Page 25 of Muzzled

Logan gave her a worried glance, but obeyed. “Ryan will probably be around soon.”

“This has nothing to do with him,” she grumbled, using her pinky to smooth out her thicker lines. “Could you please pass me that rubber chisel?”

Tucking her chair in closer to her easel, she doubled her attention on the fine lines, blending the colors of the oils until the faces in the piece were little more than ghosts on the canvas.

She wasn’t lying when she told Logan her current mood had nothing to do with Ryan’s absence from the area. Or his formal text letting her know he had received her message detailing her position among the buskers and artists peppering the busy street.

Her mood was entirely a reflection of the emotional crash she’d had the night before.

Licking her lips, she blocked the combating sounds weaving through the festival.

One stupid kiss had played over and over in her mind, the giddiness she felt in the moment replaying like a drug until it slowly evaporated, and the unease of the watching shadows took hold and doused any elation she’d experienced.

Adding an extra pop of red to her piece, she sat back.

Maybe it was Ryan’s fault a little.

Logan’s elbow dug into her arm, and she glared up at him as he grinned. “Lover boy, two o’clock.”

Shaking the can of sealant spray, she scooted her chair back, catching sight of Ryan coming up on her left. “I hate when you use clock directions. You’re always wrong.”

“Not my fault I wasn’t taught how to read a face clock,” he countered, tipping a can of turpentine onto a rag and handing it to her. “Sticking with the pastels for the next?”

Humming in agreement, she began scrubbing the brightest colors from her skin, pretending not to notice Ryan until he crouched down at her side.

“Sorry I’m so late, but there’s a guy down the way painting nothing but leaves,” he said quietly, his eyes on the looping lines of her latest piece as he opened a small plastic bag and lifted a flat canvas out. “I felt bad he had no one around, so I stood there for almost an hour and finally bought two for fifty bucks.”

Recognizing the artwork, she bit back a smile and grabbed the turpentine. “That’s Shane D. He spends ten months a year living off the land in the middle of nowhere, then joins the circuit just long enough to fill his wallet with pity-sales.”

Pushing the piece back into the bag, he grinned at her. “You’re saying I’m a sucker.”

“I’m saying you’re a good man to support Shane and his quest to rid himself of societal restraints.” She laughed, nudging him. “You around all night?”

He nodded and shifted on his heels. “At your beck and call. Hungry?”

“Starving!” Logan announced, crouching alongside him. “They got those double bison burgers at the truck by the cheese shop?”

“Would you like two or three?” Ryan countered, ignoring her protests at his generous offer to feed the bottomless pit which was Logan O’Brien.

“Three, please,” Logan replied, patting her knee as he stood. “It’s hard work being your pool boy.”

Rolling her eyes, she turned to Ryan. “I’d love anything that’s light on the healthy and high on the salt.”

His brows knotted for a moment before he nodded his head. “I’ll be back.”

She did a quick scan of the rooftops as he walked away, getting back to work once she realized the shadow following her was no longer in sight.

*

Ryan held backbehind Micah’s audience, listening as Logan wrapped up the auction for her latest work and waiting for a break in the action before he tried to squeeze his way to the front of the audience again.

He didn’t think it was possible for her to draw a bigger crowd than she’d had at the busking festival, but the number of people vying for a position close enough to see her work proved him wrong.

Watching her from a distance, without the pressure of being caught staring for too long, he was able to discern the dark circles under her eyes he hadn’t noticed in their first meeting. Her makeup remained impeccable, the black lines across her lids perfectly symmetrical and smoothly blended into the bronze shadow, making her eyes appear gold in the evening sun. But despite the deep red of her lipstick and the carefully applied rouge on her cheeks, she looked pale and worn while she fiddled with the stone pendant hanging from the choker around her neck.

Balancing a tray of coffee in one hand and the bags of food in the other, he made his way to her side and began counting out Logan’s burgers.

“How late are you staying?” he asked, opening the wrapper of her Bavarian pretzel and setting it within reach on her table.

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