Page 42 of The Bad Boy's Homecoming
She just nodded and tucked the shell in her pocket.Neither of them spoke as they walked back.It was almost dusk, and the house was quiet.Missy headed right to the sunroom and placed the shell on a table she kept her brushes on, then she picked up her sketch pad and pencils.Sitting in the wingback chair, she studied the shell for a moment before her hand started to move with the pencil over the page.
Levi couldn’t name it, but he was certain something had shifted between them on the beach.She’d been open with him about her story and vulnerable about her pain.Not only had she let him kiss her, but she’d latched on to their passion, even in her pain, and kissed him back.She was quickly becoming someone he wanted to know everything about and to protect.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Missy
Something New
Missy’s hand flewover the pages, but no matter how hard she tried to capture the exact shape of the shell and the colors, each one seemed to lack something.She could hear Levi banging around in the kitchen and wondered what he was making but didn’t ask.They’d been living in this house together, and around each other for a week now, and she was getting too comfortable around him.It had been shocking when he kissed her but it also instantly lit a fire deep inside that worried her.She’d struggled her entire life with the idea that emotional attachments would always cause her pain.Because it had rung true her entire life.Her mother, Aunt Honey, and then her boyfriend in law school.
“Why on earth are these on the floor?”Mrs.Hart’s groggy voice startled her as she sat staring at her sketchbook but not really seeing it.
“Oh, they’re not right,” she said looking down at the pages she’d pulled from the sketch pad and strewn on the floor like some mad scientist.
Mrs.Hart had scooped up several of the sketches and held them delicately by the edge of the pages.“Darlin’, if you were trying to sketch a potato I would agree these are not right.But if you were trying to sketch a detailed conch shell that looks like it has come alive off the page, then you nailed it.”
“I don’t like them,” Missy said, looking down at several more she’d tossed aside.
“I’ll take that bet.We’ll post these on your site as works in progress and see if they sell.When I prove I’m right, you take me out to lunch.”
“Mrs.Hart, people don’t want a pencil sketch of a shell.”
“Are you telling me you’ve never seen an artist’s pencil drawn sketch displayed in, say, the Louvre, or sold for millions by some hoity-toity auctioneer?”Mrs.Hart tsked.“You may be an art savant, but you still have a lot to learn about this business.People want to see your sketches, and you know what else they want to see?You.Your story, your process, your studio.”Mrs.Hart shuffled around the well-lit room, with glass window panes, and art hanging on each wall.
“I don’t want to share every aspect of my art,” Missy said, with more annoyance than she realized she felt.
Mrs.Hart just smiled like she’d tricked her into admitting something.
“Gran, Dalton just pulled up.You’ll have to pick on our patient later,” Levi said.
Mrs.Hart picked up the rest of the sketches and carefully placed each one on the nearby table where Missy usually made the frames for each piece of art.
“Wow, these are amazing,” Levi said as Dalton walked into the sunroom studio.
Dalton was still in his scrubs and he stopped near the table to get a look at the sketches as well.
“I bet you already bought these out from under me too,” Dalton said.“Missy, I’ll double his offer.”
“They aren’t for sale,” she muttered and stood.“But I’ll give them all to you Dr.Hart, if you promise cleaning my hand won’t hurt today.”
She faced three sets of blue eyes that all looked familiar and unique at the same time.
“It hurts,” she admitted.
“I actually can promise it won’t hurt as much once we’re done, because I brought numbing spray and a higher dose of medication.I thought you might be tired of toughing it out by now,” Dalton said.
“You don’t have to look so smug about it,” Missy said.
Levi laughed.“Oh you haven’t known my brother long enough if you think he can be anything but smug.”
“Really, maybe it runs in the family,” Missy said, and almost crossed her arms but then remembered her hand ached and just held it up in front of her.
“Alright come on, let’s get you out of some pain,” Dalton said.
He ushered her into the kitchen and set out a sterile pad then laid out all the supplies he’d brought to clean her hand.He also set down a new prescription for her.
“Take one now, and again every eight hours, as needed.Ideally with food, or you’ll get a stomachache.”
