Page 79 of Kiss and Tell

“Awesome, you’re here.” Jessie put down a roller, streaks of paint on her cheek, and tugged on Gael’s sleeve. “You can take off now, babe. Thanks for helping out.”

Gael kissed her cheek with a loud smack, the paint transferring to his own face.

“Thanks for taking over,” Gael told us. “I’ve got to get back to the studio.”

Connor nodded in understanding even as a flash of pain crossed his face.

“Good luck with the recording,” Connor said. “You’re working on that new album, right?”

“Yeah,” Gael said with a light wince. “We’re under a lot of pressure for this one.”

“How’s your sister handling it?” Connor asked. His tone was even, but I caught a note of wistfulness.

“About as well as always,” Gael replied.

“So, not very?”

Connor and Gael shared a rueful laugh.

“Anyway, good luck with the painting.” Gael tossed out with a wink and a grin as he strode out of the bar. “We already took care of the easier bits.”

I looked to the walls and saw that Gael and Jessie had started painting in wide streaks along the middle, leaving the very top and bottom to us.

“I’ve got work soon, so I need to go home and change,” Jessie told us. “You two okay to take over from here?”

“You left us the hard part,” Connor accused.

She handed Connor the paint roller.

“We took care of half of it,” she countered. “Shouldn’t be too hard to finish the rest. You’re welcome!” she called out as she followed her boyfriend out the door.

Connor stared at the walls, dismayed.

“Might as well get started,” I said brightly. “Why don’t you take the top near the ceiling with the ladder, and I’ll take the bottom near the floor? We can work our way to the middle.”

“Why didn’t we hire painters again?” Connor asked.

“I couldn’t find any who worked with our timeline,” I said. “I figured we could take care of it ourselves.”

Connor grumbled but dragged the ladder to the corner and started climbing.

“I wasn’t made for this kind of physical labor,” he said. “My talents are those of the heart and soul.”

“You can’t convince me you’re a delicate flower, because I’ve seen your sexy, toned abs.”

“Are you going to be okay down there?” he asked. “Crouching for too long is going to hurt your thighs.”

“Then you’ll have to give me a massage later, won’t you?”

We started painting and for a while the only sounds in the room were Connor’s grunts and grumbles.

“I haven’t done this much tedious work since my parents used to give me chores,” he said. “And even then it wasn’t as bad as this.”

“You’re really hating this, aren’t you?” I asked him. “It can’t be worse than mowing the lawn or raking the leaves as a kid.”

“I hated that kind of work, too,” he said. “You might be surprised to hear this, but I was more the academic type. I used to always have my nose stuck in a book.”

“I don’t believe it.” I stopped painting to gape up at him. “What happened?”