Page 158 of Beyond the Stroke

I shrug. It’s easy to act like I don’t have a plan. That it’s just for fun, but the reality is I do want more.

“Hey.” He slides a fingertip along the top of my thigh to get my attention. “It can be anything. Dream big.”

The way he’s looking at me with soft interest makes it easy to tell him everything.

“Okay. I want a gallery show. To be able to display my art with confidence.” I smile, Rory’s questions opening ideas in my mind that hadn’t been there before. “It would be impossible to track them down, but it would be cool to see all the Coveys together. To see them as a collection.”

I turn back to the canvas to add a few more brushstrokes to the horizon where the water meets the sky. That’s when I notice the clouds are darker than before.

Then, a fat drop of rain hits my canvas and slides down the length of it.

“Oh shit.” I pop up in a panic.

“Let’s pack up.” Rory rushes to get the rest of the picnic back into the backpack while I hurry to get my paints into their case.

One raindrop soon becomes ten, then a hundred.

“My painting!” It’s still wet but I’m hugging it as close to my chest as I can without causing further damage.

Rory tosses the blanket over me for protection. “Can you run? You’ve got your inhaler?” he asks with concern in his voice.

“Yeah.” I nod.

With my hand in his, he guides me toward the narrow trail.

Even as we move through the dense trees, the rain pelts us hard.

By the time we reach his Jeep, we’re soaked through, clothes clinging to our bodies. The blanket is drenched, but by some miracle, my painting is only moderately damp.

Rory opens the back of the vehicle, giving us a reprieve.

“Get in, get in,” he instructs, so I rush over to the passenger side while he loads our stuff. Inside the car, my skin slides against the leather seat, but it feels good to be out of the chaos of the storm. A moment later, the trunk slams shut and Rory rushes to the driver’s side.

Outside, the rain is coming down in sheets now. We can’t even see out the windshield.

“That came on fast.” I pant, my breath coming in puffs from running and the excitement of it all.

“You good?” he asks.

“Yeah, I just need a minute.” I inhale deeply to slow my breathing.

“From the looks of it, we’re going to be here for a while.”

When our eyes lock across the console, we both start laughing at our appearance.

Rory runs a hand through his hair, the wet, tousled strands making him look sexy as ever.

“How do you look so good right now?” I attempt to push away the wet hair that’s plastered to my forehead. “I’m a mess.”

Rory’s hand slides along my jaw, pushing the rest of the unruly hair out of my face. “You’re perfect.”

I shiver. “I’m freezing.”

“Come here.” He gives my wet shirt a tug, indicating I should join him in the driver’s seat.

“You’re just as wet as I am.”

He reaches for the hem of his soaked t-shirt and pulls it off, tossing it to the floor. “Problem solved.”

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