Page 67 of Blank Canvas

My favorite smile lights up her face. “Yeah, you do have a thing for watching me.”

So she has noticed the way I can’t look away from her. Howlonghas she noticed?

“Is that so?”

“Mm-hmm.” Her finger draws circles on my pec. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you at the shop. Or in the museum. Or the park.” She licks her lips. “And every other time before we decided to be more than friends.”

Part of me is embarrassed she noticed every time I studied her face longer than normal. No wonder she was confused. My words constantly told her one thing while my actions said the complete opposite. The other part of me is delighted that she read the signs the way she did. That she didn’t shove me away, that she gave me room to breathe. To figure out how to move forward with her. To clear some of my past demons and make room for her light.

The back of my knuckles brush along her cheekbone. I kiss her forehead, the tip of her nose, her lips. Press my forehead to hers. “Glad I didn’t scare you off.” Another kiss to her lips; this one deeper, potent, ravaging.

“Never.” Out of nowhere, she straightens her spine. “Shit,” she hisses and breaks free of my arms. She bolts to the stove, fiddles with the knob, and stirs what I assume are eggs. “Oh, thank goodness.”

I step up behind her and peer over her shoulder. “All good?” My lips drop to her neck.

“Yeah.” She melts into my touch. “Breakfast will be done in a few, if you want to set up a place to eat.”

I kiss her neck again. “On it.”

The dining room rarely gets used, but today I want to sit with Shelly and share a meal at the table. Add touches of her to yet another room in the house. Maybe after breakfast, if I gather up enough nerve, I will walk her up the stairs and show her my studio. The only space she has yet to see, for good reason. Weeks ago, the sight of my studio—her face and likeness on several pieces of canvas and stock—may have sent Shelly running for the hills. Now, she may accept my obsession with more grace.

Shelly walks into the dining room with two loaded plates, sets them down, and turns back for the kitchen. Before I get the chance to ask if she needs help, she returns with two mugs of tea.

“This looks wonderful.” I scan the plate of cheesy southwestern scrambled eggs, bacon, tangerine segments, and toast with sliced avocado. “Thank you for making breakfast.”

Heat pinks her cheeks as she shrugs. “No big deal. Just wanted to do something nice for you.” With both hands, she brings the mug to her lips and sips her tea. “Plus, I might be in love with your kitchen.”

It is on the tip of my tongue to invite her to use my kitchen every day of the week. But jumping on that bandwagon prematurely probably isn’t the best idea. Still, I open my mouth and abbreviate the idea.

“You’re welcome to use it whenever you like.”

Her eyes drop to her plate.Shit.Stepped over the line anyway.Dammit.But then I catch the corners of her mouth as they tip up. That small action steals every worry I felt seconds ago and fills me with jubilation.

I devour each bite, and it isn’t long before I pat my stomach and push my plate away. “So good. If you’re not careful, you’ll cook all the meals.”

Shelly rolls her eyes. “Ha ha.” She sips her tea then sets her mug down. “Aside from the occasionalwhen will you get married and give me grandchildrenmoments, my mom is pretty great. She’s no kitchen guru but made sure we knew basics before moving out. Her lessons stuck with me, but not so much with my brother.”

“So what you’re saying is the kitchen is his archnemesis.”

She laughs. “Once upon a time, yes. But since meeting his now wife, he’s putting in the time and effort to learn.”

We sit in silence for a beat, both of us letting our full bellies settle while we sip tea. And I can’t help but think how much I love this. Sitting here, across the table from Shelly, eating breakfast, sipping tea, having casual conversation, enjoying each other’s company. I also can’t stop thinking about how I want this with her more often than not.

“I want to show you something,” I say, eyes on hers.

“Okay. Just give me a minute to clean up.”

“No.” My chair legs scrape the wood floor as I rise to my feet. “Leave it. We’ll clean up after.”

I offer my hand and she takes it, standing from her seat. “O-okay.”

With a deep breath, I walk to the left and up the staircase. There is only one room when you reach the top. My studio. And I am about to expose the biggest piece of myself to her. Something I have never done with another soul.

TWENTY-THREE

SHELLY

Slowly,we ascend the stairs. With each step up, Devlyn’s breathing quickens. His grip on my hand tightens. This isn’t just his studio he is leading me up to. ThisisDevlyn. The inner workings of his mind. Him expressing all the things he can’t find a voice for.

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