Chapter 10
Hunter fought the urge to reach out and put his finger on Britt’s lower lip to stop it from trembling. The movement was slight,
but noticeable. She was staring at her feet again, and even though he couldn’t see her entire face, the back of her neck was
scarlet. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and ducked his head so he could look at her. “Hey,” he said, gentling his
voice. “You don’t have to say that to make me feel better.”
“I’m not.” She moved away, then turned her back on him. “I’m telling you the truth.”
“Who isn’t a mess, though?” He circled around to face her again. “I sure am.”
Britt lifted her head slightly. “Are you a constant ball of anxiety that avoids people and social situations at all costs?”
She had him there. “No. But I’ve had my fair share of problems.” Ones he wouldn’t admit out loud. Even his roommate had no
idea how much trouble he’d been in, only that he was a recovering alcoholic. “I’ve been nervous before. Plenty of times.”
“This is different.” She was looking at him again. “I don’t just get nervous. I break out in a sweat, my palms get slick,
my stomach turns sour, I forget my words, and sometimes I almost pass out. And that’s on a good day.”
He noticed her fingers were shaking as she yanked on the bottom of her shirt so hard the material was stretching, making him want to take her hands in his and soothe her. But he couldn’t. She was like a frightened little bunny right now, and he didn’t want to do anything to make her scamper off.
“The only times I feel calm are when I’m creating something or hanging out with my mom or my friend Savannah,” she continued.
“Otherwise, I’m a jumbled wreck and no fun to be around.”
“Then we don’t get coffee. We stay here and order something in.”
She shook her head. “You don’t understand. It’s not just crowds. Sometimes it’s just one person.”
“I make you nervous.”
“Yes,” she said in a small voice.
“You weren’t nervous when we were working on our drawings.”
“No. But that was different.”
He spotted a stool in the corner of the supply room. Quickly he picked it up and put it in front of her, then sat down so
they were face-to-face. “Remember that video you made, where you talked about taking chances?”
“Yeah.” She rocked back and forth on her heels. “I know. I’m a hypocrite.”
“No, you’re a normal human.”
Irritation flashed in her eyes. “Being anxious all the time isn’t normal, Hunter.”
“True. But being afraid to take a chance or a risk is something everyone struggles with. Including me.”
“But you’re so confident.”
He almost laughed at that. She had no idea about his internal struggles, and he wasn’t going to dump them at her feet. This
conversation was about her. “I play a good game,” was all he’d admit. “I think this might be an opportunity to help each other,
though.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve got the art bug.” Which was true. After today he was ready to learn as much as he could about drawing. He chuckled.
“Why is that funny?”
Hunter pointed to himself. “Me, an artist. I never could draw a straight line.” He also hadn’t had the patience to really
try, up until now.
“You didn’t take art in school?”
“Only in elementary and middle school. After that I always thought art was for weirdos and hippies.”
“Yoo-hoo!” Maude’s voice came from the other room. “You two okay in there?”
Hunter’s brow shot up and Britt covered her mouth with her hands, letting out an adorable giggle. “We’re fine,” she called
out. “Just putting up our supplies.”
“Oh, I see . Well, I’ll leave you to it.”
A few seconds later, Britt peeked out of the closet and into the art room. “She’s gone,” she said, looking at him again. The
lines of tension around her mouth and eyes had disappeared too.
“You don’t think she heard me, do you?” he asked, a little concerned. “I was just making a joke.”
“Even if she did, she wouldn’t care. She and X are still living in the seventies and loving every minute of it.” She tucked
a loose curl behind her ear. “It must be nice to be so confident in your own skin.”
I wouldn’t know. “Back to my art bug.”
Britt smiled.
Which made him smile back. So pretty. He shoved his focus back on the topic. “You mentioned that you’re comfortable with your mom and Savannah.”
“Maude and X too. And...” She cleared her throat. “That’s it.”
“You’re not nervous around me when we’re working on art.” He didn’t bother to point out that she didn’t seem anxious now either. That would work in his favor. “I propose this—in exchange for art lessons, I’ll help you with your social anxiety.”
“How?”
“When you’re ready, we’ll go out for coffee. Then we’ll move on to a meal, and after that maybe a museum or shopping.” The
more he talked about this, the more he liked it. If she agreed, they’d be spending a lot of time together, something he didn’t
mind one bit.
“Why would you do that for me?” She frowned, the tension returning.
“I’m not being completely altruistic,” he pointed out. “I’m getting art lessons from one of the best artists in return.”
Britt glanced away.
“You don’t have to decide now.” He got up and went to put the stool back in its original spot. “There’s no rush—”
“Yes.”
He turned around. That was quick. Then he saw the uncertainty in her eyes, and he walked over to her. “I’m serious. Take some
time to think about it.”
“I don’t need to. I’m tired of being like this. I’ve had counseling, taken medications, tried different therapies. They all
work for a little bit, and then I go back to being... me. But no one’s offered to help me like this. I’d be stupid to turn
it down.” Her hands moved to her shirt again.
He intercepted them, then gently moved them to her sides. “And it’s not every day that a schmuck like me gets premium art
lessons. It’s a win for both of us.”
“You’re not a schmuck.”
“About three hours ago you thought differently.”
“No,” she said, tilting her head and smiling a bit. “I thought you might be a creep. That’s different.”
He laughed. “I stand corrected. All right, it’s a deal then.”
Britt nodded. “As long as you don’t mind hanging out with a nervous ball of anxiety with a perspiration problem when under
stress.”
“I can handle it. But are you sure you want to spend time with a thirty-year-old warehouse worker who only has a GED and lives
with another guy who is barely out of high school?”
“What’s wrong with a GED?” she asked without hesitation. “And warehouse workers are crucial members of the workforce. Without
y’all, commerce would grind to a halt. Your living situation sounds practical too.”
He truly hadn’t looked at it that way. “Thanks, Britt. I appreciate that.”
“At least you don’t live with your mother.” She headed out the door.
“Do you two get along?” he said, following her.
She nodded and pushed the chairs they’d used under the table.
“Do you like living with her?”
Britt turned around. “I do. I pay my fair share too. But I’m twenty-eight years old. I should be out on my own.”
“Who says?”
“I do.” She waved her hand. “When do you want to meet again?”
They set up a time for the following Monday—his next day off. “Okay, you come up with an art assignment, and I’ll figure out
some things for us to do—when you’re ready,” he emphasized.
Nodding, she said, “That sounds like a plan.”
After collecting their drawings, they headed to the front of the store. X was straightening an endcap filled with mini canvases while Maude stood behind the counter scrolling on her phone. “Mondays,” she sighed. “They’re so slow, it’s almost not worth being open.” Then she looked up, her eyes brightening. “All the supplies in order?” She gave them a cheeky grin.
“Maude,” X said, his tone holding a slight warning edge.
“I’m just teasing them.” She came around the counter. “Let’s see the masterpieces.”
Britt easily showed them hers, and Maude made the appropriate awe-filled comments without going overboard.
Hunter held back, folding his into quarters on the creased lines. “Mine needs more work.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s wonderful.” Maude stepped beside him. “I’d really like to see it.”
He looked at Britt, who nodded and smiled.
Reluctantly he unfolded it, and Maude took it from him. She studied it for a second, and he regretted giving in.
Then she grinned. “Marvelous. This is really impressive.”
He glanced at her, wondering if she was buttering his biscuit a little too much. But she seemed genuine. “Thanks,” he said,
unable to hide his grin. It had been a long time since someone had showed so much appreciation for something he’d done. A
very long time, and he soaked it in.
Britt’s phone buzzed and she pulled it out of her pocket and looked at the screen. “It’s Savannah,” she said. “I’ve got to
take this.” She walked away and answered the phone.
“I offer a beginner drawing class on Saturday mornings, if you’re interested.” Maude handed him back the seashell drawing.
“Thanks, but I can’t. I work on Saturdays. Second shift.” He was about to tell her that Britt had agreed to give him lessons
but decided not to. Britt could give them the news if she wanted to. They’d find out anyway when he showed up next Monday.
Britt returned. “I’ve got to go,” she said, her nervous expression back in place. “Savannah wants to look at dresses this
afternoon before the shops close.”
“Ah, a summer wedding.” Maude clasped her hands together. “I do love those.”
“Not me,” X said. “I never understood why any sane person would get married during the boiling Texas summer.”
“True love doesn’t care about temperature,” Maude said.
X frowned. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does to me. Besides, that’s why we have air conditioning.” She gave Britt a quick hug. “Have fun. I hope you find something
beautiful to wear.”
It didn’t take a genius to deduce that Savannah was a bride-to-be, and Britt was involved in the wedding in some way. That
explained her anxious expression, and why she was fidgeting with her shirt hem again.
She looked at Hunter. “I’ll see you later,” she said.
“Hold up, I’ll walk out with you.” He said goodbye to X and Maude, ignoring Maude’s giddy expression. She wasn’t exactly being
subtle.
Fortunately, it wasn’t boiling hot outside as he and Britt left K&Bs and walked to their vehicles, but it was still May and
soon the heat would crank up. He was parked a few spaces away from her compact car, and he walked to it with her. “You gonna
be okay?”
She turned and nodded. “I’ve never shopped for a fancy dress before. I’m Savannah’s maid of honor.”
“I too have never shopped for a fancy dress.” He grinned and she smiled. “But I have worn a tux before.”
“Really? When?”
He stilled, wondering if he should tell her about his family. No, not at this juncture. If she found out his father was crazy rich, she’d wonder why he wasn’t working for him and why he was living with a roommate. Too much info too soon. “Prom,” he lied. He’d never been, although he’d had dates for every regular dance at every school he’d attended. Usually by prom time, though, he was either suspended or had been transferred to yet another school. By the start of his senior year, he gave up and got his GED.
“Oh, right,” she said. “I never went to prom.”
“You didn’t want to go?”
“No one asked me.” She quickly opened the door. “See you Monday,” she said, jumping inside.
Hunter waved as she sped off. He went to his bike, took the helmet out of the saddlebag, and put it on. If she would have
told him even an hour ago that no one asked her to prom, he wouldn’t have believed her. But knowing she had crippling anxiety,
it made sense. Even if she’d been asked, she probably would have said no. But to not even have had the chance...
He got on his bike and made himself a promise. Whatever he had to do to help her, he would—whether she gave him art lessons
or not.