Page 48 of Duty Unbound

Ethan’s eyebrows rose. “So you get a break?”

“Something like that.” I checked my watch. “I have a mountain of tour details to finalize while she’s distracted. Venue contracts, transportation schedules, press arrangements…”

“All work, no play? How about painting?”

“The work never stops,” I admitted. “But yeah, I think I’ll be getting in as much painting as I can.”

Three hours later, I balanced a tray of snacks as I headed to my suite. I’d managed to finalize the remaining venue contracts and confirm the transportation schedules while Nova held her impromptu rehearsal. My back ached from hunching over spreadsheets, but I’d accomplished more in those few hours than I typically could in days.

As I rounded the corner, the tray wobbled precariously. A hand appeared, steadying it before anything could spill.

“Need help?” Ethan’s low voice sent a ripple of awareness through me.

“Thanks.” I relinquished half the items to him. “Just grabbing a little bit to eat before turning in. I got a lot done tonight.”

He fell into step beside me. “Even this late?”

“Best time to work. No interruptions.”

“Lead the way. I’ll carry this.”

We reached my suite, and I hesitated at the door. The memory of our interrupted moment in the security room last night hung between us, unspoken but undeniable.

“You can come in,” I offered, gesturing with my elbow since my hands were full. “Unless you need to get back.”

“The team has the night covered,” he said, following me inside. “I’ve got a little time.”

I led him through to the sitting area, and he set down the snack tray on the coffee table. I’d forgotten about my easel still standing in the corner, the landscape I’d been working on exposed for anyone to see.

Ethan noticed it immediately and moved toward the canvas, studying it with unexpected intensity.

Heat crept up my neck. “It’s not very good, I know. Just something I do to unwind.”

He didn’t respond, his gaze moving from the painting to several others stacked against the wall—all variations on the same theme: a house nestled in mountains, children playing outside, a dog running across vast green space.

“These are all similar,” he observed, his voice strangely thoughtful.

I busied myself arranging the snacks, too embarrassed to look at him. “Yeah. Honestly, I’m not very creative. I tend to paint the same things over and over.”

When he still didn’t respond, I glanced up. He was staring at the paintings, brows drawn together, a curious expression crossing his features as he tilted his head slightly.

“What is it?” I asked, moving to stand beside him.

“Nothing, just…” He hesitated. “Never mind.”

I wanted to push but decided not to.

“They’re good, Mel. Really good.”

“You don’t have to flatter me,” I laughed, relief washing over me that he hadn’t pressed further about the subject matter.These paintings were far too personal, windows into dreams I’d never shared with anyone.

“Not flattery.” He turned to me, his expression softening. “You have talent.”

“It’s just a hobby.” I shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. “Something to do when I need to escape for a while.”

He took a step closer, his eyes searching mine. “Everyone needs an escape sometimes.”

The air between us suddenly felt charged with possibility. We stood close enough that I could catch the faint scent of his aftershave, feel the warmth radiating from his body.