Page 8 of Howl Me to the Moon
He bent his head down. “You’re making fun of me.”
“Now why would I do that?” I pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “More like I’m wondering what your game is, Rex.”
He raised his arms, palms facing me, and widened his eyes. “No game, Piper.” He shook his head. “Not my style.”
That would be refreshing. And who knew—maybe he was secretly an art collector with a hefty bank account. Since he was interested in the painting…
I gestured toward the art. “Come on.” We navigated through the crowd. I grew acutely aware of his muscular presence beside me, just as I couldn’t ignore how my body reacted to him. A whole lot of tingling action going on. With all the eye action going on last night, I thought our introduction would have a little more flirtation, maybe some playful banter. But no, he barked out monosyllabic words. I realized I was barking up the wrong tree.
Until he showed up again here—and made his appearance known with that attention-getting entrance. I had to give him some credit for his quick attempt at a recovery.
And a part of me was a bit intrigued by the new guy who looked at me with that intense stare. Especially with how his biceps stretched the sleeves of his shirt.
Focus, Piper. The painting. The auctions.
Right, I needed a sale, not a date.
“The paints in this work are absolutely stunning,” I introduced, gesturing to the swirling golds and crimsons on the canvas. “They were enhanced by dragon fire. See how the colors seem to flicker, almost like they’re dancing?”
He leaned in closer, bringing his face down as he studied the painting. “Yeah.”
The tension in his broad shoulders seemed to loosen as he gazed at it, seemingly more relaxed. That was one of the magical aspects of art—it could make you forget all the horrors of the outside world as you found yourself captivated by something beautiful.
Yet, the heat radiating from his body made it difficult to focus on what I was about to say. The scent of pine and sandalwood that emanated from him heightened my senses with an energetic buzz. “Some say they see dragon wings hidden in the swirls. That makes sense as the artist who painted this was the dragon shifter’s mate.”
A strange rumbling sound rolled from Rex. In a strained voice, he muttered, “Mate.”
Odd. “Yes, mate,” I repeated and turned to see him standing up straight and staring at me. Even odder. “The painting's over here, by the way.”
He blinked as if coming out of a trance and faced the art. “Painting, right. Yes, very…fiery.”
Oh, dragon eggs, we were back to flustered conversations again? I bit back a laugh. “You have zero interest in art, do you?”
He adjusted his stance and rubbed at his beard, his expression that of faux intrigue. “What? No, of course I do. Why else would I be here?”
A chuckle burst out, and I couldn’t resist teasing, “Free champagne?” I motioned vaguely toward the crowd, some of whom faked interest in paintings just to get their free glass of bubbly and then booked it out of here.
He groaned. “What an entrance.” His lips spread into a one-sided smile that sent an unexpected zing through my insides. “Don’t tell the band. Please?” His soulful eyes pleaded with me. “They’re already giving me a hard time about last night when I was at a loss for words.”
“You seem to be stringing them along better now,” I said with a playful smile and then bit my lower lip.
Wait a minute—was Iflirting?
Rex fixed his gaze on me. “Something about you, Piper…”
I leaned closer, waiting with expectation to see if he’d finish that sentence.
He didn’t. I could say the same about him. How my body seemed to hum with pleasant heat in response to him—something I couldn’t quite understand myself.
“What do you mean?” I asked. “You just met me.”
“I know.” He snorted, his expression edged with disbelief. Then he shook his head and threw both hands up. “I don’t know what to say.”
I resisted another barb at his conversation skills and instead mimed zipping up my mouth. “Your secret is safe with me, Rex.”
Sloane’s shaggy red hair stood out as he approached with a couple of witches, telling them about the art. His arrival reminded me that I was working and shouldn’t be flirting.
“Feel free to browse,” I told Rex. With a sly smile, I couldn’t resist adding, “Or have more champagne.”
