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Maeve’s lips form a soft smile. “I bet that was fun.”
“I was only like six at the time, so back then it was one of the coolest things ever. But it’s not anymore.”
“That’s how life goes. Say you went back to your kindergarten class. You’re a teenager now, so everything would look much smaller than you remember. Your perspective changes as you grow and also as you get older,” Maeve tells her.
Gwen’s eyes sparkle with rapt interest. “I never thought about that. Now I want to go visit my kindergarten teacher so I can see.”
I laugh. “Don’t tell your dad it was my suggestion,” she says, barely moving her lips.
The fact that she’s hitting it off with Gwen so well makes me like her even more.
By the time the two hours of our allotted time have passed, we’ve all finished painting. Once again, Gwen’s artwork looks professionally done, and Maeve’s is almost equally impressive.
And then there’s mine...
My dragon looks like a Rorschach test. It’s easy to imagine a psychologist asking me “What do you see in the ink blot?”
I may have painted this disaster, but I don’t know what I see. It’s certainly not a dragon.
Gwen and Maeve scoot over to look at my masterpiece.
“That’s a dragon?” Gwen asks.
Maeve makes a choking sound as she struggles to hold in her laughter.
“Sure, pick on the guy who has no artistic ability,” I say, pretending to be offended.
“I thought you were exaggerating when you told me how bad your last painting came out, but I see you weren’t,” Maeve says.
“My strengths lie in physical activities,” I say, pressing my hand on her lower back. The warmth of her skin bleeds through her shirt, heating my palm and stirring my blood.
Her head turns, and her eyes spark with interest. If we were alone, I’d slam my lips on hers and remind her who her body responds to.
But we’re not.
“I’ll take care of putting everything away,” Gwen says. She collects our brushes, then washes and dries them. She returns the paint bottles to the table where they belong. “All set.” She removes her canvas from the easel while Maeve and I do the same.
We leave the room and wave goodbye to Lori as we pass through the main area. I hold the door open for them, and we walk to the parking lot. I place the canvases in the cargo area, and then we settle inside the vehicle.
Gwen and Maeve keep up a steady stream of chatter as I drive. Listening to them warms my heart and makes me wish the circumstances with Maeve and I were different. If I wasn’t her boss, we’d already be consistently spending more time together.
The ride passes much too quickly, leaving me silently cursing as I pull into the driveway. I’m not ready to let Maeve go yet.
“Gwen, it was so nice meeting you.”
“You too.”
I climb out, make my way around to the back, and open the hatch. Removing Maeve’s painting, I close the door, and meet her as she climbs from the passenger side.
“Dad, can we hang out with Maeve again sometime?” Gwen asks.
“I don’t see why not.”
Maeve gives a quick wave toward Gwen and closes the door. I walk beside her to the front door, then place a hand on her arm.
“Thank you for coming with us.”
“Thank you for forcing me.” She laughs, but then turns serious. “Why did you?”