Chapter 27
Lola
February…
I hug Delia tightly. “Thank you for coming!”
“Are you kidding me? Of course!” She looks around the walls of the Art Collective, which is covered in charcoal pieces by a local artist. “My God, this woman is talented, huh?”
“She is. The best charcoal artist I’ve ever seen, and she did such a great job teaching too in the courses she offered this month,” I explain. “It’s a medium that always intimidated me, but not anymore, thanks to taking her class.”
“So…” Delia pauses to take a glass of wine off the tray of a server waltzing by. “I would ask if this is working out, but as soon as I walked in and saw your face, I could tell it was.”
“We had a slight hiccup with the caterer, but I ran out and bought extra wine just in case we run out, and also, I was here until two in the morning with the artist hanging the pieces last night, because she was grappling with the placement of some of the bigger ones, but she’s happy now, so I’m happy and—”
“Not what I meant, but proof I’m right,” Delia says and sips her wine. “You’re rattling off problems with excitement, and your eyes are brighter than I’ve ever seen them. You’re happy.”
I blink and look around the exhibit, which is in full swing.
As soon as I decided to drop out of school, Lacey, the head of the Sand Dollar Art Collective, offered me a paid position.
It’s a part-time position because that’s all they can afford to pay me, but I am loving it.
I’m in charge of creating their social media accounts, organizing events, and developing marketing ideas.
This is my first big event in charge as an actual employee, and it’s our busiest in over a year.
“I wake up excited to start my day every day, yeah. It’s worked out. I am loving it.”
Delia grins. “I’m really happy for you.”
“Me too,” I say, and the door opens again, and something fiery catches my eye.
It’s Grady’s red hair. He’s just walked in followed by Landon and Callan, and my heart swells.
I had mentioned the event in passing, but I didn’t formally ask them to attend.
I know art isn't their thing, and they’re in the middle of the season. So it means everything that they…
“Oops! Wait! That light just dropped out of your eyes like someone flipped a switch,” Delia says, and her gaze follows mine. She frowns. “Did you not want your family here?”
“No, I did. But they brought him.”
“Who? Oh. That tall, dark, and sexy thing behind Callan?” Delia sips her wine again and smirks. “Yeah. How horrible. They brought a man who looks like he stepped off a billboard for an underwear campaign. How dare they.”
I roll my eyes at her. “Okay, so you’re not wrong, and trust me when I say he looks even better naked. And that’s the problem.”
“Wait what? You’re seeing that perfect specimen, and you didn’t tell me?” Delia looks offended.
“I’m not seeing him. We had a no strings thing going on,” I inform her. “And then we didn’t. His choice.”
“Oh, he dined and dashed?” Delia looks gravely disappointed. But then she leans closer. “But I bet the dining was fine. Am I right? Tell me I’m right.”
I don’t answer, but I blush, and Delia grins because she knows that is, in fact, an answer.
But it’s been a month since I saw him at a Riptide home game, and he’s been no-contact since.
This thing with us is definitely over. He’s made his choice.
Then I remember something, and panic ripples down my spine, and I grab Delia’s hand. “I need a favor.”
“Anything.” She says, her tone is suddenly deathly serious, proving why she’s the ride or die she is.
“I need you to go to that wall,” I point to the short wall just off the bathroom, where a bunch of smaller pieces by the students who took the artist’s classes are hanging. “And take down the piece I did. Now! Right away. If anyone questions you, tell them I told you to do it.”
“Okay, but why? And what do I do with it?” She looks positively baffled.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “But he can’t see it. I don’t want my family to see it either. Please just hide it somewhere.”
“Okay. On it.” Delia heads toward the wall, and I turn and head toward the gaggle of hockey players.
When I reach them, I purposely keep my smile directed at Grady and Landon, but not at Callan or Theo, because I know my twin is the reason his d-partner is here.
Callan has been asking me why I don’t just talk to Theo and tell him I’m miserable without him.
He thinks it’s that easy. He acts like we’re both stupid.
But I’m not chasing a guy. Any guy. Not even one that lights me up inside like this job does. Nope.
“Thanks for coming, you guys!” I hug Grady, then Landon, and kind of wave in the general direction of Callan and Theo.
“It’s packed!” Grady says, impressed.
“Yeah. I’ve been working really hard on promoting it on Instagram and TikTok, and I think it’s paid off,” I say. “And I mean, the artist’s work is great.”
“We will check it out,” Grady says. “Is Coach here?”
“He was earlier with his wife and his daughter, Mac and Conner,” I explain. “They left early because they had Violet with them. But Coach and his wife bought a piece from the artist. A big one. And his daughter Cassia is here somewhere. She volunteers with us.”
“I’m looking to buy some art,” Theo says, and I finally force myself to look at him.
He’s wearing a dark shirt with a sports coat over it and a pair of dark pants that show off his bubble butt.
His hair is sculpted into a tousled style that has a reckless yet still professional vibe.
I force myself to ignore all of it, including the pull I have to stand closer to him.
“Well, lucky for you, this is an art show. Go nuts.”
I turn back to my older brother and Grady. “I have to check in with the owner about something. Feel free to wander. Don’t let Callan eat all the canapés.”
“There are snacks?” Callan perks up.
“No more than two per person,” I mutter back and merge back into the swirling crowd.
I find Lacey in the back office. She’s adding a receipt to a pile that is bigger than I expected. Her big green eyes are wide and bright when she sees me. “This is our best show yet, Lola! The artist is overjoyed. I’m overjoyed.”
“Awesome!”
I left the door to the office open, and Linda, one of our most dedicated collective members, pops her head in. She’s grinning, and her cheeks are flushed. “The Riptide are here!”
“What? The hockey team?” Lacey looks at me.
“Just the ones named Casco. Or dating a Casco. And Theo Richard, for some reason,” I frown.
“Oh, the hot one who fell off a roof when he played in Vegas?” Lacey asks, and I sigh. I wish Maine wasn’t a hockey town, but it is, and everyone follows the team and the gossip.
“Yeah. That one.”
“Lola, you need to get some photos of them. For publicity.” Linda says, and I cringe. I don’t want my brothers to be used as marketing material. Or Theo. “Do you know how many sports bros might consider coming to our next event?”
“Yeah but then they’ll get here and see there’s no hockey players or ice or, you know, hockey and they’ll leave,” I reply. “I don’t see them as a boost for this place. But feel free to ask them for pictures or whatever for personal reasons.”
Linda smiles. “Can I say you said that it was okay?”
“Yes. Because I am the all-powerful sister. They do whatever I say. Except Theo.”
“I would follow you into hell if you asked me to, Lola Summer Casco.”
Shit.
I see Theo step into view. He’s just outside the office next to Linda now. He smiles politely at Linda and Lacey. “I’m happy to pose for pictures. But I’d like to inquire about a piece first.”
Lacey stands straighter, and her face shifts into its Art Dealer expression, cool, serene, and professional. “Absolutely. Are you familiar with the artist?”
“Of the piece I want to purchase? Yes. Very acquainted.” He says, and I lift an eyebrow.
There’s no way he knows of a forty-five-year-old African American-Japanese charcoal portrait artist from Saint Johnsbury, Vermont.
That can mean only one thing. And then he confirms it.
“I assume the student pieces on display are for sale, too?”
Damnit, Delia, you had one job!
“Yes.” Lacey says, at the exact same moment, I blurt out, “No.”
She shoots me a very confused look. I swallow. “I mean, maybe. Sure. Except I think a piece got put up there by mistake.”
“What? Italome picked them herself,” Linda says. “There are no mistakes.”
Theo smiles, and it’s so smolderingly hot that I swear to god Linda whimpers a little, like a puppy.
Then he levels the smile at Lacey. “I’d also like to make a donation. I saw a pamphlet out front that says we can make a donation to the Sand Dollar Art Collective to ensure you can keep providing free classes and seminars for the public.”
“Yes. We’d be happy to accept a donation, Mr. Richard.”
“Theo,” he says. “But first, can someone help me with the piece I’m interested in?”
“Right. Lola, how about…” I glare at Lacey, and she blinks and rears her head back an inch, like I took a swing at her.
Metaphorically, I kind of did, I guess. Her gaze shifts to Linda.
“On second thought, Linda is one of our most dedicated volunteers. She can help you out and get that picture you offered.”
His face falls, but only for a second. His eyes move to me, but I look away. “Sure. Sounds great. Let me show you what I’m interested in.”
Linda and Theo disappear back into the main room, and I sag against Lacey’s desk. She shoots me a look. “What’s up with you and the hockey hunk? Oh my God, he’s not the stalker you mentioned, is he? Did he vandalize your car?”
She looks genuinely fearful, but I shake my head. “No. He’s saved me from the stalker a couple times though. Theo is a great guy. He’s perfect, actually.”
“And he was making bedroom eyes at you,” I smile at her use of goofy archaic language, but I shake my head. “No. He was, Lola. I thought he might cry when I sent Linda off with him instead of you.”
“He’s not interested. I mean, we…” Do I tell my new boss about my situationship?
Probably not the best idea. Lacey is sixty and has been married since she was twenty, so I don’t think she’s familiar with the term or will be able to relate to it.
“We have shared moments, but he’s made it more than clear that he isn’t interested in anything serious. With me.”
“Are you sure? Because those bedroom eyes say different. Plus, he’s buying your artwork.”
I smile. “He’s buying my artwork because he is my artwork.”
Delia appears at the door now, looking guilty, and I frown. “What happened?”
“He snuck up on me, as I was taking it off the wall, trying to make sure it didn’t rip.” She throws me a soft smile. “Well, at least you made a sale.”
I am dying. I swear to God, embarrassment is strangling me. I cover my face with my hands.
“Oh! He’s buying those body pieces you did?” Lacey says, and then. “Oh! Wait, is that… is it his body you drew?”
“Oh my God, did my brothers see?” I drop my hands and stare at Delia.
“No, I don’t think so.” She says, but I push past her and out into the still-bustling exhibit. My eyes scan the room, and I find my brothers and Grady in the corner opposite the student wall, talking to Italome.
Phew. I beeline for Theo, who is still with Linda, who is holding the 8x10 piece I did.
A side profile in charcoal of a torso. The arm and shoulder, all muscled and toned, with a wide, strong hand reaching out.
There’s a distinct scar across the bicep.
And then there’s also the outline of a muscled ass. A perfect, round, thick, hockey ass.
When I reach them, I lay a gentle hand on Linda’s arm. “Let me handle it for here, Lin.”
“Sure thing,” Linda smiles at Theo and reaches to shake his hand as I take the drawing from her. “Thanks for the picture. My husband is going to regret not coming to the show.”
I watch her disappear back into the crowd around us, and then I force myself to look at him.
Damn, he is so hot. He smiles, and it hits me how much I’ve missed him.
I’ve been keeping busy with work, and Randie and stuff, and I’ve refused to let myself dwell on his absence. But now, as I look at him, I feel it.
He looks down at my drawing and back up at me, and the glint in his eye gets a little bit cocky.
I sigh. “Yes. Fine. I drew you. I didn’t expect the artist to choose it for the show.
I didn’t even know she was going to include student pieces, so I wouldn’t have drawn it.
I would have drawn, like Randie’s little hand or something.
Sorry. I should have said no and not put you on display. ”
“Lola, I shower naked in front of people just about every day. I’m not shy,” he says, and his dark eyes drop to the artwork and back up to me. “What am I reaching for?”
“Me,” I whisper and then hand it to him. “It’s yours. For free. I can’t charge you for a drawing of yourself. Have a good night.”
I turn to leave as soon as he takes the drawing from me, but his big hand circles my wrist. “We need to talk.”
“Why? Your actions have made it pretty clear where I stand,” I reply. “And I’m working.”
“Okay. Come over after the show. I’ll meet you outside when it’s over,” Theo says, and it’s firm, like he’s not asking. “I don’t want you walking to your car alone anyway.”
“I can get Linda or Lacey to walk me. I’m only a couple blocks away. Or ask Callan to hang around.”
“Or I can meet you out front when you’re done,” Theo replies, his thumb rubbing gently against my pulse point. “And we can go somewhere, and I can tell you what a complete idiot I’ve been, beg your forgiveness, and explain where my head is at.”
My eyelashes flutter like my heart. And all I can do is nod.