He kissed me softly, brushing my hair from my forehead. “I’m so proud of you, Jess. You turned this house into an art gallery. I’ve never seen such cool stuff in my life.”
I lowered my eyes with a lopsided smile. I’d always been awkward at receiving compliments. Sebastian’s words meant more than anything to me.
“Thanks. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Don’t work too late. You promised we’d catch a movie,” he reminded me.
“And you promised me homemade pizza.”
“It shall be done. I’ll hit the gym after work, then put on my apron when I get home.”
He gave me a noisy kiss and rushed out. Despite my protests, he’d followed me here on his motorcycle so he’d have transportation. I didn’t like him riding that damn thing, but I tried not to act like a nagging wife. He knew my concerns, and this was the first time he’d ridden the bike since we’d reconciled. I was going to have a serious talk with him and convince him to sell it. If necessary, I’d act all girly and take out my lady weapons. Yes, I would sink that low for the sake of his life and my peace of mind.
After Sebastian left, I put on my work gear and carried my supplies upstairs to the master bedroom. Most of the house had been decorated according to the sketches I’d discussed with Ben. When he returned, I’d see if he wanted anything else. Today, I planned to finish the mural—that eerie, foggy night on a cold lake. I’d chosen blue and yellow as the main colors, with many shades of gray for the fog. I wanted to add a dramatic sky above, full of contrast, yet not menacing. That was going to be a challenge.
I set up my ladder, prepared my spray cans, started my playlist, and got to work. I realized too late I’d forgotten to turnup the AC, but I was too focused to pause. Besides, I was cool enough in my cutoff jeans and sports shoes without socks.
A couple of hours later, I’d sweated through my faded blue T-shirt, my hair felt like I’d taken a shower, and I was convinced my arms would fall out of their sockets. My fingers ached and trembled from the constant controlled pressure on the sprayers.
I was thinking about taking a break, when I heard a man clearing his throat behind me.
Too tired to jump in fear, I turned slowly, careful not to fall off the ladder. Ben stood in the doorway, a wide smile on his face and a bottle of champagne in his hand. He was tanned, his hair blonder than usual—sun or salon, I couldn’t tell. He looked fresh as a summer day in beige slacks and a white shirt.
“Well now, that’s a view to come home to.” He gave me a blinding smile, his eyes moving over me unnervingly slowly, making me aware of every inch of my sweaty body.
“Ben, I didn’t know you were coming today.” I raked my fingers through my hair and climbed down the ladder.
His gaze lingered over my breasts. It was suicide to wear a bra in this heat, doing this kind of work, so I’d gone without, not knowing Ben would show up unannounced. I bent and grabbed my towel, wiped off my face and hair, then casually hung it around my neck, grateful it was large enough to cover my chest.
“I was supposed to be there until next week,” Ben explained, “but I was tired and eager to come home.” He took in the nearly finished mural. “This is splendid! I could watch this for hours. Now I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to paint the ceiling. This will challenge my imagination to find different ways to enjoy the view when I’m in bed.” He winked.
I gave him a half smile. The discussion was making me slightly uncomfortable. I did not want to imagine Ben in bed. Despite his athletic figure, I didn’t find him attractive.
I opened my water bottle and drank deeply. Before I could cap it, Ben reached out and took it from my hand. He wiggled the champagne bottle instead.
“Don’t fill up on water, save some room for this,” he said in a singsong voice.
“I don’t drink on the job, remember? Unless we’re celebrating something.”
He glanced around. “It looks to me like you’re pretty much done, which calls for a celebration. Am I right?”
I swiped the towel over my forehead. We really needed to turn up the AC. It was sweltering.
“I’m pretty much done,” I admitted. “Have you seen the rest of the house?”
“Only the downstairs. Your singing guided me up here and into the bedroom.” His tone was unmistakably flirty.
I hoped he wouldn’t take my burning cheeks as encouragement. I was mortified at the thought of anyone hearing my crappy singing.
“Let me give you the grand tour then.” I guided him out.
We walked from room to room, starting with the upper floor. I pointed out my work, explaining the themes I’d chosen and why. Ben looked truly pleased, a permanent smile plastered on his face.
“I’m done with most of the walls.” I descended the stairs, with Ben behind me, still holding the champagne. “I’ve also sketched out some paintings and ideas for clay work, but those will take another couple of weeks.” I stopped at the bottom. “For instance, I was thinking of creating a vase for a coffee table. About twenty inches tall, portraying a bust of Aphrodite. The top of her head would be open, containing an arrangement of immortal flowers—those cryogenic flowers that last for dozens of years.”
He was awestruck. “That is a spectacular idea. You’re simply brilliant, a genius, I swear.”
Pleased, I shrugged and walked into the kitchen. “Thank you. It’s just practice.”
