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“No,” he says, so honestly that it makes me smile. “I mean, I like Ster’s art, but I don’t know much about artists and paintings,” he hurries to explain.

“If you don’t know much about it, how did you know me?”

“Mateo showed me your picture,” he admits. “And…”

“And?”

“We met years ago, briefly,” he admits.

So, I do know him! My gut feeling didn’t betray me. I scan his face, trying to place it somewhere. Noel is watching me, before he shrugs. “It was just a brief encounter,” he reassures me. “And you probably meet tons of people daily.”

“Won’t you tell me how we met?”

“No,” he says bluntly.

Goodness gracious. That guy does have claws! I try to remind myself that he is not my usual type and that flirting with him will probably just lead me to be disappointed at best and heartbroken at worst, but damn it, I feel weirdly drawn to him. It’s his eyes. His deep, soulful eyes. Sterling captured his very essence so well, it’s even more mind-boggling now that I am talking to him in person.

“Care for a glass of wine?” I ask him.

Noel blinks at me, eyes wide. Then he nods. I take two glasses for us, walking to the balcony with him following me. “Why don’t you push me for an answer?” he asks after I hand him a glass.

“You said you wouldn’t tell me,” I say. “So, what’s the use in pushing you?”

It has the wanted effect because Noel’s eyebrow starts twitching. “You are kind of infuriating,” he says bluntly. He obviously doesn’t mean it, though, or he would have left me by myself. Instead, he keeps sipping at his glass.

“Do you like the wine?”

“Yes, it’s a good Cabernet Sauvignon.”

This does take me by surprise. I didn’t think he would so easily be able to tell what we are drinking. “So, you are a wine connoisseur?”

“Not really,” Noel says. “But I know the most important wines.”

“How come?”

“I am a bartender,” he explains. He looks flustered as if it’s embarrassing to admit.

“So, you can mix cocktails?”

He perks up visibly. “I can, but I don’t like alcohol much.” He gestures at his glass. “I only occasionally have a glass, but usually stay away from heavy stuff.”

“Wait, you are working as a bartender, but don’t like the drinks there?”

“Yeah, I don’t. It’s a long story.”

I wait a moment in case he wants to tell me more, but he doesn’t. Understandable, I don’t waltz around, telling random strangers my problems either. I let my gaze wander over Noel once more. He is nothing like Sterling’s paintings, but at the same time, he is. It’s the discrepancy between the melancholy around him, which Sterling catches in his pictures, and his confident, slightly prickly personality.

I am fascinated.

“Mr. Randall?”

I raise my gaze to look right into Noel’s eyes. Warm-toned, brown eyes, hidden behind his wavy bangs. He looks beautiful.

Not what I go for usually.

My God, what am I even thinking? Lynn didn’t do me any good.

“Yes?”