Even though I’d yet to spend a winter on the farm, the image came to my mind in the cold season—the farmhouse aglow in the dark snow, me in a hat and coat, the house beckoning me home to warmth and security. And love. Because though that word had not been shared, I was pretty certain Jared was just as in love with me as I was with him.
It might take him a while to get his mind and mouth aroundI love you, but I could wait.
A small smile prodded my lips as I sauntered down Ness Walk and past the buildings that sat along the River Ness that cut through the city. The north end opened out onto the Beauly Firth by the Kessock Bridge, which would take me home to Ardnoch. Following the river south led to Loch Ness.
Michelle’s gallery was across the river from Inverness Castle. The rain that had brought much respite to the farm this past week had drifted off to parts unknown. Sun beamed across the water of the Ness, lighting up the building that housed Michelle’s gallery. It had to be at least a hundred years old. Inside was a smallish gallery, but she’d created a minimalistic aesthetic broken up into different spaces by walls to separate thegenres of art and artists. The walls were either black or white, so that nothing detracted the eye from the artwork.
A bell jingled above the door as I let myself in.
Michelle looked up from behind the counter and greeted me with a triumphant smile.
“Someone in London bought two of your pieces last night. I spent the morning packing them to ship!”
Delight blossomed through me as I reached her. It never ceased to amaze me that people wanted to pay money for my artwork. I hoped that feeling of wonder never went away and returned Michelle’s high-five with a laugh.
“That is the kind of news I needed to hear today,” I said truthfully.
“I’m glad to be the bearer. Now, what news do you have for me?”
Nervous but excited to show her the painting I was working on, I’d shown her what I could from the photos I’d taken on my phone. The painting was, of course, unfinished and sitting in my rented studio. It wasn’t quite the same as seeing it in real life, but I’d taken a video too so she could see the textures and the light, and the glimmers of metallic paint I’d added here and there for interest.
Unfortunately, my nervousness turned to anxiety as Michelle took my phone and looked over the images for a second time. Her lips pursed and she looked up at me regretfully as she handed the phone back. “It’s not really what I’m looking for. I already sell an artist that does something similar. I like your glasswork, Allegra. It makes you stand out. You should stay in your lane.”
Irritation zinged through me. Utter disappointment too. Because this painting meant a great deal to me. I wanted people to feel that when they looked at it.
If Michelle didn’t …
Stay in my lane?
I guess that’s what you told an artist once you started making money from their art.
Stay in your lane.
It fucking hurt. And it chafed.
Giving Michelle a tight smile, I nodded and made conversation about what had sold since the art show, what pieces were still left.
Relief filled me as soon as I could make an excuse to leave. There might as well have been heavy clouds hanging over Inverness for what little good the sunshine did to lift my mood.
Needing a pick-me-up, I walked across the bridge and traversed the streets until I found the coffee place I liked. It was in the opposite direction of where I’d parked my car, but it was worth it for their latte and croissant. I’d thought earlier about doing a little shopping in the city, but now I just wanted to return to Ardnoch.
As I stepped out of the coffee shop, caffeine and carbs in hand, a tingling sensation on my nape caused me to pause. I looked to the left and locked eyes with an unfamiliar man. What was strange and roused my instincts was that he looked away from me as quickly as possible. He scrolled through his phone, casual, as he leaned against the building.
Something about him was too casual.
I tried to place him but couldn’t. He was dressed in a long-sleeved dark tee and dark jeans and he really didn’t look that threatening. Dark hair, clean cut. But there was tension along the lines of his shoulders that someone who had drawn a shit ton of live-model nudes for four years could easily observe.
My stomach flipped unpleasantly, and I slipped on my sunglasses, trying to shake off the paranoia. For the most part, I could walk around Inverness with anonymity, but occasionally someone recognized me. Trying to remain calm, I strode up thestreet, past him, heading toward the parking lot where I’d left my Wrangler.
That tingling sensation on my neck returned within seconds. Pretending to stop to fumble through my purse, glancing back as if I’d forgotten something at the coffee place, I caught sight of the man walking behind me. He glanced down at his phone again, slowing to a stop outside a pet store.
My heart beat hard in my chest as I faked finding what I’d been looking for in my bag and walked forward again.
Some people might call it being neurotic, but when your sister and friends had a history of being kidnapped, you kind of jumped to worst-case scenario in situations like this. Fumbling for my phone, I called Jared as I strolled into a clothing boutique. I smiled tightly at the blond woman behind the counter as I pretended to peruse the items, all the while glancing outside.
The man had stopped at the building opposite the clothing boutique and was staring inside at me.
Fuck.
