Maybe she’d discovered that he’d been snooping into her personal life? Caleb might have said something about the burglary or asked too many questions about why she was here.
A flash of headlights lit the living room. Natalie was home.
He had a choice to make. He could stay on his side of the cottage, pounding words into his laptop or he could ask her if everything was okay.
After deleting and rewriting the same paragraph three times, he made his decision. He’d talk to Natalie.
He opened his front door and frowned. Natalie was trying to take a long package out of the bed of her truck. He jogged toward her. “It looks like you could do with a hand.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “I should be okay.” Wiggling the large, bulky package sideways didn’t make it move. She opened the tailgate and peered under the topper.
Gabe shone his cell phone’s flashlight into the cargo area. “This might help.”
Natalie leaned forward and sighed. “The edge of the packaging is caught on a screw. I hope it hasn’t damaged the canvases.”
He glanced at the size of the parcel. It was huge—at least five feet long and four feet wide. “They’re going to be impressive paintings.”
“They will be if I can get the canvases inside. I’ll have to remove the topper.”
Gabe slid his phone into his pocket and flicked open the catches on his side of the truck. It was just as well Natalie had parked close to the back door. Without the security lights, they wouldn’t be able to see what they were doing.
“Where did you find them?”
“I always buy my canvases from a store in Chicago. They stretch each piece of canvas onto a frame and prime the surface for me. Mabel called this afternoon to tell me they’d arrived.”
By the time Gabe finished lifting the catches, Natalie was ready to lift the cover off the truck.
“Where do you want the topper?” he asked.
Natalie looked behind her. “Over there will be okay.”
They each took a side, carefully maneuvering it onto the ground.
Natalie walked back to the truck and unhooked the packaging from the screw.
He waited by the tailgate. “I’ll help you take them inside.”
“I’ll be all right. The canvases aren’t heavy.”
The package was larger than Natalie. There was no way she’d be able to lift it into the cottage on her own. “It’s an awkward size. Where are your house keys?”
She reached into her pocket and held up a key ring. “Here.”
“If you open your back door, I’ll carry it inside. Tell me if I’m going to hit anything.” Gabe lifted one side of the wrapped canvas and balanced it on the bed of the truck.
Instead of unlocking the back door, Natalie didn’t move. “You don’t need to help me. I’m perfectly capable of moving it inside.”
“Maybe I want to help.”
“Why?”
He took a deep breath. Telling the truth had never been so hard. “Because I’m feeling guilty. I know who you are and what happened in Italy.”
Natalie’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“Two of your paintings were stolen from your apartment in Venice. A third painting had already been sent to Bozeman for an exhibition.”
“How do you know what happened?”
