not to squirm. “Ahh, that old trick,” I teased.

Exasperated, she threw her hands in the air. “HeknowsI’m going to look at them, I know I’m going to look at them, but does heaskme to look? No. I’ll balance his books, and he won’t mention it, and then we’ll do the whole dance again in a month.”

“Why don’t you just take his job offer?”

“Because then I’m the girl who could only get a job working for her dad!” she wailed.

“But you want to work for him,” I countered reasonably.

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