Page 45 of Blown

Damn him, but Rafe just wanted to smile and laugh along with Jake. He was radiant when he smiled, even if a huge part of Rafe was still furious with him. He had a face that was meant for smiling and those impish, blue eyes that held none of his mirth back.

Why did he have to fall head over heels for a man he couldn’t trust?

He deliberately bit his tongue through the rest of the tour, even though he could practically feel Jake vibrating with the need to engage him in banter. It had to have taxed Jake to his limit not to jump in and take charge of the tour and the conversation, even though he didn’t know the first thing about the house. The fact that he remained quiet and walked by Rafe’s side as they followed his parents and Hélène all through the house only made Rafe hot.

“It is all so beautiful,” Hélène said once they’d gone through the whole house and ended up back at the front hall. “And such a lively place. You are very good to donate such a stately home tothe community and the pursuit of art. Many English aristocrats still guard their homes jealously,non?”

“We are only aristocrats by default,” Rafe’s dad said with a gracious bow, which was part of his upper tier of flirting tactics. “The least we could do is give the house and grounds over to the community.”

“Speaking of grounds,” his mum said. “Robert and I were just about to go for a walk through the woods, since it’s such a lovely day. Would you care to join us?” She actually batted her eyelashes at Hélène.

“I would love nothing more,” Hélène said. “However, I have promised Rafe that I would tour his studio and witness his work.”

Rafe drew in a breath and stood straighter. This was it. This was the opportunity he’d been waiting for.

“That sounds like an even better idea,” his mum said, moving in a way that drew Hélène’s attention to Rafe. “We are so proud of all our children and their artistic pursuits, but Rafe’s work is second to none.”

Rafe felt his face heat, but he managed to keep smiling. He expected Jake to step in and say something at that point, but his pseudo-fiancé just stood there grinning.

“My hot shop is one of the out-buildings,” Rafe said, feeling like he spoke a beat too late. “I’ll take you down there.”

“I cannot wait,” Hélène said, smiling.

They all headed outside, and with a few quick words of goodbye and a vague invitation to lunch that Hélène didn’t quite give an answer to, Rafe’s parents headed off down the path toward the woods. That left him, Jake, and Hélène to walk on to the hot shop.

“I’ve put a lot of work into updating the building and its equipment in the last several months, since I returned from the States,” Rafe said as he began his tour. “We brought in a newfurnace, made some repairs to the annealer, and completely restocked the glass we’re using.”

“This is exquisite,” Hélène said, heading straight off to the corner where the English countryside work Rafe and Jake had been fiddling with rested. She reached out for the platter they’d painstakingly made, then pulled her hand back when her bag slipped yet again and she had to put it back over her shoulder. It didn’t seem to want to behave, so she let it drop and placed it on the floor under the table.

Rafe glanced immediately at Jake, tensing. This was the moment when Jake stepped forward and turned on his shine, eclipsing him entirely.

Jake did inch forward, but only to say, “Aren’t those beautiful? Rafe and I have been working on the design and ironing out a new technique. We call it ‘English countryside’, but Rafe can tell you much more about it than I can.”

Rafe’s heart flipped, causing him to catch his breath. He stared at Jake for a long moment, waiting for the hope that slowly spread through him to be disappointed. Jake just smiled back at him, then nodded his head toward Hélène, who had picked up the platter and was examining it closely.

At last, it was his moment to shine…and all Rafe wanted was to talk to Jake, ask why he was being so nice, and to maybe, finally, sort things between them.

“This design,” Hélène said, glancing briefly at Rafe before putting the platter down and picking up a goblet made with the same technique. “How did you make it?”

It felt like pulling away from a magnet to drag his eyes from Jake and to shift his focus to Hélène. He walked away, shaking his head slightly to get his thoughts to the right place. Concentrate. He had to concentrate if he stood a chance of getting the apprenticeship with Hélène that he craved.

“The line we’re working on was inspired by an afternoon Jake and I spent at Box Hill,” he said once he’d reached the table.

“Box Hill?” Hélène asked.

“It’s an idyllic spot in Surrey that looks out over an expansive view of the countryside,” Rafe explained. “We were there last month, admiring the view. As we talked, we came up with the idea of embodying the texture of the grass, the perspective of the vista, the blues and whites of the sky, and the greens, yellows, and browns of the land.”

“I see,” Hélène said, nodding seriously. “And how did you manage to capture such an appearance of depth in a small space such as this?” She held up the goblet.

“We used an experimental technique that involves folding thin layers of glass,” Rafe said. “It’s something we’ve spent weeks developing now. It’s not precisely a new technique, but we are confident that the way we are employing it is novel.”

He glanced back at Jake, again expecting him to intervene and explain the whole thing. Jake moved to stand nearby, but his expression had changed from grinning and eager, as he’d been back up at the house, to curious and thoughtful as he watched Hélène.

“Tell me,” Hélène said, barely glancing Jake’s way at all.

“It starts with blowing rondelles,” Rafe dove into his explanation.

He talked Hélène through the entire technique, explaining a few of the various phases he and Jake had gone through while trying to get exactly the effect they wanted. Hélène understood the basic concepts as well as he did, which meant he could talk in more depth about his art, which he was rarely able to do.

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