Min
Ouch. How long is that going to take you to rectify?
Sam
All night. I need them for Wednesday.
Min
I hope you’ll manage to get at least a cat nap in.
Sam
That’s the hope.
My eyes arewide an hour later. “Sam! I didn’t think you’d pick up a video request!”
“I’m full of surprises.” He smirks at me. “Actually, we’re on the same wavelength. I was about this close”—he holds up his hand with his thumb and pointer finger together—“to calling you. It was going to be my reward for making it to the end of stage one.”
I cock my head to the side. “Stage one?”
“Ta-da.” Sam hold up his boots. “What do you think?”
“They’re, uh, nice and dull.”
“That’s exactly what I was going for.”
“What comes next?”
Placing the boots down, he holds up a tin of beeswax and polish. “Building up the base layers. What have you been up to?”
“Sketching?”
“Care to share?”
“As long as you don’t judge me.” I lower my voice.
“This is a judgement-free zone,” he insists.
Taking a breath, I flip the camera around and focus it on my sketch pad.
I hear a low whistle. He’s studying it intently. “Is that me? Because if it is, he’s way better looking than I am in person.”
“Thanks.” I cough.
“I mean it. He’s brilliant.”
I flip the camera back to my face. “I’m rusty when it comes to human subjects.”
“If you need a male model, I’m willing to sit for a portrait anytime.”
My body grows warm at the thought of Sam sitting for me shirtless in his breeches and riding boots, posing next to a horse, like Fabio or one of the men on a nineties romancebook cover. I’m adding another image to my mental art gallery of Sam. At this rate, I’ll have to build another museum wing.
I clear my throat. “If you do that, you may come out looking like a Dr. Seuss character.”
“Sam I am. I am Sam,” he says, his voice jumping an octave. “I do not care for green eggs and ham.”
“That’s your new nickname in my phone, Sam I Am.” I giggle.
