Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
It wasn’t glamorous.
It was a simple life.
And if it had also involved banging my hot husband every night, it would have been a perfect life.
A life I’d always dreamed of.
Which made it infinitely dangerous to me.
“I’ll show you my favorite,” Jared suddenly said, tugging on my hand.
He pulled me through the crowd, most of them turning to peer at us curiously as we passed. Then he stopped me in front of one of my larger pieces. It was a landscape, inspired by the northern lights. I’d visited Shetland in February. It was my first time on the island and the couple who ran the B&B I’d stayed at couldn’t have been kinder. They pretty much adopted me on that trip, and they’d taken me to see the northern lights. It was one of the most wondrous moments of my life.
I’d painted the greens and yellows and pinks as if they’d been misted by rain, some lines splattered with a thickness to create texture. Shards of thinly sliced opal mingled with the paint, reflecting light and shimmer against flecks of metallic glitter. Darker shadows created the mountains at night. And through the paint I’d sprinkled tiny garnets over the mountains to emulate garnets that were found on the rocks on Shetland. A line of copper paint represented the sunset the evening I’d seen them, haloing the dark mountains.
This was one of my favorite pieces I’d ever done. “This is your favorite?” I asked in awe.
Jared nodded, studying it with genuine appreciation in his eyes. “I think it’s stunning. It’s the northern lights, right?”
I bit my lip to stop the cheesy grin. The art was titled Shetland, so the fact that he understood what I’d attempted to capture was huge. “It is.” I turned to him, and Jared faced me. “It’s so weird … this is one of my favorite pieces ever. Michelle really had to talk me into selling it.”
“Aye?” He frowned. “Don’t sell it, then. If you want to keep it, you should. You’re allowed to enjoy the art you create.”
Studying the glass, I realized he was right. I’d let Michelle convince me to sell this one because I thought as an artist, I was supposed to share everything I created. But … why couldn’t I keep this one for me?
“It would look great above the fireplace instead of that old mirror we have now,” Jared murmured thoughtfully.
He wanted to put my art in the farmhouse?
My heart skipped a freaking beat.
“Let me just find Michelle and tell her to stick a SOLD sign on it.”
Jared grinned. “You do that.”
Michelle’s gallery in Inverness was not a huge space. This was my second time showing at her gallery, and the place was more packed than it had been the first time. Aria had been set to attend until I learned this weekend was the only chance she had to see North while he was shooting on location in Paris. Otherwise, she wouldn’t see him for another few weeks. I’d told her to go visit her husband. I had mine to keep me company.
As for the rest of our friends, I hadn’t told them about the show. It was easier to be vulnerable with strangers about my work than with those who knew and cared about me.
Approaching Michelle, I commented on how busy the gallery was.
“I told you people are loving your work. I’ve been sending pieces all over the country.” Michelle gave my shoulders a squeeze. “You’re one of my top artists, Allegra. You should be so proud of yourself.”
I did feel a swell of pride. Grinning, I replied, “Speaking of, I want you to put a SOLD sign on Shetland.”
“Ooh.” Her blue eyes rounded with excitement. “Did someone else offer on it?”
“Else?”
“Yes, it’s already been bought. I was just about to put a sticker on it.”
“Well, unsell it. I’m keeping it.”
Her expression fell. “That’s one of your most expensive pieces.”
Now I squeezed her shoulder. “You’ll still get your commission, but it’s too special to me. I’m sorry. I can’t sell it.”
She nodded with a sigh of understanding. “Okay. But you have to talk to Paul Gunner. He wanted to buy it, and he’s been angling for an introduction all evening. I didn’t want to interrupt your wee tête-à-tête with your husband, but now that you’re here, you can do me a favor and smooth over the fact that he won’t be getting Shetland.”
“Introduce away.”
Paul Gunner turned out to be a good-looking blond in what I’d guess to be his early forties. He was dressed sharp in a custom three-piece suit, and I clocked the twenty-thousand-dollar Tag Heuer watch on his wrist. The dude had money. No wonder Michelle wanted me to take time to meet with him. As soon as she disappeared to place a SOLD sign on Shetland, however, Mr. Gunner stepped a little too far into my personal space.