Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“Yes, Mr. Powers.” He shook his head and strode to the elevator, knowing his next stop was the gallery.
To see the woman and the place he’d had no intention of visiting ever again.
* * *
Fallon studied the watercolor by a new client, hanging on the free wall space in the gallery. One of the heavy statue pieces blocked the view of the landscape and needed to be moved.
“Clara?” she called out.
“Yes, dear?” Clara Morganville, the gallery owner, asked from her seat behind her antique desk in the back corner of the room.
Clara had owned the gallery for the last twenty years. Because she also owned the property, when the ceramics store went out of business six months ago, she’d approved Fallon’s idea of opening the paint and sip studio next door. They’d broken through the gallery so a door led to the other side, and expanded the business.
“I think this pedestal needs to be moved, don’t you?” Fallon gestured to the blocked painting.
Clara rose from the desk and walked around, eyeing the art from all angles. “I can get Oliver to do it for us so we don’t have to pay for someone to come in and do heavy lifting.”
Since Fallon wasn’t facing Clara, she wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t know Oliver was in town.”
Clara’s son was in imports and exports. He traveled often and had been gone well over two months. Despite him being a businessman and Clara adoring him, he’d always made Fallon uncomfortable.
“He’s back for a while this time and I’m so happy he’s showing an interest in my business. You may find him around the gallery more.”
“That’s wonderful,” Fallon murmured. It wasn’t.
Oliver was arrogant, condescending, and lazy. She’d be surprised if they got the pedestal moved sometime this year. She didn’t want to upset Clara, so she kept her thoughts about her son to herself.
Chimes sounded from next door where Sylvie was hosting a party, so Fallon wasn’t needed on the paint and sip side.
“Fallon?” Sylvie called out seconds later. “You have two little someones here looking for you!” She walked into the gallery with the twins following behind her.
Both girls had big grins on their faces and no parent or guardian with them. When their father realized they were missing, he was going to lose his mind.
“Hi, girls! What are you two doing here… alone?”
They glanced at each other as if each held the answer. “Dad’s at work,” Dylan said at last.
“And where are you supposed to be?” Fallon asked as she pulled her phone from her skirt pocket, immediately opened it, and tapped the number she’d called him on last time.
Noah answered on the first ring. “Tell me they’re with you.”
The panic in his voice reached inside her and she looked at his twins. “Yes. I’ll keep them with me until you get here.”
“Thank you.” He breathed out the words in a gruff voice that had her lady parts tingling. She imagined him using that voice while those large hands aroused her and a strangled sound escaped her lips. “See you soon.” She quickly disconnected the call.
“Can you tell us about your painting?” Dakota asked.
Fallon sighed. As much as she wanted to lecture them about running off again, it wasn’t her place. Noah would burst in soon and handle his children.
Clara walked over, taking her time as she approached from the back end. In her pantsuit and dark hair streaked with gray and pulled into a bun, she appeared the motherly type and acted it as well. She smiled wide when she took in the twins.
“Who do we have here?” she asked.
“Dakota and Dylan, this is Clara Morganville. Clara owns the gallery.”
Clara stepped closer. “Hi, girls. I love your names.”
“Thanks!” they said at once.
Tipping her head, Clara asked, “Who’s who?”
“I’m Dakota.” She waved with a grin.
“That must make you Dylan!” Clara applauded herself as if she’d accomplished a miracle.
Both girls giggled, the sound warming Fallon’s heart. They were adorable kids.
Though Dylan’s hair was down today, as was her sister’s, Fallon had figured out the identity question already. She knew Dakota was more likely to give away information and ask questions, while Dylan held back. By personality alone, Fallon could already recognize each twin. By looks? Not so much without a difference in hairstyle and being alerted to identity.
“Look what I happened to find in my bag!” Clara held out two lollipops and the girls grinned.
“What color?” she asked them.
“Red!” Dylan said.
“Yellow.” Dakota spoke next.
Clara handed them the candy.
“Thank you,” they said, proving Noah and their mother had instilled good manners in them.
Since she didn’t know how far Noah’s office was from here, she walked the girls over to her painting they’d admired and began to give them a lesson on modern art. Dakota leaned in, soaking in the details while Dylan was more mesmerized by the colors that had drawn her to the painting to begin with.