Page 78 of Isabella and the Slipper

Chase kissed her temple. “You told me your father was an artist. What did he do?”

“He was a painter. He grew famous for his technique of painting with his fingers. He taught it to me.”

Chase shifted to look at her face. “You don’t use a brush?”

“No. There’s something more organic about applying the paint directly with your fingers. It makes me feel at one with the art.” She felt a blush creep up her neck. “That’s stupid, huh?”

“No,” he reassured her. “Not at all. That’s cool.” He pulled her back to his chest. “What about your mother?”

“She was a dancer.” Isabella pulled out the worn photograph she kept in her pocket. “This is her senior photo. Her name was Emma.”

Chase took the picture and looked at it. “She was beautiful. You have her eyes.”

Emotion surged in Isabella, and tears blurred her vision. “Really?”

He handed her back the photo. “Definitely.”

Isabella touched the picture. “This is all I have left of her, besides the painting of her my father did that’s locked up in the attic. Elenore threw everything else out.”

“How cruel.”

Isabella couldn’t say anything; her throat was too tight.

“How’s your art going?” Chase’s low voice was close to her ear.

“I wish I still had my phone. I would have taken a picture of the latest one. It’s my favorite yet.”

“Tell me about it.” He ran his thumb over the back of her hand, sending goose bumps over her skin.

“It’s a meadow of wildflowers, a stormy sky above.”

He kissed the top of her head. “I wish I could see it.”

She looked up at him. “Really?”

“Yeah. I love your art.”

She sat up. “Wanna come see it now?”

His eyebrows rose. “You’re asking me if I want to sneak into your bedroom with you?”

She whacked him on the arm. “Just to see the painting, creep.”

He chuckled. “Okay. Let’s go.”

They walked to her house, her nerves sending butterflies into overdrive. This would be the first time she’d shared one of her paintings with a guy she liked. At least, the first time in person. She showed him where to climb to get to her balcony. After they were both up, Chase put his arm around her shoulders.

“This is a great view.”

“My father was a little concerned about living on the edge of a cliff, but I wanted this house, so he bought it.”

“Sounds like a sweet guy.”

She nodded, suddenly emotional. She slid open the sliding-glass door and led him into her room.

“Wow, this is huge.”

“My father let me have the master bedroom.”

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