“You supposed to be painting like a beginner, not Picasso.”
“Boy, please.” I laughed, shaking my head. My eyes drifted to his canvas, and the sound caught in my throat. “Okay, what in the hell is that supposed to be?”
He lifted his canvas from the easel and turned it toward me like he was so proud. I stared at the black smudges and blue streaks with my mouth wide open.
“It’s what you told me to paint,” he said defensively.
“I said paint what you feel.”
“And I did.”
“You feel like a kindergartener?”
“Girl, this is abstract. I’m expressing my stress.” He laughed.
“If you’re that stressed, I am not doing my job,” I muttered, flicking a small amount of baby-pink acrylic paint at his arm.
“Nah, you doing your job. Doing it good, too.” He blinked, and a small smirk crossed his face as he reached for his own brush.
“Quade! Wait! Don’t you dare—” I squealed as paint splashed across my chest. “Oh, that’s what we’re doing?”
“You started it.” He shrugged, and I flicked another splatter of paint at him.
“Keep playing, and you’re gonna be spread eagle on the floor with paint up yo’ ass.”
I leaned back in my seat, barely able to contain the laugh that escaped me.
“You over there laughing, but I’m serious.” Quade cocked his head and gave me that slow, dangerous grin he made when he was about to have my ass folded like a pretzel. He made his way toward me, slow and sexy.
“Oh, I know you are,” I said, holding his gaze. “And that’s exactly what makes it so funny.”
“Oh, I’m a joke to you?” He leaned down and kissed my lips.
“Mmm.” I hummed, still smiling into his mouth as his arms wrapped around me, preparing to lift me. Before we could get lost in the moment, a knock sounded at the front door. Quade groaned dramatically.
“I got it,” he mumbled, irritated that whoever was at the door was ruining the moment. I followed behind him in my chair. When his body stilled as he looked through the peephole, my heart sank.
“Who is it? Is it press?”
“Nah, my damn family.” He unlocked the door and swung it open without even giving me a chance to prepare.
“Noa, this is my big sister Jessica, my nephew Zy, and her boyfriend Ron. He owns Northside,” Quade rushed out as his sister stormed into my house, curls bouncing, with a big buff man and a teenage boy trailing behind her.
“You don’t have enough sense to come home, huh?” she started, hand on her hip. “I got to do a pop-up just to make sure you are still breathing. I know the blogs have been doing a lot, but falling off the face of the Earth ain’t gonna help nothing.”
I smiled at Quade’s sister. He’d told me she’d practically raised him, so I understood her overprotective, motherly energy. I liked it, and that made me more nervous. What if she didn’t think I was good enough for her brother?
“I’ve sent you multiple texts, Jess. Plus, I was checking in with Ron every day.”
“I told her you were fine and not to come over here,” Ron said as he closed the door behind them. My eyes darted around my foyer as I closed up my robe. I wasn’t sure if I should speak or just stay quiet.
“And yet, here you all are,” Quade replied dryly.
“I’m here on business,” Ron said, raising both brows. “I wanted to see the progress of the home.”
Quade smirked. “Right. And I guess Zy is the intern?” He gestured at his nephew, and his sister rolled her eyes.
“Nah, he’s here because Mr. Sneaking Girls in the House over there can’t be trusted home alone,” Jess said.
