No matter what he did or didn’t do, he couldn’t seem to find inspiration in anything. Sighing, he threw the rag down onto the drop cloth beneath his bare feet. Some days, he really felt like giving up on the whole fucking thing.
Maybe he wasn’t supposed to have a masterpiece. Maybe he was just supposed to be a mediocre painter who would sell his pieces in a little gallery for ten dollars each, so people could hang them over their mantels and never even look at them.
Fuck that,he thought in disgust.
He didn’t want to paint something for some suburbanite to hang up and dismiss every time she walked into her living room. He wanted to create something that moved people—a piece so fucking brilliant that people would cry when they looked at it. He wanted to alter their emotions and to touch their soul.
A little over a year ago, when he’d been living in the States, he found out through his father’s will that he had acquired an old family vineyard in France. Having lost his mother at an early age, he had seen no reason to remain in America and decided he might as well try his luck in France.
He had somehow stupidly assumed that he’d move over there and suddenly create the next world-renowned artistic piece. What he hadn’t expected was to feel absolutely nothing.
Walking over to the window in his studio, he watched the workers who were picking the grapes from the vines. He’d decided that if he was going to take over this property, he wanted to revitalize the vineyard that made Chateau Tibideau.
At least I did that part right.
As his eyes moved over his workers, he was surprised to spot a woman with Beau, his foreman. He’d never seen her there before. From where he was standing, all he could make out was long black hair. He could see she was wearing some kind of flowing white peasant skirt and a blue blouse that kept shifting with the slight breeze.
Almost as if she could feel his eyes on her, she turned around, looking up to the window where he was standing. As their eyes met, he felt something in the air change.
Desire,he thought as he gripped the window frame.Strange, intense, and unexplainable desire.
Before another moment passed, he turned and made his way to the stairs, determined to get to her. He was determined to meet her.
Taking the steps two at a time, he became almost desperate to get outside. He needed to meet the woman who had felt his stare and turned to meet his gaze as if he had called out to her.
Rounding the corner of the kitchen, he pushed open the door and made his way out to where he had seen her. As he hurried around the side of the west turret, he literally ran into the woman he had been searching for.
“Well, hello.” He chuckled, raising his hands to grip her shoulders.
Unable to brace herself, it seemed as though she hadn’t seen him at all.
“Please let me go,” she replied almost instantly.
“Oh, good. You’re American.”
Removing his hands immediately, he took a step back as eyes the color of misty gray looked beyond him. He glanced over his shoulder and then turned back to her.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there,” he explained, hoping to get her attention. “Actually, no, I’m not. You’re even more spectacular up close.”
Her face was spellbinding. Her beauty was stunning, not in a Hollywood kind of way, but more natural. Like nothing he had ever seen before.
A contrast of shadows and sharp angles. Strength and softness. Those eyes of hers…wow.
As she tipped up her chin a little, he smiled, hoping to dazzle her with what he’d been told was an irresistible grin. She didn’t seem impressed; in fact, she seemed to not notice at all.
“Is that supposed to be funny?” she asked.
He frowned for a moment and asked, “Is what supposed to be funny?”
The woman in front of him merely shook her head while she let out a huff of breath.
“Never mind.” She sighed, exasperated. “My uncle told me to come in here and find Mr. Tibideau. I’m supposed to tell him that they’re done for the day.”
He thought the whole exchange was slightly bizarre. Everyone knew that only he and Penelope lived in the house.
Doesn’t this woman know that I am Mr. Tibideau?
“Well, mission accomplished. He now knows, and he’s now intrigued,” he told her, taking a step closer.
