Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Out in the backyard, I draw the last shape on my sketch. It’s a scene of a rowboat on the shore of the lake with the sun rising in the background. The water is made of squiggly circles and, from the corner of my eye, appears to move.
I’m calling my drawings sketches instead of doodles after I spoke to a professional artist yesterday. She told me I need to approach my work like a business. Apparently, doodles isn’t a professional term. The jury is still out on whether or not I believe I’ll thrive with an art career.
For the first time in my life, I’m not confident I’ll succeed. It’s scary, yet surprisingly freeing. I’m not pursuing art because I should, but because I really enjoy it and it makes me happy.
Last night, I went online and signed up for an art class at the community college, as well as a CAD course. I learned during one of my midnight Internet searches that some of the patterned drawings I’ve made could be used to create textiles—who knew? And CAD is a requirement for fabric art.
Whorls of heat rise from the cement patio in the late morning sun. It’s only eleven and already I’m sweating in my pajama bottoms and bikini top.
My phone buzzes. I dig it out from where it migrated beneath my thigh on the lounge chair. My smile grows a mile wide when I see who it’s from.
Jaeger: Dinner this evening?
Cali: Sure.
Jaeger: I’m taking you to Tao. Plan accordingly. I’ll pick you up at 5. I have something I want to show you.
Immediately, my mind wanders into naughty territory. But he wouldn’t plan that and then expect me to be presentable, would he? Tao is the best restaurant in town.
What to wear? I pick up my sketch and pad barefoot back into the house. It’s quiet for once. Both Gen and Tyler left early for various reasons.
Shoving the hangers around in my closet, I find nothing that won’t embarrass me in a nice restaurant. I have a couple of hours to spare before my date with Jaeger. I’ll swing by the local shops and see if I can find a new top on my limited budget.
My financial reserves are dwindling, but I don’t have a fifty-thousand-dollar annual tuition fee to worry about anymore. I’ll need a job to pay for living expenses and the classes I signed up for, but I’m optimistic that won’t be a problem with my work experience from Blue.
Later that night, I slip on heels, black pants, and a short-sleeved, light blue blouse with a crisscross back that I found on sale at my favorite boutique.
The color offsets my hair and highlights my eyes, and the front dips low.
It also shows a respectable amount of cleavage, except I’m wearing a push-up bra, so the effect is just shy of obscene.
I feel a slight twinge at spending money when I don’t have a job, but now that I have a plan, I’ll start looking for work straight away.
I walk into the living room, where Gen and Tyler are fighting over the remote.
“You’re here rent-free!” Gen says. “You don’t get control of the remote too.”
“We’re not watching What Would William Pelt Do? I might as well de-ball myself right here.”
Gen lifts a finger, her eyes closed. “A—that’s gross. B—William Pelt is a hockey player. He’s an athlete. You love sports!”
Tyler looks to me in exhaustion.
“Leave me out of this,” I say. “Gen, if he doesn’t let you watch the show, we’ll Netflix it later. William Pelt is hawt.” Not as hot as Jaeger, but then again, no one is.
“Tyler,” Gen singsongs, “if you let me watch this, I’ll make you popcorn.”
His hand darts out and he tickles her under the arm. She screams, and he grabs the remote while she’s disabled. “Dude, you’re gonna have to offer more than popcorn to get this back.”
Gen glares at him, rubbing her armpit. Tyler’s tickles hurt like hell. He burrows deep. “You have the mental maturity of a sixteen-year-old. How do your students take you seriously?”
“I’ve got skills to pay the bills,” he says, and flips through channels.
“I take that back. You’re, like, ten, because I haven’t heard that juvenile statement since fifth grade.
” Gen sighs and checks the time on the wall impatiently.
A new episode must begin soon. “Fine, I’ll do a load of laundry.
” Tyler keeps flipping. “Two loads?” Her face brightens and she crosses her arms. “I’ll set you up with one of the cocktail waitresses at Blue. ”
Tyler stops channel surfing and eyeballs her. I grab my purse and steal a twenty from his wallet when he’s not looking. He wouldn’t want me stranded without cash. I’m doing him a favor by planning ahead. “Keep talking,” he says.
“One of the pretty ones.” Her expression is all innocence in a way only Genevieve can pull off, but I know better. She may not have gotten straight A’s in school like Tyler and me, but that girl has street smarts.
All the exceptionally pretty waitresses at Blue are as dumb as rocks—not that pretty girls are necessarily mentally hindered. Gen is an example of gorgeous and intelligent mixed in one, but in the case of the other Blue waitresses, the stereotype holds true.
“Done,” he says, and hands her the remote. She does a victory dance on the couch, complete with bouncing and fist pumping. Tyler stares at her chest, his rapt expression indicating the victory dance alone was worth the sacrifice. Gross.
A knock sounds at the door. My heart speeds up. “Okay, kids, I’m off.” I lunge for the knob. I’m not ashamed of Jaeger or our relationship. I’d just rather not face “the parents” on the couch.
Too late.
“And when will you be home?” Tyler asks, his domestic debate forgotten. I glance back and he’s scrutinizing me. He eyes my cleavage and frowns.
“If I’m lucky, not till tomorrow. Toodle-oo!” I pinky-wave and open the door. Stepping out, I bump into a confused Jaeger and yank the door shut. I slump against the surface. “Don’t go in there. It’s dangerous.”
He chuckles. “Okay.” He grabs my hand and leans down, kissing me softly on the lips. My belly flutters just from that one delicate touch. His gaze dips to my top, catching appreciatively on my chest. He looks at the rest of my outfit and smiles. “You look beautiful.”
Mission accomplished with the new top. I knew the expense would be worth it.
Jaeger’s wearing a button-down green shirt that brings out the green in his eyes. He looks edible, and smells it too. I wrap my arms around his waist and hug him tight. “I missed you.”
His face dips to the top of my head and he breathes in through my hair. “Same here.” After a moment, he loosens his hold. “Come on. I’ve got something to show you.” Excitement and a bit of shyness play on his face. He’s often quiet, but I’ve never seen him nervous.
What is this surprise?
Jaeger drives us to his house and my original suspicions resurface. I quickly reject them. Not that sex with Jaeger won’t play a part in the evening if I have a say, but Jaeger’s tapping the steering wheel as if he’s jumpy. Something else is going on.
We walk around to the workshop. He unlocks the door and steps aside for me to enter. The sun hasn’t set, but lies low in the sky, leaving the workshop shadowed without the overheads. He flips on the lights.
“Is this a replay of the other day?” I tease.
He looks at me, heat and desire flaming behind his gaze. “No, and you’d better not put ideas in my head or we won’t make it to dinner.”
He rests his wide hand on my lower back, scorching the flesh beneath, and guides me across the room to where he keeps his final works.
Only a few remain on the tiered shelves today, about half as many as last time. I’ll have to ask him how he sells his stuff. Good for research.
It’s strange how we both turned to art after the lives we’d mapped out didn’t work.
I’d never considered art and design before I returned to Tahoe, but I’ve been thoughtlessly sketching since fourth grade on napkins, notebooks, and just about any scrap of paper that fell into my hands.
Jaeger and I are so different on the surface.
He’s quiet and I’m outgoing, but underneath, our passions are the same. On many levels.
Jaeger steps away and pulls out a tablet about four-by-four feet in size and covered with a painter’s drop cloth. He sets it on the wall display and removes the cover. For a moment, I think, wow, that black drape really highlights the wood nicely, and then my focus settles on the design.
What the…? “Jaeger?”
The carving in front of us is the abstract I drew of the lake.
“Gen happened to show Mason and me the design you made on a napkin during one of your breaks. I asked her if I could borrow it. I also saw the sketch you left on the couch when I came by to pick up Gen. Cali, you have crazy talent.”
A naughty glint flashes in his forest-green eyes. “I’ve shown you how special I think you are. But this”—his eyes sober and he points to the piece in front of us—“is my way of showing you how special I think your art is.”
Replicated on wood, the sketch has dimension and depth, with the outermost lines advancing as though the center is pulling you in.
The amount of planning and work he must have put in to create this piece blows my mind. I’m speechless, which is rare for me.
He shoves his hands in the pockets of his dark slacks. “Well? What do you think?”
“It’s amazing. Your carving, that is.”
“Your drawing is amazing.”
This is more than Jaeger telling me he thinks I’m talented. He’s telling me he likes me, elevating the wooing campaign—the one I only recently realized exists—to new heights.
A few things come together for me and I finally understand. Gen… sneaky, sneaky, wonderful best friend. “Does this have anything to do with your clandestine date with my best friend?”
He smiles, exasperated, and shakes his head. “I wanted Gen to look at the early version. I hadn’t gotten your permission to use the sketch. I brought her by to check it out and tell me if she thought you’d be okay with it.”
And now I feel like an ass. “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions about you two. I owe both of you an apology.”