I watch affectionately as she smears the green onto the top corner of the page. It’s going to be a pretty tall tree, because the leaves are higher in the sky than the sun, but I’m not about to comment. Besides, who’s to say it’s not getting close to sunset?
I watch for a bit longer, then brush a kiss to her hair and walk back to the kitchen. “You want a snack, princess?”
She pauses her artwork for a moment and looks at me thoughtfully, turning the question over. “Messy snack.”
“You’ll have to take a break from your painting if you want to eat something,” I say gently. “You don’t want to get paint on your food.”
She nods and smiles. “When I finish?”
I grin in return. “Of course.”
I climb up on one of the kitchen stools and open my laptop, returning to the work I’d just started when Piper texted: working out my set list for the upcoming week. The past three weeks is the longest break I’ve taken from the bar in years and I’ve really missed playing. I definitely want to make sure my return is a rousing success.
Of course, thinking about the bar leads me to thinking about our new bartender.Damon Forrester.Such a sexy name.
That encounter last night was…interesting, to say the least. Gia only hires staff she knows will be able to handle what my Grandma likes to call my “authentic self” and Dad calls my “abrasive charm,” so last night when I sauntered up to Damon and made certain he knew exactly what I thought about him, I was expecting to get an eye roll or maybe a raised eyebrow for my trouble. But discomfort and awkwardness and confusion? That was most definitely not expected. And it was so, so hot.
But it was just that one interaction. I kept an eye on him for a little while after that and he seemed completely at ease. Confident. Capable. Laid back.
And I know it’s probably wishful thinking but I can’t stop my mind from going there anyway…because, damn, he has that look about him. The one that’s my fucking kryptonite—a strong, confident guy who seems toppy but desperately wants to submit.
“Finish picture, Jazz,” Izzy announces. “Snack time.”
I shake away my dirty thoughts of Damon and close my laptop again, sliding off my stool and striding over to Izzy so I can check out her painting. It now has two very tall trees, and a figure at the bottom of the page near the gray thing that I’m guessing is Rufus. It’s a vertical swipe of pink with a brown cloud on top; I’m pretty sure it’s meant to be Piper. “Wow, it looks awesome, Izzy. Is this Piper and Rufus?” I ask, gesturing at the figures and praying I’m right.
Izzy nods, grinning proudly. “Piper’s birthday.”
I blink in alarm. I’d totally forgotten it’s Piper’s birthday next week. Damn, I hate her birthday, she’s the worst person to buy for.
Snapping my brain back to the present, I offer my baby sister a smile. “She’s going to love it. Once it’s dry you can write a birthday message if you want.”
Izzy nods eagerly. “Need to hang up. Deacon hangs paintings up.”
My lips quirk in a wry smile at the open adoration in Izzy’s voice as she talks about her teacher. Yeah, it’s sure going to be interesting to see how Dad and Deacon explain this whole situation to her.
“I don’t have anything to hang it on, princess. But don’t worry, it’ll dry just fine on the table. We’ll move it out of the way so it doesn’t get anything spilled on it.”
“Deacon hangs up,” she insists, her usually sunny face forming into a frown.
I sigh and rub a hand over my face. Despite all her challenges, Izzy is usually pretty easy to manage. She finds happiness in really simple things and her smile is contagious. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t get sad, or angry, or frustrated, and she can definitely throw a doozy of a tantrum if she’s in the mood for it.
Sensing a meltdown on the horizon, I pull out the chair next to her so I can explain the reasoning behind the two different approaches. “The reason Deacon hangs your paintings up is because there are so many of you. If you left them around the room to dry someone might accidentally tear one or spill something or sit on one and get paint all over their bottom.” I grin at her and am glad when she laughs, her eyes lighting up with amusement. “But there’s just the two of us here and we know to be careful.”
She nods. “Okay, Jazz. Very careful.”
“Absolutely.” I grip the edges of the newspaper I laid out underneath her masterpiece before she started and use it to slide the painting to the middle of my ten-seater dining table. And finally, this giant table has actually come in handy.
I stand up and help Izzy down from her chair. “Alright, let’s get those hands washed properly and then we can get your snack. What are you thinking—apple? Cheese? Yoghurt?”
“Cheese and apple,” Izzy says. “And Goldfish.”
Well, that went without saying. I smile wryly as I direct her into the bathroom. I’m not sure if it’s the taste or the shape, but Goldfish crackers have been Izzy’s favorite pretty much since she could chew.
8
Much to my dismay,it only takes two days for my assumptions about Jasper Grimsay’s role at the bar to be completely upended.
“Thankgodwe’ve got Jazz back tonight,” Gia says with a sigh. “People have been getting really antsy.”
