Chapter Four #2
She went back with a clean, damp brush and faded out the greenery.
Five minutes later, the painting was complete.
She’d just sat on her heels to see if any touch-ups were required when there was a click, and a bright flash lit up the garden.
She startled, the movement causing her to fall off her heels and onto her butt in a rosebush.
She groaned at the thought of calling Sage to bail her out tonight of all nights and decided to brazen it out.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Officer. But I have the owner’s permission—” She cut herself off with an ouch when thorns embedded themselves in the palm of the hand she’d used to lever herself up and out of the bush.
“Hang on,” said a familiar, deep voice.
She whipped her gaze to the lane. “Flynn? What are you doing here?” Her eyes widened when she saw what he was attempting. “No. Stay where you are. You’ll”—she bowed her head—“crush the flowers.”
“Don’t worry. No one will know,” he said before leaning over and scooping her into his arms.
“I’m pretty sure the flowers know that you killed them, but if you were talking about the owners of the garden, Liz will know too.”
“I promise. She won’t. ‘Stella d’Oro’ daylilies make up a third of my dad’s garden. I’ll go dig some up and have them replanted before sunrise.”
She glanced from the trampled yellow and gold flowers to the stars glittering in the night sky. It had yet to lighten. “What time is it?”
“Two thirty. I have plenty of time.” He glanced around. “Now let’s get you out of here so no one discovers you’re J.R.” He looked down at her. “You are trying to keep your street-artist identity secret, aren’t you?”
“I am, and I appreciate you…” She waved her hand, indicating him holding her in his arms. “Whatever this is you’re doing.”
His lips twitched. “I was attempting to rescue you from the rosebush, but…” He looked down and winced. “I seem to be making things worse.”
“What flower did you just behead?”
He lifted his foot. “A gerbera daisy. Dad doesn’t have any in his garden, so I might have to steal a couple from the neighbors.”
“Put me down. I know a way out that won’t endanger any more innocent flowers.” He slowly lowered her to her feet, which left her pressed to his side and in danger of taking out more flowers if she moved left, right, or backward.
“Let’s try it this way.” She flattened herself against him, desperately trying to ignore the feel of his hard body pressed against her. The heat and sensual woodsy fragrance emanating off him left her slightly light-headed.
Off limits , she reminded herself as she wrapped her arms around his waist, realizing as she did so that it was a big mistake. She should have let the flowers fend for themselves.
“Are we dancing under the moonlight?” he asked, sounding amused.
“No, you’re walking carefully backward toward the rock so I can get my things, and then I’m leading you out of here.” She placed her bare feet on top of his sneakers.
Glancing up, she met his gaze. She recognized the desire in his eyes.
It surprised her. She was six years older than him.
She wasn’t hard on the eyes, but she was nowhere near as beautiful as her sister.
He rested his hands on her hips before taking a careful step backward.
He was right. The slow and sensuous movement of her body against his made it feel like a dance.
He reached out and grabbed her canvas bag off the top of the rock, handing it to her.
She looped it over her shoulder and moved to step off his sneakers, but he held her in place.
“You forgot the lantern and a brush, and there’s not enough room for both of us.
” He angled his head. “We don’t have time to waste. ”
She was about to ask him what he meant when she heard the drone of voices down the lane. “Hurry!” she whispered.
He shuffled her into position.
Hooking the fingers of her left hand into his belt loop, she leaned backward, scooping up the brush and lantern. He groaned, and her gaze shot down the lane as she straightened. No one was there.
She met his eyes, a question in hers.
He cleared his throat. “You’re, uh, very flexible.”
“Yoga,” she murmured, then quietly directed him onto the path she’d taken through the garden earlier. She barely had time to grab her sneakers and his hand before the two men walking down the lane appeared. Gia and Flynn flattened their backs against the house, hiding in the shadows.
“Hey, look at that,” one of the men said, a beam of light illuminating the garden. “It’s one of J.R.’s paintings.”
“J.R.? Like the guy from Dallas ?” the other man asked.
“Who?”
“You know, Who shot J.R. ?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. But I’m talking about the painting on the rock. Look. It’s the same artist who painted the mural on Surfside. J.R.”
Gia burrowed into Flynn.
“That’s pretty cool,” the other guy said. “Whoever the artist is, they’ve got talent. I wonder why they waste it painting for free?”
The light went out, the men’s voices fading as they continued down the lane trying to guess her motivation for becoming a street artist.
Before stepping away from the side of the house, Gia leaned forward to make sure that no one else was coming down the lane. “I think it’s safe,” she told Flynn.
He nodded, then lifted his chin at the path. “I’ll walk you home.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” He glanced at her. “Unless you’d prefer that I didn’t.”
“No, it’s fine,” she said as they walked down the path. “What were you doing down here anyway?”
He removed his phone from the pocket of his cargo shorts and held it up. “Photographing Sunshine Bay at night. It’s a hobby of mine. Photography, not photographing Sunshine Bay at night,” he said with a self-conscious smile.
“You won’t share the photograph you took of me, will you? Even with Willow? I don’t want anyone to know.”
“Of course not. I’d like to keep it, but if you want me to, I’ll delete it.”
“I don’t know why you took it of me in the first place.”
“A gorgeous woman sitting among the flowers with the moon shining down on her? I don’t know who could have resisted taking a photo of you in that moment.
I am sorry I startled you, though. I should have realized I would have.
You were completely absorbed in your painting.
” He held up his camera, the picture of her on the screen.
“I don’t think I did you justice. I took a couple without the flash.
” He swiped the screen. “And then I took this one.”
She leaned in, viewing the photos objectively. “I like the composition and contrast. You have a good eye.” She swiped through the other photos. “This one’s cool. I like how you captured the moon.” She nudged him with a smile. “Imagine what you could do with an actual camera.”
He laughed. “I have an actual camera. I recently retired my old Nikon and splurged on a Sony a7 IV.” He nodded at the sand. “Do you want to sit for a minute?”
“Sure.” She followed him to a spot just down from her apartment. The glow from the lamp she’d left on in her studio window cast a circle in the sand.
“The reason I didn’t have my camera on me was because I hadn’t planned on taking photos tonight.” He leaned back on his hands, crossing his sneakered feet at the ankles.
“No?”
“No. I didn’t like how we left things earlier. Willow had mentioned that you sometimes paint late at night so I walked down this way in the hope you might still be up. I wanted to apologize.”
“You have nothing to apologize for, Flynn. It’s me. I overreacted with both you and Willow. I’m sorry.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She laughed. “No, thanks. I’ve talked about my sister enough for one night.”
“Okay. How about you tell me why you decided to become a street artist? Because, Gia, Willow has shown me some of your work, and you really are incredibly talented.” He raised a hand when Gia opened her mouth.
“Don’t get me wrong, the mural on Surfside, the one you did on the public library, and this one tonight, they’re amazing too, but those guys are right.
You’re giving away your talent for free. ”
“Maybe, but I haven’t felt like this in years. I think it’s the anonymity. It’s freeing. No expectations, no pressure. I was blocked before, never satisfied with what I painted, and now…” She smiled. “I’m having fun again.”
“I get that, I guess. But from what Willow said, you were on your way to quite a career before you gave it up for them.”
Gia frowned. “Is that what Willow said?”
“Yeah. It sounded like she and Sage feel the same way.”
At one point in her life, Gia had thought she could at least make a decent living from her art.
She’d had a showing at an exclusive gallery in New York City.
The gallery’s owner had been vacationing in Sunshine Bay and had seen her work in one of the local galleries.
Her future had seemed so bright and full of promise then.
“Well, they’re wrong. It had nothing to do with them.” And everything to do with her ex. “But my mom, my sister, and I are partners in La Dolce Vita. The restaurant is my main focus now. This”—she waved her hand at the Harrises’ garden—“is for fun.”
“You might be doing it for fun, but from what I’ve seen, you’re bringing joy to the people lucky enough to receive the gift of one of your murals.”
“Thank you,” she said, touched. “Maybe you’d like to tell my mother that. She says the murals are an eyesore. She’s on a campaign to have them removed.”
“Seriously? No wonder you want to stay anonymous. Who is J.R., anyway?”
“Me, and yes, before you say it, Gia does begin with a G . But when I was younger, I hated my name as much as I hated the old-fashioned dresses our nonna insisted we wear to school. All I wanted was to fit in, so I called myself Jane and insisted everyone do the same. Not my nonna, bisnonna, or mother, obviously. But by sixth grade, I was ready to embrace my heritage and who I was and went back to Gia. It’s so long ago I doubt anyone remembers so I felt safe signing my work as J.R. ”
“You are as beautiful as your name, Gia Rosetti.” He reached for her hand, gently rubbing at the speckles of paint with his thumb. “Any chance you’d go out with me?”
“You want to go out with me? Like on a date?”
“Well, I did, but you sound horrified by the idea so maybe forget I said anything.”
“No, not horrified, just… Flynn, I’m six years older than you.”
He frowned. “So, what’s that got to do with anything? You’re a gorgeous, interesting woman I enjoy talking to, and I got the impression you enjoyed talking to me too.”
“I do, very much. It’s just that you’re my sister’s ex and my daughter’s father.” She lifted a shoulder.
“And?”
She stared at his strong features bathed in shadows and light and tried to force a no past her lips, but he was so gorgeous and sexy and interesting, and interested in her, that instead she said, “Yes. Okay. I’ll go out with you. But no one can know. It has to be our secret, Flynn.”