“Doesn’t sound good.”
“Trying to learn about art so I can put it up on the textured walls of a dark little cave.” He lifted his head and looked over at her hopefully. “You here to save me?”
She pursed her lips together, trying to seem annoyed, but he looked kind of cute when he was flustered. He was always so confident and in control, but Grace could appreciate his grumpy, floundering, vulnerable side.
“Let me see what you’re working with.”
Raf opened a file on his computer, and a gallery of pictures of some of Christian’s paintings appeared on the screen. The first one he clicked on was a self-portrait of Picasso.
“Christian owns all of these?”
Rafael’s mouth quirked up to the side. “I knew it.”
“What?”
“I knew you’d be impressed. I knew you couldn’t resist having access to history like this. Don’t deny it.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m impressed. You caught me.”
“And you’re dying to help me out?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Raf clicked the mouse, and another painting lit up on his laptop screen. “Christian says this is by Maruja Mallo. Ever heard of her?”
Grace smiled. “I’ve heard of her.”
“And she was a…cubist?”
“She was a surrealist. This is so vibrant, isn’t it?” She was staring at the wild colors, completely transfixed.
When she remembered Rafael was still there and glanced over, he was grinning at her like a kid who knew he was about to get his way after throwing a tantrum. He knew exactly what he was doing—making the catch, reeling her in—and Grace knew it, too.
Besides the mention of Picasso, Grace had been unaware of what else Christian’s collection had to offer. But a Mallo? Grace clicked the mouse and saw the next photograph. A new pallet of colors spilled across the screen. It was a piece by Maria Blanchard. The opportunity to see these paintings in person, to get to study them up close for herself without anyone else there, to bask in their presence…Rafael was right. It would be a dream come true for her.
Perhaps Grace had judged Christian too quickly for his obsession with Picasso. There was more to his collection than she’d ever anticipated. Maybe she still wouldn’t have any clue what to do with it, and maybe she was still just an amateur who’d be playing at curator despite a complete lack of experience, but Rafael was spiraling, and he was only asking for her ideas and input. It wasn’t like she’d committed to anything more than that.
“I think I’d like to see the venue,” she announced with a small nod, trying to infuse her voice with a certainty she didn’t quite feel.
Rafael jerked his head up; his eyes went wide. “Seriously? That would be amazing, Graciela. Thank you.”
She hesitated, surprised again by his enthusiasm for her help. “I’m still not making any promises. I might take one look at the place and have nothing to offer.”
“I completely understand. No pressure.” He was excited, though. She could see it in his eyes. He touched her hand, and Grace’s face went blank from shock. The air almost crackled with energy all around them.
Rafael seemed to remember himself, and he turned back to the computer, fingertips hovering over the keys instead of against her skin.
Ding!
Grace startled as Rafael’s ridiculously high-volume phone chime echoed through the room. “That’s quite a notification,” she commented when her heart rate slowed again.
“Don’t want to miss any important business.” He glanced at the screen and gave it a few quick taps before releasing a heavy sigh.
“Everything okay?”
“It’s nothing,” Raf said. “Just an email from my father.”
“He emails you?”
