Page 71 of Arse Over Irish Teacup
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to take you everywhere today.” He was as sorry about that as he would be winning the lottery. This gave him a more than perfect reason to spend more time with her. “I could take you out tomorrow, if you’re free?”
The everyday, considerate, unselfish Bethany Spinner would have said something like “No, I couldn’t possibly impose again. This has been really nice, thanks.” But, this was Ireland Beth and she had just had one of the best days of her life and darnit if she didn’t want more! “Really? Okay! Same time?” That didn’t sound too eager, right?
Aidan nodded. “Same time tomorrow.” He finished his iced tea, thanked her, then ducked out the back door.
A now giddy Beth was bouncing up and down in the kitchen. Everything Aidan showed her that day was amazing! So amazing that it made up for every miserable day she’d had there in Ireland. Lauren was right. Beth needed to stay a little longer. And speaking of Lauren, Beth needed to call her and tell her about her day!
Beth got her phone from her purse and dialed Lauren and was shocked when the call went directly to her voicemail. That wasn’t like Lauren to turn her phone off but there were a hundred reasons the call went to voicemail. Beth would simply call again later. In the meantime, she would try her hand at painting again.
As she picked up her paintbrush, Beth pontificated aloud to Mr. Jameson.
“I don’t know about this friendship thing with Aidan,” she spouted at Mr. Jameson who sat on the window sill with his fluffy tail swaying back and forth. “I’ve never really been friends with a man before but I really like him. He’s nice and funny and attentive.” The cat looked at her and cocked one ear. “Yes, I know, I feel a but coming too, Mr. Jameson.” Beth sighed and swiped some blue onto the canvas. “What about Roan, you ask? He’s nice, and so generous, and handsome too. There isn’t anything bad I can say about Roan. But he feels more like a friend than a boyfriend.” The cat sat up to yell at a bird outside. “I know, I said he was a good kisser and he is, but there weren’t any fireworks, you know? Then again, love isn’t necessarily about fireworks.” Beth dabbed some white paint here and some green there and continued her one-sided conversation.
“When I was ten years old, just before my parents died, I remember getting up at night for a drink and I saw them curled up on the sofa. Mom was laid out stretching her back saying how tired she was. Dad handed her a glass of wine and sat at the foot of the sofa and then he slipped her socks off and rubbed her feet. Then he asked her about her day. It wasn’t long before he had her forgetting all her troubles. They looked so comfortable together … It’s funny, the things you remember.”
ChapterTwenty-Nine
Beth sat backon the stool in front of her painting. A smudge of blue paint across her cheek, a smudge of green down her nose, a swipe of brown here, another of yellow there. A paint brush dangling from her hair. The picture was hideous. She had seen horror films with more attractive scenery. She had tried to paint the view of the sparkling sea from the cliffs. What she actually did was paint something that looked more like Dante’s seventh circle of Hell.
It wasn’t pretty.
She was absolutely horrible at painting!
But man, was it fun!
As she shook her head laughing a knock sounded at the front door. She was in no condition to see anyone. What would they think? Meh, who cares! Beth opened the door and smiled. “Hi Roan. Come on in. I see it stopped raining.”
Roan shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded, trying desperately not to laugh. “Yeah, it quit about an hour ago.” He couldn’t look at her. It was too funny. How did she manage to get a paintbrush stuck in her hair? Was there any paint on the canvas or did she roll in it herself?
It was more than obvious that Roan was about ready to bust a gut so Beth put him out of his misery. “Aren’t you going to ask what I’ve been doing?”
That did it. Roan barked with laughter and was quickly joined in by Beth.
“All right, I believe a promise is a promise? Let’s see what you did.”
She turned on her heel and led him to the art room, where she made him close his eyes and let her lead him into position.
“Okay, open your eyes! Ta-da!”
Roan hid his smirk under his fist. It was … well … you know it kind of reminded him of … it was hideous.
Beth breathed an exaggerated sigh. “You know, I always wanted to paint,” she said as she stepped back to examine her, ah-hem, masterpiece.
Choking on his own laughter, Roan asked, “Why didn’t you?”
“I don’t know. Just busy, I suppose.” Beth threw her hands up then turned to Roan. “I always thought it would make me feel like I was in a Jane Austen novel.”
“And do you?”
She frowned. “No.” Then she smiled wide, laughing. “It’s so much better than that!”
“Are you going to keep painting, you think?”
“No. I think this might just be a something silly I did while on vacation thing.”
“And they say God isn’t real! I tell you.”
Beth sputtered with laughter as she followed him to the kitchen. “Did you stop by just so you could laugh at me?”
