He shrugs. “It's okay. I'm not sure about the face. My snake doesn't look anything like Rosie.”
I put my hand on his shoulder and squeeze it gently. “Let me see. Well, I think your brush strokes are splendid. Maybe next week you can work on adding a little bit of white here,” I say, pointing to the body of the snake. “That should help give you a little more definition. But I think you're wrong. Rosie will be very proud of her portrait.”
“You really think?” he asks, his eyes, which have so much of Fletch in them, looking a little hopeful.
“I'm absolutely sure. Don't worry, I'll help you if you get stuck, okay?”
He nods.
“Now go wash your brushes and leave them by the sink before you finish.”
“Thank you, Arlo.”
I ruffle his hair and move on to another student. The door to the barn opening catches my attention, and I look toward the corner area where some parents are waiting for the end of the class.
Sage has created a nifty little corner with a few couches, a coffee machine, and a box of cookies.
Fletch walks in looking like the angelic sex on legs he is and waves at me. He's wearing a tighter than usual pair of jeans and a Henley that may as well be painted on.
What happens next is filed in my mind as adefinitely, one hundred percent, must ask about later.
Fletch heads to the coffee machine, walking right in front of Harrison, whose eyes follow Fletch's ass. You can't blame the guy because Fletcher has a perfect body, except Harrison looks as though he doesn't like that he's enjoying the view.
His furrowed brows are joined by a scowl when Fletcher bends over to take a clean coffee cup from the cabinet under the coffee machine.
A tug on my apron gets my attention, so I turn back to my little artists-in-the-making.
“How's it going, Megan?”
“I can't make the stripes go straight,” she says, letting out a frustrated huff.
“Wanna see a neat trick?”
She nods.
I show her how to use one hand to anchor the other to help keep it steady and then paint a black line for her.
“Wow,” she says.
“You can practice at home until one day you won't need the other hand to help. You can stop here if you want and continue next week when you've practiced your lines. Don't forget to clean the brushes.”
She smiles and then looks over at her dad. Her face goes a little sad.
“Is everything okay, sweetie?”
She shrugs. “Daddy doesn't look too happy.” Then she looks at me. “Do you think he needs ice cream? Ice cream always makes me feel better.”
“I think that's an excellent idea. Tell you what, why don't you go ask your dad, and I'll look after your brushes?”
She gives me a hug and runs off to her dad, jumping onto his lap and whispering in his ear. Harrison's face lights up, and he says something to her that earns him a hug before they leave the room.
I check the work of the other students, giving them pointers for the next class before I get to my favorite one.
“Hey, Ladybug, am I allowed to see your painting yet?” Ava's ladybug painting has shown a lot of promise. She definitely has an eye for color and depth. I couldn't be more proud of the little girl that stole my heart right alongside her dad. I didn't even see them coming.
“Okay, you can see it now,” she says, and I go around her to see the painting. She finished the ladybug last week but wanted to add something else and wouldn't tell me what it was.
When I look at the painting, I'm lost for words.
