Page 11 of The Embrace of Evergreen

That might work. At the three previous workshops, even though one of the gallery owners had been at my side, interjecting interesting facts about the way the business side of each studio functions, the actual tour and explanations about art processes and equipment had come almost exclusively from one of the resident artists as they’d shown us around. Hopefully there are enough people here to both give Emily a ride and take me on a tour.

Blue

“Blue!”

I groan when Cam yells my name from the shop’s small front office for the second time. No one here ever needs anyone urgently enough to yell across the shop unless someone is hurt or on fire. Hearing my name yelled twice isn’t a good sign.

“One sec!” I yell back before sighing and shoving the misshapen travesty of molten glass at the end of my pipe into the bucket of wet newsprint. So much for that piece. It’s not like it was taking the shape I wanted anyway; I’ve been fighting it for more than an hour. Maybe Cam has simply saved me a couple of hours of anguish before I inevitably gave up and trashed it anyway. It’s not been a good morning. I woke up too early. My coffee was too weak and plasticky, and I didn’t have time to stop and grab better coffee if I wanted to attempt to accomplish something at the shop before work. I should have stopped to get coffee; the glass has been fighting me all morning. It’s not the first day I’ve felt likethis over the last few months, and despite spending the past three weekends wandering through the forest, I can’t seem to either pull myself out of my weird emotional introspection or to get the guy from the coffee shop out of my head. It’s getting hard to convince myself that the two things are unrelated.

“Ya, man, what’s up?” I half ask, half yell from a few feet down the hall as I make my way toward the office in a stumbling sort of slow jog while wiping my hands on my jeans.

“Hey. Emily is here, and her kid is sick, so she needs a ride to…”

Cam’s reply is cut short as I turn the corner and slam into a body that I didn’t expect to find in the doorway.

“Shit.”

“Fuck. God, I’m sor…” I start my apology at the same time the body I ran into curses at having been unexpectedly tackled, but my words evaporate as I look up to find brilliant forest-green eyes and auburn hair standing so close that they fill my field of vision completely.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Ourwords overlap a second time, rendering us both speechless for a long, weighted moment as our lips twitch up into small, embarrassed smiles.

“Umm…sorry to interrupt whatever weirdness is happening right now,” Cam interjects, “but Emily’s kid is sick, so I’m going to run her over to the school to grab him. Blue, this is Ethan. Ethan, this is Blue, one of our resident artists here.”

I nod briefly in Cam’s direction to indicate I’m listening, but I can’t tear my gaze away from the eyes the color of pine and the smattering of pale-tan freckles hovering across from me.

“Ethan is the…shit, sorry.” I can hear the cringe in Cam’s voice without looking at him.

“Financial analyst specializing in corporate development and risk evaluation,” Ethan’s deep, smooth voice supplies without hesitation when Cam pauses. It’s the first time I’ve heard him speak, and I never want the gentle rumble that vibrates its way across my skin to stop.

“Ya, that.”

Ethan doesn’t look offended, and with a title like that, I’m sure this sort of thing happens to him often.

“The analyst Emerald City Arts has hired to help them out with their plans to buy out a few local studios, including this place. I was supposed to give him a tourand explain what we do here. I mean, obviously, he knows what we do here, but like how the equipment works and the process and everything, but I’m the only one here with a car right now. Can you show him around and answer his questions?”

Most of the hot shop artists, myself included, are thrilled with the gallery’s plans. While we all pay membership dues that go toward rent and utilities and anything else the shop might need, it’s difficult to keep the place running as an artist-funded collective. Rent keeps going up, repairs are always needed, and even basic things like filing taxes always cost more every year. While there are a few members who don’t want to sell because, let’s face it, you can’t ever make everyone happy, I’m glad to see that they’ve brought someone in to help them put together a formal and functional plan to move forward. The fact that it seems I’ll now get to spend the morning giving a tour to the auburn-haired man from the coffee shop in order to facilitate the deal just makes it even sweeter.

This is the closest we’ve ever been, and I find myself mesmerized by the way a few light-tan freckles are dusted across his pale skin. I want to count them or brush my lips across them to see if he shudders at my touch.Why the fuck do I want to do that? It takes everything I have to tear my gaze away from his, and I shake my head briefly to pull myself together as I glance over at Cam.

“Sure thing, man.”

Cam glances at Ethan and then raises an eyebrow in my direction.

“No fucking in the shop.”

My laugh and Emily’s snort both burst out loudly enough to echo through the small, cluttered office space.

“No promises.” I grin at Cam before glancing back to Ethan in time to watch a deep blush rise up his neck and spread across his cheeks.

“K, guys, we’re out. Ethan, just text me if you need anything. If not, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Emily grabs Cam’s sleeve and drags him past us toward the door as she says her goodbyes. “Later, Blue.”

“Later. Hope Hugo feels better.”

“Tha…” The shop’s heavy metal door closing behind them cuts off the end of her thank you.

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