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The nearby art store seemed small from the outside, its storefront narrow, but it was deep and had a second level accessible by stairs and an antique wheelchair lift. Rai seemed fascinated by the lift, though his smile was a little wan as he followed Poppy up the stairs.

“You should probably drink more than sips.” Poppy eyed Rai’s water bottle, which was full even though he’d been taking drinks from it the entire walk.

Rai scoffed faintly. “I am merely drinking a normal amount of water for a normal man.”

“Well, don’t man yourself into heat stroke.

” Poppy drank the rest of her own water and tucked the empty bottle into her purse.

“So how big did you want to go on the painting? They have stretcher bars all the way from petite to gargantubig.” At Rai’s blank look, she laughed.

“Sorry, I’m making up words again. Not fair to you. Very big. Epic.”

He lifted his chin regally. “I wish it to be epic. ”

“Well, okay then.” Poppy selected a pair of the largest stretcher bars and handed them to Rai. “We didn’t talk about a pose. Do you want to be standing, sitting, lying down?”

“What do you suggest?” He peered closely at the stretcher bars.

An image of Rai lounging naked on a pile of cushions flashed through her head. “Um. I’m a fan of…lying down. You said this was for your mother?”

He waved dismissively. “She will not care, as long as you capture my essence.”

Well, that’s not stressful at all. “Lying down it is. So we’ll do landscape and rectangular, not square. Sound good?”

Rai nodded, shifting the stretcher bars to one hand and drinking his water. Poppy watched him, relieved that he was taking several swallows. She absolutely wasn’t watching him for the pleasure of seeing his throat work. Not at all.

Oh, who was she kidding? If it wouldn’t get her banned from the store for life, she’d be begging him to have his way with her on the huge cutting table behind them.

She’d thought that getting together would calm her hormones a bit, but nope, they were as hormoney and hungry as day one.

She shoved the vision down and grabbed a tall roll of canvas to bring to the girl working the cutting table.

It didn’t take long to gather the rest of her supplies—gesso, some paint to complete her palette, a few new brushes.

Rai followed her like a puppy, carrying the stretcher bars and asking questions.

Which wasn’t surprising—it was an old store, and the dusty vintage furnishings made it seem like a witchcraft emporium rather than a glossy modern craft-store chain.

That was why Poppy liked it. Rai’s enchanted expression gave her a warm fuzzy feeling inside, a we-like-the-same-things vibe.

The warm feeling stayed right until the end, when she approached the checkout counter. The clerk, an elderly woman with a froth of white hair, gave her a vague friendly smile that almost immediately shifted to a look of recognition. “You’re Norman Farber’s daughter, aren’t you?”

Poppy froze, cash in hand. “Yes?” She dug into her fractured memory for a hint of recognition.

The clerk’s expression softened. “I’m so sorry. You must think I’m quite rude. He used to show me your… What is it called? Instamatic?”

“Instagram.” Poppy took a deep breath and forced herself to relax, handing over the money.

Rai’s hand landed on the small of her back. “Is aught amiss? ”

“I’m fine.” Poppy cast him a smile that she hoped was bright. She failed, if the way he began to stroke her back was any sign.

The clerk made change, her hands moving briskly though her face had grown sorrowful.

“I was so sorry to hear he had passed. It was a great loss for the artistic community. So few painters nowadays have such classical skills.” She clasped Poppy’s hand when handing over the change. “I am so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” Poppy held back a wince. “He…taught me a great deal, though I’m not...” She didn’t know how to finish that thought. Not as skilled? Not as classical? Not at all the same? She wanted to be all of the above, but she knew she fell short.

“It’s lovely to meet you at last. Will you be in town long?” With a final squeeze the clerk released her hand.

“I live here now.” Poppy leaned slightly closer to Rai’s comforting presence.

“How lovely!” The woman’s smile brightened. “Will we be seeing your work in a local gallery soon?”

“Maybe.”

“Poppy has drawings for sale at the place with the ants,” Rai said eagerly.

“Ants?” The clerk blinked.

“Cafe Legend,” Poppy said, hurriedly gathering the bag with her smaller purchases.

“Ah.” Either disdain or disappointment colored the woman’s voice. “Well, perhaps you’ll be ready for a real gallery someday.”

“Here’s hoping!” Poppy chirped. She turned swiftly to Rai, whose face was thunderous as he glared at the clerk. “Do you mind carrying the big things?”

He turned to her, expression gentling. “Of course. You know my strength.” He gathered the stretcher bars and the larger bag with the folded canvas into his arms.

“Thanks,” Poppy said, forcing a wide smile back in place before turning back to the clerk.

“Thank you so much. I’ll be sure to send an invitation when I have a show.

” Which may be when hell freezes over. The clerk seemed to agree with that unspoken sentiment, giving her a patronizing simper along with her formulaic parting words.

Poppy hurried out the door, almost relieved when the heat hit her like a brick wall. Nothing like a shock to the system to get over a shock to the soul.

Rai appeared before her. “That woman upset you.”

“Yes and no.” Poppy caught Rai’s arm when he coiled as if to rush back inside. “It’s not a big deal. Just… Dad left big shoes to fill.”

Rai looked at Poppy’s feet. “You are wearing his shoes? They seem to fit properly. ”

“Don’t worry about it.” She leaned her head against his shoulder for a moment. “Let’s head back before we’re people jerky. You done with your water? I can take your bottle, since your hands are full.”

He shifted on his feet. “I am…not done.” He moved his burden to one arm and took a quick drink.

Poppy frowned. His water bottle was almost full. Hadn’t she watched him drink it dry upstairs? “Okay. Um, you got all of that?”

Rai gave a vigorous nod and strode in the direction of her house.

She fell in beside him, glancing sidelong as they walked.

He kept drinking, but his water bottle never seemed to get empty.

Every time she was about to offer to take it from him, it was full again.

Was she imagining things? Heat mirages were a common phenomenon, but in Tucson they were usually hazy waves on the asphalt, not mysteriously refilling water bottles.

“You are watching me,” Rai said abruptly when they were almost home.

“I was just wondering…” Poppy stuffed her weird paranoid imaginings down. “Do you want to see my sketches of you?”

“You have already drawn me?” His face lit up.

She bit her lip. “A little. You were…on my mind.”

His smile turned sly. “Was I?”

“You know you were. Are.” She nudged him with her shoulder.

“I am honored,” he said, low and rumbly. “You have also been on my mind.”

Poppy shivered and hurried a bit ahead, fumbling with her keys. “Let me get the door for you.”

Rai followed her back to the studio, depositing his burden on the work table. Poppy dropped her own bag beside her easel, turning to gather the sheaf of upside-down sketches off the drafting table. She was just turning back to Rai when there was a hollow clatter of plastic.

He met her gaze with wide, guilty eyes. A heap of empty water bottles rolled around his feet.

“Whoops. Here, let me help you.” Poppy bent and started to gather bottles. “You know, you didn’t need to bring all of these back here.” He must have left them on the work table earlier.

“I…am sorry,” he said, scooping up bottles beside her.

“No worries.” Poppy dumped the bottles in the sink and shyly held out the sketches. “They’re…not very good. I was going mostly from memory. ”

Rai took the sketches, leafing through them. “They are amazing!” He paused on the last one, going suddenly still.

Poppy leaned in closer. “Oh. Oh, not that one!” She tried to take it from him.

He jerked it out of her reach, still staring. “How did you…?”

“With a pencil?” She managed to snag it, dragging it away. “Sorry. I… Well, my mom likes fantasy art. When I thought I wasn’t going to see you again, I thought she’d like… So I gave you wings.”

He gazed at her in silence, his face unreadable.

“I’m sorry,” Poppy said at last.

“Do not be,” he said, handing her the rest of the sketches. “I am…not offended.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead, an oddly chaste one. “It is lovely to be…seen by you.”

She smiled, nerves filling her throat. “So… I was thinking we could stretch the canvas to start? I’ll call the tow truck, too, now that we’re here to give them the keys.”

He gave her a brilliant smile. “I have never stretched canvas. You must instruct me in how I may assist.”

It had been a long time for Poppy—she hadn’t painted for years before returning to Tucson, and had worked on cheap pre-stretched canvases since then—but with a quick Google refresher, it came back to her quickly.

Rai was an eager assistant, if a bit clumsy, and he hadn’t been kidding about his strength; with his hands pulling on the canvas while she stapled, they were able to get it tight as a drum.

They would have been done in record time, too, if Rai weren’t so darn thirsty.

On his tenth-or-so glass of water, Poppy settled back on her heels laughing. “You drink more water than anybody I’ve ever met.”

He stilled mid-quaff. “Do I?” He set the glass down with a clunk. “I will drink less.”

“No, it’s fine. Honestly, most of us don’t get enough water. Drink up.” Poppy nodded at him until he picked up the glass again. “Though I may be feeling differently when the water bill comes next month.”

“You pay for your water?” Rai’s face was horrified.