Page 13 of Muzzled

She listened as the price rose and busied herself cleaning drops of paint from the easel before it transferred to another piece.

“Three hundred,” a familiar voice called out, grabbing her attention. She watched the crowd part as Ryan made his way to the front, cash in hand.

When she opened her mouth to protest the amount, he gave her a tight smile and shrugged his broad shoulders. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for quality, unique pieces.”

He was as put together as he’d been yesterday, his black jeans and black short-sleeved button-down looking out of place in the hot summer sun, yet somehow working for the whole stoic mystery-man aura he was giving off.

She liked it.

Very much.

“That’s ridiculous,” she countered, shaking the sealant can and popping the lid off as she turned her attention away from him before she was caught gawking like half the other women around them. “Make it half that and we’ll call it good.”

Logan’s protests joined Ryan’s and the two exchanged the money, her opinion apparently meaningless in the transaction.

Ryan lifted the large canvas and glanced down at his messenger bag. “Any chance I can leave this here for now and grab it on my way home later?”

She stood and set the piece apart from the others. “I can’t promise Logan won’t resell it,” she warned, inhaling a little deeper than normal when she caught the scent of his musky cologne mixed with something wild she couldn’t quite identify but definitely enjoyed. “We close up here around six. Why don’t you come by then? We can go our separate ways to get cleaned up, then meet up for the night?”

Logan gave her a thumbs-up behind Ryan’s back.

Ryan looked taken aback before he nodded slowly. “That sounds good. Dinner?”

His surprise amused her, the whole shyness thing bringing her inner siren to the forefront. Tampering a smile, she got back to work. “Sure, but I’m buying.”

*

Ryan balanced hisphone against his ear and ran his straightedge along his jaw. “Yeah, I may be at a standstill until the next festival hits in a couple weeks, but I have a few notes on regulars I’ve seen walking around every day,” he muttered, scraping the shaving cream onto a towel. “How’s Charlotte liking the new job?”

Alex launched into a beaming review of his fiancée’s promotion with the National Park Service while Ryan finished the right side of his face and switched sides. A good three minutes passed before Alex took a breath. “So anyone interesting up there?”

Mike’s smoky eyes flashed across his mind and he frowned. “Has there ever been?” he countered, rinsing his blade off and ignoring the way his mood lifted at the thought of her. “I’m heading out again in a minute, so I’ll touch base in a few days.”

He set his phone on the dresser and pulled his shoes on, taking a final look in the mirror to ensure he’d washed the last of the shaving cream off before he shrugged on a black button-up over his black tee.

His latest purchase sat in the corner of the room, the worn eyes of the hellhound facing the wall, not a single brushstroke out of place. From the details of the wooden doorway he’d sat in last night to the deep red of the light overhead to the tilt of his head as Hades and Seph walked away, the image was perfect.

Perfect, except for the iron muzzle locked around him.

He’d watched the piece take shape from across the street, studying the artist as much as the art. His first glimpses of Mike had caught him off guard when he approached the area, seeing her appear almost unfocused and hesitant as she faced a blank canvas. But when he finally settled on a location where he could observe her without detection, something flipped, and she dove into her work with a passion and intensity bordering on manic.

Every so often, her glazed eyes would lift to the crowd as it waxed and waned, scanning for something or someone before she would snap back into the zone as though she were entranced. It was both mesmerizing and unnerving to see her process unfold, the image taking shape in jagged sections until the final strokes when it came together.

It wasn’t until the muzzle was added that he reacted, an unreasonable humiliation knotting his gut while he pushed through the audience toward the offensive piece, yanking his money from his wallet.

Sliding his keycard and phone into his back pockets, he walked the long hallway to the exit.

Mike’s suggestion to meet up had thrown him, his attention so wrapped up in securing possession of the artwork that it had taken a few seconds for his mind to process her invitation. When he’d swung by to grab the canvas, she’d been absorbed in completing her final piece, absently nodding toward her phone with a muttered request for him to add his number to it.

So he did, catching the small smile gracing her lips when he set her cell next to her.

She’d messaged him an hour later with a place and time.

Firing off a quick text to let her know he was on his way, he pulled onto the road and made his way to the crowded streets surrounding the festival, patrons still swarming around despite the official end of the event. With parking at a premium, he locked up and jogged over to the lounge Mike had stated, checking the time and debating how many minutes late required a text.

He slowed his pace as he approached the outdoor bar, smiling at his phone when it buzzed.

Standing me up?

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