Page 12 of Two Wrong Turns

Nolan didn’t say anything else. He closed the back door and made his way to his truck. Thanks to the silence in the area, I heard every little move he made. The way he closed and locked the front door. The way his feet crunched over the gravel drive. The sound of his truck door shutting and the way his tires echoed his departure.

Left alone, I focused on letting my creative side come out. It had been far too long since I gave myself full freedom to create without worry.

If the bear showed up today, I’d simply work him in. He would fit the location, and he might even make it better. I wouldn’t know until the piece was complete.

Once I had everything in place, I went to change into something I could get as dirty as needed. Another baggy shirt went on, as did the paint-splattered leggings I wore when I worked. Something about the tight fabric gave me a sense of focus I couldn’t explain.

Art can be a tactile experience sometimes. The body and mind are connected in ways we still don’t quite understand.

Dressed and ready, I faced the canvas with my pencil in hand. It was time to create.

Hours later,I was hungry and sore. The sun had begun to drop, as had my mood.

I’d forgotten to eat lunch along the way, my creative flow deep enough that my basic needs weren’t a priority.

Looking over the painting before me, I felt a sense of pride at what I’d created. It had to be my best work yet. The color, the realism. It felt like I’d brought the forest to life.

But there was no bear in sight. I froze at the reality.

Where had it gone? Why hadn’t I added it to this piece like the others? Was there something special about this place?

I didn’t believe in magic and all that stuff, yet this place held a certain energy about it. And the fact that it broke the rut I’d been in gave it more power.

The sound of a door behind me drew my attention. I spun to find Nolan behind me, his eyes wide as he took in the painting.

“You did this?”

I nodded.

“Today? While I was gone?”

“Yeah. It’s a bit of a blur, but that tends to happen. I didn’t even remember to eat,” I joked.

Nolan growled at my admission. It reminded me of the sounds he made at the diner. It was more animalistic than human, though I still liked the sound no matter the basis.

“I can put it away if you hate it. I’ll find somewhere else to work if I’m a bother.”

My words broke whatever spell had come over him. Nolan pressed forward until he was far closer than strangers should stand.

“No,” he said firmly.

“No?”

“You’ll work here. You can paint all you want. I was just — I was shocked. I’ve never seen art this beautiful. You’re extremely talented, Barrett. I’m honored you chose to portray this land.”

“Thank you. I’m thankful I got the chance to see it.”

We were close enough that I see the way his expression shifted at my words. Heat filled his gaze as his eyes flickered down to my lips.

Did he want to kiss me? Did I want to kiss him? There was no reason I shouldn’t. At least none that mattered at this moment.

He liked my art. He wanted me to keep making more. He’s given me a place to rest and space to do as I please.

How could I not be attracted to that?

Nolan dragged me from my thoughts with his arm wrapping around my waist. The grip was firm, unyielding. I sank into him, hands landing on his chest for balance.

“Tell me I shouldn’t,” he whispered.

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