Page 31 of The Love Ambush (The Sullivans #1)

Gentry

I stare out into the darkness beyond the gallery windows and apologize for the five hundredth time. “I’m so sorry I’ve ruined your evening.”

The gallery owner, Holly, frowns menacingly at me.

With spiky black hair that perfectly complements her narrow, fine-boned face and a fierce glare, she can do menacing really well.

“Stop apologizing and let me see what you’ve created.

If I didn’t want to be dragged out of my house at eleven at night to lock this place up, I wouldn’t have told you to stay as long as you want. ”

I completely lost track of time and probably wouldn’t have noticed how late it had gotten if I hadn’t finished the painting.

It’s an oil on canvas of the cherry tree in my backyard back in Catalpa Creek, with a few fanciful additions.

“It’s just a for-fun painting,” I say. “It’s been over a year since I’ve painted anything and it’s definitely not—”

Holly ignores me completely as she stomps to the back room where I’ve been working for the past ten hours straight. She’s a contradiction with her glares, her stomping, and her consistently kind offers to let me use her supplies and stay all night if I want.

The room spins as I turn to follow her, and I realize I haven’t eaten anything since lunch. I breathe deeply until the room steadies again and hurry after her.

Holly studies the painting without saying a word, tilting her head slightly as she takes it in. “Is that a hedgehog peeking out of that knot in the tree? Hedgehogs don’t climb trees.”

“No. Like I said, the painting is just for fun. It’s not—”

“Is all your work magical realism?”

“Yes. I mean, that was the direction I was headed before I quit.”

“You got anything else finished?”

“A few. They’re at home, but I can show you pictures on my phone.”

She waves a hand. “I’ll hang this one here. What’s a reasonable price?”

“Uh, I’ve never—”

She nods. “Eight hundred’s probably the best I can get for it this time of year. Minus whatever it costs me to frame it. Gallery percentage is twenty-five. That work for you?”

There’s no way this painting I completed in ten hours is going to sell at a gallery full of work far more professional than my own. There’s also no risk for me in letting Holly try to sell it. “That’s great. Thank you.”

“It’s not my taste,” she says, still studying my work. “But it’s unique, and you’ve got great color sense and lines. If this one sells before the spring, I’ll be in touch about acquiring more of your work.”

“More of my—”

“Only magical realism,” she says. “And if you start something new, local Yuletide landmarks and Christmas themes do really well here.”

I seriously doubt my painting will sell, but I could definitely use the extra money. “I don’t have time to paint anymore, but I have a few paintings from years ago that might work.” Paintings at least one art professor found amateurish and mediocre.

That gives her pause. She stops and stares at me like she’s only now really seeing me. “When you have talent like yours, you should make time to paint.”

“I mean, I love to paint, but my professors said my work lacks emotion. I wasn’t able to stay in art school long enough to learn to improve.”

She grabs my shoulders and holds me in place to look at my painting.

“Can you actually tell me you can look at this painting and not feel anything? Because I feel all the things. I’m awed by the beauty of the tree and the sunset in the background.

I’m curious about the tree-climbing hedgehog and the alligator with the cherry in its mouth.

Most of all, I feel lonely and threatened, like that poor hedgehog, stuck where it does not belong with the gator waiting to chomp it in its jaws. ”

“You do?”

“What do you feel?”

I stare at my painting, but it’s hard to see beyond the awkward stroke I made in the far corner of the sunset and the way I couldn’t get the cherry blossoms quite wispy enough. But I do know how I felt when I painted it. “Lonely and scared.”

Holly squeezes my shoulders. “See. Talent. Maybe you didn’t have it when you were in school, or maybe your professors are idiots. Were they men?”

“Mostly.”

“Right,” she says. “Idiots.”

“I don’t know—”

She strides into the gallery. “Is your friend on his way? I have someone waiting at home, and they’re not very patient.”

“He should be here any minute. I’ll wait outside.”

“Great.” She grabs a business card from the desk as we walk past and hands it to me. “Text me your contact information. I’ll be in touch.”

I step out into the crisp, chilly night air, and my stomach growls like it’s awakening from a long winter’s nap. My cheeks ache, and I realize I’m smiling. I’ve probably been smiling for hours. I can’t remember the last time I felt this light and happy.

“Want me to wait with you until your friend gets here?” Holly asks.

Brodie’s Range Rover pulls up to the curb with Levi behind the wheel. “This is him.” I turn to Holly and, overcome with happiness and gratitude, I throw my arms around her and hug her tight. “Thank you. This has meant so much more to me than I can ever say.”

She goes stiff, not hugging me back. “Get me some more of your paintings and never hug me again, and we’ll be even.”

I let her go and step back, right into Levi. His warm palm lands on my lower back. “It’s a deal.” Though I can’t imagine when I’ll have time to paint again.

“Have you already locked up?” Levi asks. “Should we pick up the painting tomorrow?”

Holly sighs and looks at me. “You explain it to him. I have a well-warmed bed to get back to.” She turns and walks away before I can answer.

“Wow,” Levi said. “She’s… brisk.”

I turn to him, practically overflowing with happiness. “She’s going to hang my painting in her gallery, and she’s going to ask eight hundred dollars for it. It’ll never sell, but one of my paintings is actually going to be hanging in a gallery.”

His grin is radiant. “That’s amazing, honey. Can I see it?”

I pull my phone out of my back pocket and scroll to the picture I took after Holly said she was going to sell it. I doubt she’s going to ship it all the way to Virginia after it doesn’t sell.

Levi studies the picture for several long moments. “Cute hedgehog. It’s rare to find one in a tree.”

“Hedgehogs don’t climb trees.” That was the whole point, I realize. The hedgehog is stuck in a situation it doesn’t belong in with no safe way out.

“Sure they do,” he says. “Cash was obsessed for a while with an animal rescue site that posted all these videos of hedgehogs they’d saved. There was one that loved to climb.”

“Ugh. That ruins the painting.”

He studies the painting again. “How?”

I’m not about to get into that with him. It’s bad enough that Holly seemed to see straight into my soul through my painting. “We should probably get back to the house.”

Before I can jump into the car, he grips my shoulders and stares me down. “How does it ruin the painting?”

“The hedgehog has to be stuck in a situation it doesn’t belong in for the painting to mean anything.”

He studies my face, then looks back at the painting on my phone screen. “Maybe the hedgehog is in a place most hedgehogs don’t go, and it’s not very happy. But it’s going to figure everything out and get back home safely.”

I laugh. “You’re forgetting about the alligator.”

“The alligator is a vegetarian. That’s why there’s a cherry in its mouth. The alligator and the hedgehog are going to be best friends.”

I shake my head. “I’m not sure if you’re making it worse or better.”

“How can it be worse if the hedgehog finds its favorite being on the planet and they live happily ever after?”

He is impossible to resist. “I do like the sound of that.”

His grin makes me feel a little like I can fly. “How do you feel about the sound of hanging out here until we’re sure the kids are asleep?”

He actually looks nervous and… is that fear in his eyes? “I’m guessing you aren’t the favorite anymore?”

He sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know how you do it. I thought they were happy and fed and then Emily asked to camp out with the reindeer and—”

I press a finger to his lips. “Nope. I don’t want to know yet. Let’s find a quiet place to look at the stars.” My stomach grumbles. “After we find some food.”

“I’ve got cold pizza and Thai,” he says. “And chocolate. I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten or not, and I really don’t want to go back to the farmhouse.”

“Should I be worried they’re causing trouble for Josephine?” I ask.

His shoulders drop. “She was the one who suggested I leave and give everyone a chance to cool off.”

I laugh, still on a high from painting, and loving that I’m not the only one who finds my sisters impossible to deal with sometimes. “I love cold pizza and Thai leftovers.”

He grabs the bag from the SUV, along with a blanket, and laces his fingers through mine. “Let’s find a good place for a midnight picnic.”

The street’s quiet, with only the occasional car drifting by slowly every few minutes. Most people are at home in bed, preparing for another day of work tomorrow.

“I haven’t had a vacation since Mom left three years ago,” I say.

Levi squeezes my hand. “I need a vacation after spending just six hours with your sisters. I don’t know how you do it.”

“If we’re going to do this for real, you’re going to have to spend time with them. There’s no way around it.”

He chuckles. “They’re good kids. I probably shouldn’t have taken them on a two-mile hike without asking if they even liked hiking.”

“Wow. I can’t believe they went. How’d you manage—” I slap a hand over my mouth. I’m doing it. I said I wouldn’t do it, and I’m talking about the kids again.

Levi stops and pulls my hand slowly from my face. “They’re your family and a huge part of your life. I know I’m going to be seeing a lot of them and that you’re going to talk about them. They’re important to me because they’re important to you. Don’t ever apologize for that.”

I drop my head into my hands. “I am not girlfriend material.”