Page 73 of Just Say (Hell) No
“Really,”the woman named April said. “You mean Kane Armstrong is your brother, Nyree?”
“Stepbrother,” she said, with a look at Marko that clearly said,Why?
“You must know all the All Blacks, then,” April said.
“Only some of them,” Nyree said.
April looked disbelieving, which was perfect. Modest, she’d be thinking. Gossip, she’d be hoping. Meeting, she’d be dreaming.
“A bit of a Romeo and Juliet story, the two of us,” Marko went on. “Though to be honest, it was her art that made me fall first. Well, second.” He offered Harold a bland glance. “She’s always been a pretty little thing. But she’s a hell of an artist as well. She’s going to paint my kitten, aren’t you, baby?”
Nyree had stiffened against him. He wasn’t sure if it was the “pretty little thing” or the “baby.” He ignored it.
“You have akitten?”April asked.
Marko took his arm from around Nyree, pulled out his phone, clicked back, and held it out to a close-up of Cat. The women made “Awww” noises, the men looked like their last precious illusion about his masculinity had been shattered, and Nyree made a choking noise like a woman who was having trouble with the giggles once again. Possibly also one who’d drunk a couple more glasses of champagne in the heady aftermath of chaos.
When he was sure everyone was paying attention, Marko said, “But I wanted to ask, sweetheart—could you do her with some flowers around her? On a windowsill, maybe?” He clicked on the phone some more and showed the group the result. “Blue ones, maybe. I’d say red, but you know, red and gray—too much of a Crusaders look to it. Her flowers are her best thing, though, even better than the animals. I’ve got this red one over my couch anyway, though.” He clicked again. “Gorgeous, eh. Got all this… texture, I guess you’d call it. Color.”
The women made appreciative noises, and Nyree’s mouth opened, shut, and opened again. “No,” she finally said. “I’m not painting a kitten with flowers on a windowsill. That would be nothing but… Ugh. No.”
“Oh.” Marko worked on his confused expression, and sent up a prayer of thanks that he wasn’t actually going to have to hang up a painting of a kitten with flowers on a windowsill. “What, then?”
“I can do a suggestion of flowersbehindher,” she said. “Background. Scumbling. Smudged. I can make her look mysterious and graceful that way, instead of like a greeting card.Ugh,Marko.”
“Like you did with the motorcycle!” Savannah said brightly. “For Pookie. How you can tell perfectly that it’s the wheel and the seat there behind him, but when you look up close, it’s just a few strokes, not like a photo at all. That’s soclever.How did you do it?”
“Training,” Nyree said. She wasn’t doing herself any favors, although maybe she was. Maybe this was artistic temperament. Could be better, even. Setting limits.
“Right, then,” Marko said, moving on. “Kitten. Flower background. Smudged. Mysterious. No greeting card. And mine gets done first.”
“Oh,” Savannah said. “But what about Pookie and Precious? The wedding didn’t come off exactly like we planned, but if I had a picture of them, how adorable would that be? And Preciouswasbeautiful, weren’t you, baby?” She lifted the Chihuahua to her cheek and nuzzled her. “Even though Pookie was a very bad boy. But we like our bad boys, don’t we? Soexciting.”
She gave a Marko a look he didn’t have any trouble interpreting, but he didn’t get too fussed. He’d seen that look before. Meant her hubby would be getting extra lucky tonight, that was all. He didn’t take it any further than that in his mind. That wasn’t anyplace he wanted to go.
“I could do Pookie and Precious,” Nyree said. At a nudge from Marko, she added, “Marko hasn’t paid me yet, so…”
“Oh!” Savannah said. “Harold, write Nyree a check, pretty please?”
“A thousand will do,” Nyree said. She sounded cool, but Marko could see the pulse beating like a hummingbird at the base of her throat. “For the pair of them. As you’ll want a larger canvas, I assume.”
“Goody,” Savannah said happily. “I can’t believe you’d make Marko pay, though.”
“Nah,” Marko said. “She thinks I’ll take her for granted otherwise, now that she’s moved in and all.” He picked up her hand, kissed her knuckles, and smiled into her eyes. “No worries, baby. Never happen.”
Nyree breathed easy at last when they were in the car and Marko was pulling away from the curb in a sedate fashion that was going to go even further to destroy his image.
“All those blokes are disappointed,” she told him, torn behind giggles and tears and trying to keep it light. “They’re going to be telling their mates tomorrow that Marko Sendoa has a kitten and a flower painting over his couch and goes around kissing girls’ hands and generally behaving like a soppy fool. And drives a Beetle. Good thing Kane didn’t hear all those things you said. I can’t believe you told them I’d moved in, not that I can see why anybody cares. And when did you take those photos of my flowers?”
“When Ella was in the shower,” he said. “I had a plan. If things had gone the way I meant them to, I’d have sold some of them, too. Pookie has things to answer for beyond destroying his own wedding. Did you do all that painting since I left?”
“No. Not possible. That’s a year’s worth. They take… time.”
“I’d guess. Intricate, I guess you’d call that.”
“Yeh.” She sighed. “Champagne always makes me sleepy. They were stored at Victoria’s. They’re what I used to do, but I wanted them around. And I saw what you tried to do. Thank you.” There. She’d said it. He didn’t have to know what it had done to her when he’d held up those photos of her flowers and talked about them that way.
“Well, yeh,” he said. “Because you’re very good. But you know that.”
