Page 25 of Painted

He expected her to reply with kind words, or another joke, or anything to steer him back to the right path.

Instead, she picked up the much smaller canvas with the nude sketch of Early.

“Well,” she said, eyes glittering as she scanned the work Rhys had done on the piece so far. “It certainly looks as though your live model class is a success.”

“I’m lucky Early was willing to step in at the last minute to pose,” Rhys said, trying to make his voice flat.

His mum just hummed in that all-knowing way she had as she looked at his work. “I’ve been saying it all along, and I’ll say it again now,” she said, glancing up and handing the canvas over to Rhys. “Maybe you should try something different for a while. It will refresh the work you’re already doing.”

“Are we talking about art or life now?” Rhys asked.

His mum made a noncommittal sound and shrugged one shoulder.

“You’re so enigmatic, mum.” Rhys huffed a laugh and shook his head as he stepped past her to put the canvas with Early back on the counter. “No wonder you and Dad have an open relationship.”

“Cheeky!” His mum smacked his arm, then tilted her head up with fake arrogance. “Your father and I have always had an open relationship because we are entirely too filled with passion for our own goods. We would drive each other mad and would have divorced ages ago if we didn’t allow ourselves occasional extracurricular outlets.”

“Would you really have divorced?” Rhys went tight with horror at the thought.

His mum gave him a reassuring smirk. “Of course not, love,” she said. “Your father and I are soulmates. So much so that we respect each other’s expansive spirits.”

“Whatever that means,” Rhys said with a laugh, crossing back to his canvas.

In reality, he was pretty sure he did know what she meant. He was glad his parents knew and loved and respected each other enough to allow each other to live their own lives. He was also bloody glad that his mum had come back from her wanderings and was there for them all at the moment.

“What puzzles me,” his mum said, coming to stand so that she could look over his shoulder at the landscape while Rhys stood lamely in front of it, “is how two such bohemian spirits managed to bring such stuffy, unimaginative children into the world.”

“Mum!” Rhys blurted, twisting to grin at her. “That hurts.”

“Hmm, yes, I’m sure holding it all in those balls of yours definitely hurts.”

“Mum!” Rhys said even louder, laughing. “Hearing you talk about my balls absolutely does not inspire me to use them.”

“Then my lips will be sealed,” his mum said, miming zipping her mouth shut. “But yours certainly shouldn’t be.”

“God, you’re embarrassing,” Rhys said, turning away from her.

It was astounding how much better she made him feel, though. He really had missed her when she’d been gone. Raina had been just like her in so many ways. Rhys hadn’t realized how much he’d been missing that sassy female energy.

The moment he thought that, the memory of Early so full of themself as they’d posed that morning sped back to him again. It wasn’t even close to being the same energy that his mother and sister had. That would have been supremely weird and wrong. But there had been something in Early’s smile, something that tickled Rhys’s insides and left him wanting more. He liked excitement in his relationships. Maybe that was part of the legacy his parents had given him. Maybe it was why his last couple of relationships had fallen flat. There hadn’t been any zing, any danger.

“Put it aside and do something else,” his mum said, leaning close to his ear. She had to go up on her toes to reach his ear, and when she stood down again, she patted his back. “Truly, love. No painting in the history of art was ever made better by grinding away at it when inspiration vanished. Work on something else and you’ll get your mojo for this piece back.”

“Thanks, Mum,” Rhys said, turning to her and pulling her into his arms for a hug. He was nearly a foot taller than her and twice as broad, but he hugged her like he was still a child who needed his mum’s embrace to make him feel safe.

His mum kissed his cheek, and after a few parting words, left the studio in a sweep of her eclectic, hand-made skirts, leaving a trace of her woodsy perfume behind her.

Rhys took a deep breath of it, then turned back to the landscape. She was right. He needed to do something else, to go down another path.

Almost like he was reaching for forbidden fruit, Rhys moved over to the counter where he’d set Early’s canvas when his mum had given it back to him. He picked it up and swept his eyes over it. He’d only had twenty minutes to work on it that morning, and he’d only done as much as he needed to demonstrate the next phase of the project to his class.

What he had was good, though. It had been ages since he’d painted any figures, let alone nude ones, but he’d once been good at it. If he was clever, he could not only convince Early to pose for a more involved project of his own, he could trick himself into thinking it was for art’s sake and not the sake of his libido.

And so what if it was his libido in the driver’s seat? After the way Early had looked that morning and the confidence in their eyes, Rhys was willing to reevaluate whether a hot little fling might work for the two of them.

He put the small canvas down and headed away from his nook toward the door, a smile on his face. It was too early to jump into anything, but a little careful research, spending time with Early and getting to know them better, couldn’t hurt anyone.

EIGHT

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