I slip one hand onto his shoulder and push up on my toes. I’ve never dated a man this much taller than I am, and it’s a nice change. I press a kiss to his jawline while he slips a hand around my waist.
I arch my back, my body curving into his as my lips hover just centimeters from his skin. Knowing Anna is taking photos, I stay where I am, breathing in the delicious scent of him.
His grip around my waist tightens, and my free hand lifts to his chest. He’s warm and solid and he smells so good, and it’s a good thing my sister-in-law is taking photos because I’m not sure I could be trusted otherwise.
“Oh, my gosh, this is perfect,” Anna says. “Honestly, the two of you have really great chemistry. There’s no way people won’t believe this is real.”
I immediately drop my hands and take a step back, Anna’s words serving as a stark reminder that itisn’treal.
It’s not that I forgot. With Anna snapping photos, it would be impossible to forget. But I’m not sure I expected to enjoy it so much.
To enjoyhimso much.
I take another step backward and adjust the brown V-neck I put on during our last wardrobe change.
“Good,” I say, my voice sounding unnaturally high. “That’s sort of the point.”
Carter pushes his hands into his pockets. “Do you think we got enough?”
“Definitely,” Anna says, scrolling through her phone. “We can totally make these stretch until you guys start spending time together for real.”
I lift my eyes to Carter’s. I wish I could read his expression.
Tonight has been fun. For me, anyway. And it seems like he’s had a good time too. I’d like to think it willkeepbeing fun. But after spending half an hour touching him, hugging him, feeling his strong arms wrapped around my body, I’m all too aware of how quickly this whole plan could go sideways.
That was Anna’s concern—that I might have a hard time not blurring the lines. But relationships are about so much more than fun. And Carter is a man who, it bears reminding myself, agreed to marry me trusting that the marriage would not, under any circumstances, last longer than a year.
He’s not expecting anything out of this, and neither am I.
Physical chemistry? Okay,fine.There’s definitely a little. Maybe even a lot. But it doesn’t have to mean anything. Not if we don’t want it to.
And we don’t.
Simple as that.
Simple. As. That.
After Carter says goodbye to Miles and Anna, I walk him to the front door. It feels like the least I can do considering what he’s agreed to do for me.
“Are you excited for your trip?” he asks as he shrugs into his jacket.
In the dim light of Miles and Anna’s entryway, his eyes look more gray than blue, and I find myself wondering what colors I would mix to get that exact shade.
I won’t painthimfor his Sarah Stone original, but that doesn’t mean I won’t paint him at all. It would be fun to see if I could truly capture the intensity of his eyes. I’m not sure painting him would qualify askeeping it simple.At least not when I consider what staring into those eyes seems to do to me.
“I think so,” I say. “Maybe more nervous than excited.”
“Why nervous?” he asks.
I shrug. “Um, I guess just because the Bainbridge is so well-connected with a lot of galleries in the area. It could mean a lot of exposure in front of people who have a lot of influence in the art world. I would love to get a show in New York, so it feels like there’s a lot at stake, you know?”
Carter leans against the wall and folds his arms like he’s in no hurry to leave. “Have you had shows before?”
“Lots. But mostly group things—or solo things at smaller galleries. But I have my first solo show here in Atlanta in March—over in Old Fourth Ward. It’s a pretty big deal too, but New York would obviously be a step up from that.”
He holds my gaze for a long moment. “I think it’s really amazing what you do.”
My chest warms at the compliment. They seem to hit differently when they come from Carter because they feel so sincere. “Did you write down all the ideas the girls gave you about what I should paint for you? I particularly liked the Bluey suggestion.”
