Page 7 of Her Naughty Soldier

"Yeah, seems like it," I reply, pausing to sip my drink. The idea of letting someone in, of risking the kind of pain she described, is unfamiliar territory. "But maybe it's not too late to change that. To take a chance on something new."

Her smile grows, and it's contagious. I find myself smiling back, the idea of 'new' suddenly not so daunting. "Maybe you're right. Life's too short to hold back, isn't it?"

"Absolutely." I agree, feeling a shift within myself, a door opening to new possibilities.

We continue eating, the conversation flowing easily now, a mix of lightness and depth that leaves me thinking maybe, just maybe, it's time to rethink my stance on relationships.

Chapter 4

Lily

Themorninglightspillsover the community outreach center, casting a warm, golden glow that makes the colors on my mural pop. It's early, but I'm already deep in my element, my brush dancing across the large wall with confident strokes.

I step back, admiring the cityscape I've been bringing to life on the wall, a vibrant blend of real and whimsical elements. It's a depiction of Larkspur, but through a lens of color and imagination. This isn't like working in my studio, confined by four walls and the pressure of my upcoming show. Here, it's about making a difference, adding a splash of color to the everyday lives of those who visit this place. I can't help but smile, feeling a sense of accomplishment already.

My thoughts drift to Ethan, who I gave a ride to again this morning. The memory of him sitting in my car, his strong, stoic presence filling the space, lingers in my mind. He's so different from anyone I've ever known—those deep-set hazel eyes that seem to hold so many stories, that strong jawline that tightens when he's deep in thought. And that body, honed by military discipline, it's impossible not to notice.

But with every thought of him comes a reminder—he's off-limits, Jake's best friend. I shouldn't be thinking about him this way. Yet, as I dip my brush into the paint, I can't help but wonder what it would be like to break those rules just once.

Shaking my head, I refocus on the mural. It's important to stay professional, to keep my thoughts from wandering too far. This mural is my contribution, my way of giving back, and I won't let anything distract me from that. Not even Ethan Spencer, no matter how undeniably attractive he may be.

Which is easier said than done when I spot him rounding the corner toward me.

"Hey, Ethan," I greet him, brush in hand. "Finished with your group?"

"Yeah, they're a real energetic bunch," he responds, his eyes scanning the mural. "This is really something, Lily. Makes the whole place come alive."

I can't help but beam with pride. "Thanks! Just trying to decide on something for this part," I gesture to the incomplete section.

He leans in, pretending to scrutinize my work. "How about something like this?" he teases, picking up a wet paintbrush and playfully dabbing a dot of paint on my nose.

I gasp in mock outrage, laughing. "Oh, it's on now!" I retort, dipping my brush into a bright blue and flicking it towards him. The paint lands on his cheek, leaving a vibrant streak.

Ethan laughs, a sound that's deep and genuine. He retaliates with a splash of green, which lands in my hair. "You asked for it!"

What starts as a few playful flicks of paint soon escalates into a full-blown paint fight. We're dodging, laughing, and painting each other more than the wall. At one point, Ethan twirls me around, and I end up with a splash of red across my shirt.

Breathless from laughter, we eventually call a truce. I lean against the half-finished mural, my heart racing with a mix of excitement and something else—something that feels a lot like attraction. Ethan stands across from me, a streak of blue paint across his cheek, looking every bit as dashing as he is out of place in the world of art and colors.

I take a deep breath, gathering my courage. There's something I've been wanting to ask him, but the thought of it sends a swarm of butterflies through my stomach.

"Ethan," I start, trying to sound casual despite the nerves dancing in my voice. "There's an art gallery exhibit tonight. I was thinking of going... Would you like to join me?"

He pauses, wiping his hands on his jeans, leaving a smudge of green. "An exhibit, huh?" he says, a hint of curiosity in his tone. "Sure, why not? It sounds interesting."

I try to hide my relief, playing it cool. "Great! It's nothing fancy, just a local thing. Be ready at 7:00?"

"Sounds good," he replies with a nod, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

As we part ways to clean up, I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. I've just invited Ethan Spencer, the man who's been occupying my thoughts far too much lately, to an event where one of my own pieces is on display. It's nerve-wracking and thrilling all at once.

As we step through the gallery doors, the ambiance shifts from the cool, serene outdoors to a bustling, vibrant interior. The gallery's walls are adorned with various pieces of art, each telling its own story. The low murmur of cultured conversations fills the air, accompanied by the subtle notes of a classical piece playing in the background.

We're greeted almost immediately by the gallery owner, a woman in her mid-fifties with an air of refined elegance. Her eyes light up as she sees me. "Lily! I'm so glad you could make it," she exclaims, her voice a mix of warmth and professionalism. "And you've brought company! Who is this handsome gentleman?"

Ethan, ever the polite soldier, extends his hand. "Ethan Spencer," he introduces himself. Even in this relaxed setting, his posture speaks of discipline and respect.

The owner's smile broadens. "A pleasure, Ethan. Lily, your piece has been creating quite the buzz. Fingers crossed for an offer!”

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