Page 36 of Third Time Lucky

LUCY

‘This date is a little bit unconventional,’ Asher comments as he parks in front of the restaurant.

‘There’s nothing unconventional about you making me dinner. When you’re not around, I dream of it.’

‘You dream of me?’ he asks, smirking.

‘Um… mostly your cooking, but you’ve definitely made an appearance,’ I admit sheepishly.

Super-smooth, Luce.

But his expression shows that he doesn’t mind; in fact, my words please him.

He quickly exits his SUV, gracefully making his way around to my side to open the door for me. I love that he is a gentleman.

‘What kind of unconventional are we talking?’ I ask, intrigued by his mysterious proposal. ‘Aaron didn’t plan this, did he?’

He laughs heartily. ‘No. We’re painting something.’

I lift an eyebrow. ‘Painting something inside?’

He nods confidently and swings open the front door, beckoning me inside before following closely behind me.

The atmosphere in this place is constantly in flux, always evolving.

It’s almost unrecognizable from my last visit.

Thick plastic sheets hang from the ceiling, creating a makeshift barrier between the bustling construction work and the rest of the establishment.

All is quiet now, except the rattling of a spray can being shaken at the far end of the room.

With a final click, the door shuts behind him, causing a sudden gust of wind to sweep through the room. The sheets, strewn across the ground, sway and dance like ghosts in its wake.

The sharp, metallic scent of spray paint fills the air, and a woman stands in front of the large blank wall, her body moving fluidly as she creates a masterpiece. Her passion for her craft is evident in every movement, as if she is in a trance-like state, entirely consumed by her art.

‘Lucy, this is Kyrie Fitzgerald, a local legend of the PDX graffiti scene,’ Asher introduces her to me.

Kyrie has shoulder-length dark curls and caramelly light brown skin, and judging by her incredible spray-painting skills, it’s easy to see why she holds such a reputation.

‘Hi,’ Kyrie greets us sweetly as she turns toward us, still wielding the spray paint in her hand.

‘Kyrie, this is Lucy, my date.’

A warm flush spreads over my cheeks as a smile slowly blooms. I am his date, and I can barely contain my excitement over it.

I love hanging out with him. My heart has been racing with anticipation and giddiness since he asked me – and that’s coming from a woman who’d just about given up on love.

It’s as if I stepped into a romance novel, where the pages are filled with enchantment, and the words dance off the page, swirling around me in a whirlwind of wonder.

Back to earth, Luce. Don’t get lost daydreaming this early on.

‘It’s so nice to meet you,’ I tell the woman.

‘So,’ Ash continues, ‘I’ve commissioned Kyrie to paint this wall. We wanted something fun and different. If you’ve ever strolled down Alberta Street or pretty much anywhere in northeast Portland, you probably noticed the buildings covered in brightly painted murals; she created a few of them.’

‘Wow!’ I exclaim. ‘I have noticed. How freaking cool. What are you painting here?’

‘Well, I’ve prepped the wall with this deep turquoise color and outlined the words “Fire and Spice” in tag style. Now you two are going to help me bring it to life.’

The name I came up with! This is so cool.

No way is he knowing it came to me in one of the dreams he appeared in.

One that would make him blush if I gave him details.

We used the bar for… well, you could imagine.

Anyway, I’m a woman who’s not felt a man’s touch in many months – so I’m pretty sure dreaming about it is normal.

‘Fire and Spice,’ I repeat. ‘I still love it.’

‘Lucy is the one who thought of the name,’ he says to Kyrie.

‘Cool,’ she says. ‘It’s a great name. You ready to get started?’

With a kind smile, she gestures toward a couple of white painting coveralls.

After we are suited up, she guides us through a crash course on the art of spray painting.

Showing us how to hold the spray cans and the proper technique for avoiding drips down the walls.

With graceful movements, she demonstrates how to keep the sprays even and consistent.

It’s harder than it looks, but we try to keep up.

‘How’s it looking?’ Ash inquires a bit later, his hands moving with ease as he sprays paint like he sneaks out at night to do this on train cars. He’s a natural.

‘Kyrie’s side is undoubtedly better,’ I chuckle.

Thankfully, she’s trailing behind us to add her finishing touches and make our amateur contributions blend seamlessly into this floor-to-ceiling masterpiece.

With each stroke of her spray can, the wall comes alive with energy and depth, transforming before our eyes into a work of art that commands attention.

* * *

As we step back to admire the finished mural, a sense of pride swells within me.

The ‘Fire & Spice’ tag shimmers with a mesmerizing blend of oranges, blues and purples, forging a visual feast for the eyes.

I can’t believe we had a hand in creating something so beautiful in a place that I’ve no doubt will become one of the Portland restaurants to visit.

‘You both did an amazing job,’ Kyrie praises us, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction.

‘I am honored you’d let me help with this,’ I say to Asher.

He grins. ‘I couldn’t have asked for a better partner in crime.’

‘Right back at ya, handsome.’ The word slips from my lips, but how his eyes light up tells me he’s pleased by my response.

‘You know,’ I say, trying to maintain a nonchalant facade – like I didn’t just call him handsome, but my stomach is doing somersaults because he is, ‘this needs to be the design on the back of the menus.’

‘That’s a brilliant idea, beautiful. It ties everything together perfectly.’

I laugh at the way he throws a compliment back at me mid-sentence.

‘I think it would look fantastic on the menus,’ Kyrie says.

‘It would be amazing,’ I say, grabbing my purse from a nearby table and searching for my phone. I snap half a dozen photos. ‘I can make this work and it’ll be so cool.’

After we help Kyrie gather her things as she prepares to leave the restaurant, Asher grabs my hand, sending a jolt of warmth through me.

‘This was so much fun,’ I say to him. ‘I’ve never been on a better date.’

‘Good, because it’s not over. There’s one more part.’

‘One more part?’ I ask, my voice rising with anticipation. He really did put some thought into this, and I’m delighted he did because I’m not ready for this to be over.

He leads me to a hidden staircase in a corner of the restaurant. A heavy velvet curtain obscures its entrance.

‘Shockingly, this next part was Aaron’s doing – a private romantic VIP lounge for the warmer months. Welcome to The Ember Lounge, a play-off your name suggestion.’

He leads the way up the stairs, pulling open a heavy door at the top, and we emerge into a cozy outdoor seating area – still under construction but still completely epic, just like downstairs. My breath catches in my throat as I take in the sight before me – city lights twinkling in all directions.

The space is transformed into a romantic oasis, with outdoor loungers, large umbrellas emitting a light glow, a metal fire pit lit with a blue flame, and a table with wine and a picnic basket. Stunning.

‘Aaron created this?’ I ask, shocked because it’s incredibly romantic and he’s – not.

To be honest, considering he meandered my way while grooving to Flock of Seagulls all those weeks ago, I’d have expected that guy’s rooftop to have bright colors, a smoke machine, neon lighting, and MTV playing on a big screen. But this… ‘It’s beautiful,’ I gush.

‘Yeah, he surprised even me. I think he might be a little deeper than even I knew.’

‘Madi will be so impressed to see he has this side. She’s a total girls’ girl. She’ll love this.’

He stops, our eyes meeting. ‘Do you love this?’

My smile widens as I reach out, touching his hand bashfully. ‘As I said, it’s already my favorite date ever.’

He smiles, relief washing over him. ‘I thought this would be the perfect place for a nightcap and dessert after our artistic endeavors. Just us.’

‘Just us,’ I repeat, the fluttering in my chest growing stronger. ‘You are incredible,’ I breathe out, overwhelmed by his effort to create this surprise.

‘I wanted tonight to be special,’ he says, his eyes reflecting the flickering light of the fire pit. ‘Because you’re special.’

His words cause my heart to skip a beat, and his intense gaze washes over me like molten honey.

‘Were you this sweet in high school because I would remember if Isabelle had been talking non-stop about this – and just like Kris gushed about me, she did about you. For sure, she would have told me.’

Isabelle was his girlfriend when Kris and I were dating. She was tall, blonde and beautiful – the head cheerleader and once voted ‘most potential’ of his class. I wonder: whatever happened to her?

He rumbles a laugh. ‘Isabelle, wow, I haven’t thought about her in a long time. She was my, uh?—’

‘First?’ I ask, with a sly smile. ‘Yeah, she did tell me about that. How do you think I knew you weren’t in Vegas to lose your virginity?’

His eyes widen, with a nervous laugh. ‘Fair enough. Though, I don’t know how I feel about her giving you details. I wasn’t exactly Mr Romance as a teen. And if she told you the story – I hope to God she didn’t – you already know that.’

It’s not a terrible story. He got excited it was his first time and well – you know how that goes.

But for the record, once he recovered physically and emotionally (according to Isabelle), she was pleasantly surprised at multiple aspects of their ‘encounter.’ Now that he’s a full grown man with experience under his belt – pun intended – it’s got me wondering…