Nora
Iwoke up this morning to see my easel and a stool set up right outside the four large bedroom windows. Wrapping the bedsheet around my body, I skipped to the sliding door and pulled it open. My rolling cart, filled with my brushes and paints, sat next to the canvas. “He grabbed all my stuff,” I had thought out loud. I’d managed to clean my brushes with the flashlight on my phone. But it was when I couldn’t get the fireplace going on my own that I decided to find shelter at the neighbor’s place.
I’d assumed he’d rush back to the cabin with me and flip a switch or something to get the power going, but instead, he offered me warm, dry clothes and a hot meal. Something I hadn’t even thought about yet. I’d been so concerned with keeping my painting from getting wet, food was an afterthought.
But when I arrived on this man’s doorstep, despite his grumpy exterior, all he did was take care of me. Now I sit on his porch with all of my painting supplies, expected to do nothing but paint while he makes me lunch.
The lights went out, and I stepped right into a damn dream.
image-placeholder
The door slides behind him as he steps out holding a plate in each hand, a roast beef sandwich with melted cheese and some fresh vegetables.
A devilish smirk creeps up my lips. I put the paintbrush in a water cup before hopping off the stool and rushing toward him. “Looks great.”
He hands the plate to me, nodding for me to sit in the wooden chair with the small circle table next to it. I do, smiling in thanks before setting the plate on my lap.
Griffin moves my painting stool over to where I’m sitting before he digs into his own food. “Any idea what you’re painting now?”
I nod with a smile. “It’s more a feeling than a scene.”
He doesn’t say anything, his eyes boring into mine, waiting for an explanation.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I woke up this morning and the colors just started flying and moving around the canvas.” I can’t stop the smile, so I shove another bite of sandwich in my mouth. “Where did you learn to cook?”
“I just like to eat,” he responds before looking at the canvas. “It’s beautiful. You’ve added pink,” he notes, and I love the way he pays attention. Inconveniently, I’m loving everything he’s done in the last twenty-four hours.
“Mhmm. So, what happens on Monday?”
His brows pull down in the center while he finishes his bite of food. “What do you mean?”
“I just want to be completely transparent.” I wave a hand between us, feeling like a total cliché having the what are we talk. His brow raises, humor written across his lips. “I leave on Monday. Should I wait for you to ask for my number, or will I never see you again?”
“I wouldn’t say never,” he responds before shoving the last of his sandwich in his mouth. I watch as he chews, waiting for him to say something else. Because I can’t believe that’s all he’s going to give me.
“I mean, I know we’ve only known each other for, like, a day.” I scan the plate he gave me, pushing a fresh carrot to the right, my hesitation growing. Maybe this connection I’m feeling is only skin-deep for him. “But I want to get to know you better.”
“Well, let’s change that,” he says, standing from his stool and setting it back by my easel. “We can start simple. What’s your favorite color?” His gaze is set on my painting when he asks me, and a zing bursts through my chest.
“Cyprus,” I respond, brushing the crumbs from my hands. “It’s a deep green.”
He points to a color on my canvas. “This one?”
“Close.” I set my plate down on the small table to my right.
He nods. “I’m color-blind.”
My brows shoot to my hairline. I don’t know that I’ve met anyone who was color-blind before. I know it’s really common, though. Especially in men.
“It’s just purples and blues that blend together when they’re close to each other.”
“There are different types?”
He nods, stepping back and leaning against the log siding of his home. “Red, green—which I assume makes driving difficult—blues and greens, all different variations.” “I didn’t know that.” I step closer to him. “So do you have a favorite color?”
“Oddly enough, it’s purple, but like a wildflower.”
Over the next hour, we spend time talking and learning about each other while we clean up from lunch. I help him make his bed while finding out his favorite movie is Lord of the Rings, he worked at a pizzeria for fifteen years, and he has two sisters, both of whom live out of state and he hasn’t seen in over five years. Bob, the owner of the cabin I rented, is like a father figure to Griffin, and he’s the only person in the world who gets to call him Griff.
By the afternoon, we’re both reading together, snuggled on his couch, when he asks me, “Can I have your number, Nora?”
I lift my head to see his face, the look of contemplation settled in his features. “Really?” I sit up, turning to face him on the couch.
He places a bookmark between the pages before dropping the book on the coffee table. “I’m not a city man.” He knows I’m from Milwaukee and have lived there most of my life. “But I don’t think three hours is a bad drive, and I’d definitely like to see you again.”
I can’t help but bite my lip. “Really?”
He lets out a dry chuckle, pushing a stray curl behind my ear. “You said that already.”
Who would have thought a getaway to focus on painting would have ended up this way. I found so much more than inspiration here on Lake Bluff. I found a sexy man full of surprises and dare I say it, romance. There is so much more to Griffin and I look forward to finding out all I can. It’s crazy but this feeling inside of me tells me that this has the potential to last.
My gaze moves to the large windows looking out at what seems like nothing but wilderness. The deck that sits to the left and the single chair that resides there. I could see myself with this man, sitting on that deck, with two chairs instead of one, a book in my hand and happiness in my heart.
Griffin
Monday morning dawns, and I grip the brown handle of her luggage and swing it into the back of my truck with a thunk. “How did you travel with this stuff on the way up?” I ask, looking at the large painted canvases she put into protective cloth covers.
“I had to request an SUV.” She shrugs. “It’s a little extra, but it’s worth it.”
I don’t like the idea of her having to spend more money just to come up here. “Next time I’ll just come get you,” I say without thinking.
A smile graces her lips as she pulls the zipper on the canvas bag and sets it against the truck. Her steps toward me are quick and excited. “Next time?” She throws her arms over my shoulders, showing off her perfectly white teeth.
We talked about this yesterday; this isn’t the last we will see of each other. We are going to keep things casual for a bit but attempt a long-distance thing. I’ll drive down to Milwaukee, and she will travel back up to me.
We will see how it’ll go.
“Planning for next time already?”
Her words have me fighting a smirk at the corner of my mouth as I grip her waist. “Maybe.”
“You miss me already?” A glint in her eye tells me she’s enjoying this a little too much.
But it doesn’t annoy me like it would if anyone else did it. Instead, I lean down and press a quick kiss to her soft lips. “I’m definitely going to miss you.” My palm slaps down against her jeans covered ass, and she yelps in response before leaning into me.
Her lips move against mine as she speaks. “Casual.”
“Casual,” I echo.
My thumb runs across the small of her back, the exposed skin warm beneath my touch, but the glint in her eye dims with what I assume is disappointment. I understand how she feels. But we’ve only known each other for a weekend, so it would be insanity to consider anything else.
Right?
Her hazel eyes gleam with consideration as she bites the inside of her bottom lip, contemplating the words before they come out of her mouth.
“Spit it out,” I say through a chuckle.
“Casual or not, this weekend has been amazing.”
I nod, agreeing with her. “It has been.”
“I’ve never felt this way with anyone else so quickly.” The corner of her mouth curves into a smile, and my heart feels like it’s ready to lift right out of my chest. “I’m yours, Griffin. This is going to work out, I can feel it.”
I smirk, the certainty in her voice filling with pride and something else that I can’t seem to put into words. If this were anyone else, in any other situation, I’d tell her she was being ridiculous. I don’t believe in fortune tellers or magic, but being with Nora the last few days… I feel something, and whatever it is, it’s powerful and consuming.
Normally, it’s an emotion I’d push away. Yet I find myself holding on to it for dear life. My gaze bounces between hers. “Me too,” I say before leaning down to press my lips against hers. The smell of honey and almonds fills me, and I commit it to memory, something to last me until we see each other again. Her hand presses against the side of my face, a smile blooming on her face. “I’ve never been more grateful for a visitor on Lake Bluff.”
THE END