“We were lucky to have Mrs. Kirby as our teacher,” she said. Mrs. Kirby had been grandmotherly and enthusiastic. She’d believed so much in her students that she’d inspired them to believe in themselves.
“Very lucky,” he agreed. “She was a phenomenal teacher.”
“And now you’re that same source of inspiration for a whole new generation of students.” No doubt, a swath of his female students were taking art specifically so they could swoon over Mr. Bryant.
“I hope to be a source of inspiration. Though I can’t fill Mrs. Kirby’s shoes.” Then, dryly, “Especially not the high-heeled pairs.”
On a sound of amusement, Shay moved to the most finished-looking piece of art—a stunning work on a large canvas easily five feet by four feet. Blue, beige, white, and gray, the piece gave testament to the long hours of work he’d invested. It was subtle and calming, yet powerful. An intriguing interplay of texture and color. She considered herself to have a decent eye for art and this was exactly the kind of painting she’d have loved to own.
The longer she pondered it, the more her appreciation grew. “Connor?”
“Yes?” he asked, uncertain. She understood the uncertainty. It always made her feel vulnerable when she allowed others to view her card and stationery designs in progress.
“I think this is brilliant.” She glanced at him.
His expression said,You do?
“Are you ready for me to go poetic on you?” she asked.
“I’m an artist. You can go poetic on me anytime.”
She motioned to it. “It reminds me of thunderclouds departing over water at low light.”
“Thank you.” His gray eyes communicated gratitude.
“You’re welcome.” Their gazes held. Time pulled like sweet caramel.
Who is Molly?Who was the person who was going to score this gem of a man?
If Molly was near Connor’s age and living in Misty River—Wait. She shouldn’t assume this person lived in Misty River. Maybe she didn’t. But if she did, chances were good that Shay knew her. Indeed, that was probably why Connor had declined to reveal Molly’s identity.
She really hoped Molly wasn’t Finley Sutherland from Furry Tails Animal Rescue Center. Finley was gorgeous and a living saint when it came to animals. When compared to Finley, Shay didn’t stand a chance.
“Can I use Thunderclouds Departing Over Water at Low Light as the painting’s title?” he asked.
“Certainly.”
“In fact, I don’t like titling. So, before you go, can you title the rest of these?” His lips curved sheepishly.
“Is Thunderclouds Departing Over Water at Low Light complete?”
“Nearly.”
“When the next one gets to this same stage of completion, let me know. I’ll swing back by to spread more of my titling magic.”
“Deal.”
“Where do you sell these?”
“At a gallery in LA and also the Cameron Gallery here in Misty River.”
“Let’s stop by the Cameron Gallery before we hit the clothing store so I can shower you with more compliments.”
“What if shopping for new clothes takes a lot of time? I wouldn’t want to monopolize your whole evening.”
“I don’t think it’ll take a lot of time. But if it does, great. You’re my best shot at high-quality entertainment today.”
“Nobody’s ever called me high-quality entertainment. Not sure I’ll measure up.”
