Page 90 of Pucking Tangled
Skeeter automatically stood and wagged his tail.
“Hey, boy. Can I borrow Auntie Mia for a few? Go find your dad,” he told the dog with a pat on his head.
Mia set down her text book and stretched her arms over her head. Summer classes had begun earlier in the week and Mia had been too distracted with course work to focus on much of anything else.
“Is everything okay?” Mia asked.
“Yeah. I…uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I have something I’d like to show you.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh.”
“Come with me.” He held out his hand.
She hesitated only for a second before she took it and stood.
Waylon led her through the backyard, making sure to close the gate behind them, and across the driveway tohisgarage.
It was quiet when they stepped inside. Cooler than the mildly humid evening air outside.
It smelled of turpentine, graphite, and the faint scent of cedarwood from a half-finished frame near the door.
He said nothing, giving Mia time to take it all in.
He looked around, trying to see things from her point of view for the first time.
Sketchbooks stacked in uneven piles around the room. Empty coffee mugs with paint brushes sticking out of them like flowers in vases. Canvases propped against every wall, some covered, some exposed. Charcoal dust clung to the floor. A half broken easel leaned drunkenly in the corner from a night when he was too angry to focus and almost destroyed more than just it.
She moved forward with delicate steps as she explored his private space.
On the far wall was a portrait in oil.
Full color.
Layered brushwork.
Her face, soft in sleep, one arm curled under her cheek, mouth slightly parted. He’d painted it from memory after the first time he’d seen her napping on the couch, Skeeter curled at her feet, peace written in every line of her body.
It wasn’t sexual. It wasn’t even romantic.
But itwasintimate.
He knew the minute she saw it. Her breath hitched and she whispered his name.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he said quietly, finally closing the door behind them. “At first it was just study sketches. Quick lines. I tend to do that when I’m trying to learn someone.”
She turned to him, brows lifted. “You were trying to learnme?”
He shoved a hand through his hair and gave a breathless laugh. “Figured if I couldn’t say what I was feeling, maybe I could draw it instead.”
“These are amazing, Waylon. You’re extremely talented.” Mia spun around the, quickly trying to take in every piece of art work she hadn’t yet explored.
She moved toward a table covered in unfinished projects, running her fingers along the edge of it. It wasn’t long before her gaze landed on another canvas. It was a rough sketch, but still unmistakably her curled up on one of the kitchen chairs in her favorite hoodie and sipping coffee.
She traced over the lines he’d drawn with an unreadable expression on her face.
He swallowed hard, his nerves trying to get the best of him. “I see you, Blondie. Even when you feel invisible.”
Mia looked back at him over her shoulder with a smilethat nearly knocked his entire world off its axis. “I could kiss you right now, Waylon Ryan.”
