Chapter 5
Imanaged to convince Gabriel to sit beside me while we drove out of the city to a small town about half an hour away. We chatted about nothing in particular the whole way there.
Correction, I chatted about nothing in particular, he listened. Every so often, he said something that made me crack up laughing, but mostly he was serious.
I”d assumed he was all about work, but the more I saw of him, the more I realised he was just reserved. How much of that was because of his overbearing mother, and how much was because he wasn”t naturally outgoing?
From what I saw of her, she seemed like the kind of person who demanded that everything go her way, with no regard for the feelings of anyone else. Not even her sons.
”How did Tom end up a rock star?” I asked. ”I mean, from what you said about your mother, I can”t imagine her approving of something like that.”
Gabriel glanced over and snorted softly. ”She didn”t. She was mortified, but he”s always gotten away with more than I ever did. The curse of being the oldest, I suppose. I was expected to do all the right things while he was off rebelling. He was never going to let her tell him what to do.”
”If you could have done anything you wanted to, what would you do?” I asked. ”Let me guess, you would have been a clown at kids’ parties.”
He shuddered. ”I can”t begin to tell you what”s wrong with that assumption. Kids and clowns. I”d rather jump out of a plane. No, I would have done what I”m doing. I like what I do. When my father retires, I”ll be CEO of Ellison Enterprises.”
I glanced over. ”That”s really what you want? Working twenty-four hours a day running an empire?”
”Still better than being a clown,” he said. ”I”m good at what I do.”
”Making money?” I asked. ”Is that personally fulfilling?”
”It has its moments,” he said. ”Being able to donate millions to charities is fulfilling. Being in a position to encourage people to be more green is fulfilling. In the last few years, we”ve invested a lot in renewable resources and sustainability. If I had my way, every roof would have solar panels, gardens, water tanks and wind turbines.”
”You want to change the world.” I had to admit, that was hot. ”You don”t want to go to space?”
”Not particularly,” he said. ”Not while there are people in need. So, you see, I have fun.”
It was my turn to snort. ”All of that is amazing, and the world appreciates it, but what do you do to relax and unwind? What kind of hobbies does Gabriel Ellison have?”
”Call me Gabe, and I don”t have any hobbies,” he said. ”I”m too busy.”
”I”m shocked,” I said sarcastically. ”You don”t even knit?”
”Should I?” he asked. ”I suppose I could try to knit hats for the homeless.”
”What about a hat for yourself? You”d look cute in a hot pink beanie.” He”d look adorable in that and nothing else. Okay, maybe adorable wasn”t the right word.
Now I knew his head wasn”t as far up his ass as I thought, I was starting to like him. For a billionaire, he seemed like a good guy.
”If I knitted a beanie, it wouldn”t be good enough for anyone to wear,” he said. ”Besides, you”d look better in pink than I would.”
I pulled the car up in front of a small building on the edge of town and turned off the engine. ”We”re here.”
”Where is here?” He squinted out the window.
”Come on, I”ll show you.” I pushed the door open and slipped out into the warm, spring afternoon. When he looked hesitant, I grabbed his hand and pulled him inside.
”Painting?” He looked at the easels set up around the room with a combination of disbelief and anxiety. For a moment, I thought he might run back out the door and insist on being driven home.
”Yes, but there”s absolutely no pressure to be any good at it,” I said. ”I”m not. It”s just good, relaxing fun. Trust me.”
He sighed heavily. ”Fine, as long as it doesn”t involve any tequila.”
I laughed. ”Definitely no tequila. Just canvas, paint and brushes.” I looked his expensive suit up and down. ”And a smock.”
He slipped off his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. He pulled his chunky silver and black watch off his wrist and slipped it into a pocket before taking the smock I handed him and pushing his arms into the sleeves.
”I feel like I”m in preschool again.” He glanced down at himself. ”If only the board could see me now.”
”I could take a photo if you like?” I offered.
”Absolutely not,” he said firmly. ”This stays between us. I have a reputation to uphold.”
”Wouldn”t want to do anything to ruin your grumpy businessman persona,” I said.
”I”ve worked hard building it for all these years,” he said. ”One little photo of me like this could ruin that forever.” His eyes twinkled.
My heart did a funny thing in my chest that felt like it was skipping or maybe dancing. I reminded myself that this was professional, but I was finding it more and more difficult to keep myself from liking him.
I put on my own smock and sat on a stool, my canvas in front of me, but angled so I could see him at the same time.
He slipped onto his own stool and placed his palms on his thighs. ”Okay, what do we do?”
”Whatever you want to do,” I replied. ”Pick up a brush and do what comes naturally.”
He gave me a long look that suggested what he wanted to do didn”t involve paint. At least, not a canvas. Judging by the way the front of his pants tented, it didn”t involve clothes either.
”There”s a bowl of apples over there.” I jerked my head toward a table on the side of the room, while my face heated. ”You could try to paint those. Or something abstract.”
”I”m going to paint you,” he said softly. ”I mean, on my canvas.” The tips of his ears were adorably pink. ”I can do a mean stick figure.” He picked up a brush, dipped it in the black paint and started to dab at his canvas.
”I”ll paint you then,” I said. I waited until he glanced up before dipping my brush in bright blue paint and getting to work.
His eyebrows rose before he deliberately switched to bright pink.
Taking that as a challenge, I wiped off my brush and chose a loud shade of yellow.
He frowned briefly before deciding on orange as his next colour.
”I can”t wait to see what you”re doing over there,” I said.
”You have to wait until I”m done,” he said. ”If I can be patient, so can you.”
”That”s a big assumption,” I remarked. ”I”ve never been known for my patience. Maybe I could take a little peek.” I placed my hand on the seat of the stool as if I was about to stand up.
He waved his brush in my direction, flicking orange paint here and there. ”No peeking. You stay there until we”re both done.”
”What are you going to do if I don”t, spank me?” I teased.
He paused mid-stroke to look over at me, his expression heavy with desire. ”Don”t think I won”t, good girl.”
Holy shit. My panties were completely ruined. I”d always been a bit of a sucker for praise. Okay, I was a lot of a sucker.
”You know I want to look now,” I said.
He swallowed hard. ”I”ll finish fast. Um, I mean the painting. I don”t finish quickly when I… I take my time and…”
”Yeah,” I said, ”I got you. We should get these paintings completed.” Preferably before I combusted.
”Right.” He hunched forward and focused on his canvas for another few minutes. ”There, my work of art is complete. If I say so myself, the resemblance is quite striking. Is yours done?”
”Just another couple of lines here and there.” I thickened the line of his right cheek and left leg, and did a slight touch up of his nose. ”Okay, that”s as good as it”s going to get,” I said finally. ”Are you ready to show me yours?”
”More than ready,” he said under his breath. ”My painting is also ready. On the count of three?”
I nodded and put down my brush before gripping the base of the easel.
”One. Two. Three.”
We both turned our easels around and burst out laughing.