Page 32 of Sinful Skulls (Rebel Skull MC #9)
Chapter Thirty
Daisy
D irk follows me around the studio as I load his arms with the paintings I need to run over to the shop.
“You coming back to work on the one in the corner?”
“Yeah, if that’s okay?”
“It is.”
“What’s in the box?”
“Oh, it’s a gift from someone at the art school I was at.”
“Why haven’t you opened it?”
“I … well, I’ve already seen it. I’ll open it when I get it home.”
He makes a humming noise as we walk out the door. I shut the light off, wondering what the hell I was thinking even bringing it here. I should have tossed it in the nearest dumpster.
“You can look at either of them if you want, but it would probably embarrass you.”
Why the hell did I just say that?
“Naw, I don’t want you to have to open the box. It will be easier for you to get it home if it’s packaged.”
We make it all the way out to the truck before he adds, “But I’d love to see the one you’re working on.”
“Oh, yeah, I guess.” I bend over sucking in a deep breath. “Are you sure? Because like I said, it’s a little embarrassing.”
“I don’t get embarrassed,” he says, wrapping his arm over my shoulders and guiding me back inside.
“Okay, so I mean for me. It’s embarrassing for me.”
“You shouldn’t be embarrassed by your art.”
“But sometimes I am,” I say honestly.
“Well, then this will be good therapy. It’s time you start letting the world see your art.”
“What do you mean? You just saw all of the paintings we loaded up.”
“That’s your public art. I want to see what lights your soul on fire.”
Oh, he’s going to see it all right.
Before I know it, we’re back in the studio.
“Okay, so like this is your final warning. It’s graphic, okay?”
He circles his hands. “Come on already. You’re stalling.”
I turn the easel around and step back.
When my eyes land on it, I wince. I’d almost forgotten the anger I felt when I’d finished the piece. Anger that is splashed in red across the canvas.
Neither of us say anything.
No one other than Brody and my uncle have seen this side of my work. I’m literally terrified by what he must be thinking about me.
“It’s exquisite.”
“Exquisite?”
Dirk takes a step forward. “Daisy, this is insanely good.”
“Yeah, I guess, well, I should get going.”
He grabs my arm. “I don’t give compliments often.”
I rub my chin over my shoulder, avoiding his gaze. “It’s ruined,” I whisper.
His eyes bounce between me and the painting. “What do you mean it’s ruined? It’s perfect.”
“It’s not supposed to be splattered with red. I messed it up.”
He pinches my chin and turns my head, forcing me to look at him. “I don’t think you did.”
“I did.”
“I think your creativity took over. It’s not ruined. It’s raw.”
My head falls, and he hugs me. “Whatever you need to tell Brody about what happened in Paris, you need to do it soon. I promise it will set you free.”
I pull away from him. “Gosh, I’m so sorry. We hardly know each other, and here I am with a risqué painting of myself, crying to you. I’m sorry.”
I turn to run up the stairs, completely mortified. He catches up to me before I get to the truck.
“Brody can help you. This club can help you. You didn’t stumble across us by accident. The fucking universe dumped your ass here.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I get in, but he stops me from closing the door. I take a deep breath and look at him. “I’ll get it out of your basement by the end of the day. Can we please just forget about it?”
His eyebrow rises as he stares at me. “Yeah, yeah, we can forget about it.”
My shoulders fall in relief. “Thank you. It was very inappropriate of me to paint that in your home. I’m really really sorry. I meant no disrespect. I … I don’t know. I’m just not right up here.” I tap my head sadly and then close the door.
He watches me drive away.
God, I’m such an idiot. I just need to get these dropped off at the shop, and then I’ll go back and get the paintings I left behind and burn them. Brody has a fire pit out back. I’ll burn them all.
Even the one of my birth mother.
I can do that.
Then I can go back to being normal.