Colt pulled back before she was ready to let him go. His thumb feathered across the flushed skin at her cheek.
“You have my number.” His spellbinding gaze searched hers a moment longer before he stepped back and let his hand fall from her face.
Alex walked him to the door. She undid the safety latch and pulled it open. Colt stopped with one foot in the hall.
“Sleep well, Alexandria.”
“You, too, Coulter.”
A second later, he was gone.
CHAPTER TEN
Two weeks later . . .
“Here you are, Mrs. Davis.” Alex handed over the framed canvas wrapped in butcher paper to her newest customer. “I hope it brings you many years of enjoyment.”
Miriam Davis smiled with confidence and a spine so straight she appeared regal. “Oh, I have no doubt that it will. In fact, I’ve already chosen the perfect place for it on one of my sitting room walls.”
The painting was Alex’s newest creation. A custom job she’d done on request. It was a watercolor, its hues light and airy.
She’d created it with whispered strokes from every pastel on the pallet. A vintage, ornate frame the color of gold contrasted perfectly with the many colors.
“Here, Tom.” Mrs. Davis passed the painting to heryounger—and stronger—driver. “This will be much safer in your hands than mine.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The man named Tom dipped his chin. “I’ll put it in the trunk for safe keeping.”
Mrs. Davis sent her trusted employee a smile. “Thank you, Tom.” To Alex, she asked, “Is there anything else you need from me, my dear?”
“I believe that’s it. Your account is squared away, so everything’s taken care of from my end. Though, I do hope you’ll consider returning to my gallery when it comes time for your next purchase.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I will.”
“Thanks again, Mrs. Davis. It’s been a pleasure.” She offered the wealthy woman her hand.
“The pleasure has been all mine. Have a wonderful afternoon, Alexandria.”
“You, too.” Alex stood a few feet away, watching as Tom and Mrs. Davis turned to leave.
On their way out, Mrs. Davis paused near a small accent table positioned by the door. “What a beautiful arrangement,” she commented on the large bouquet of flowers centered there.
Her gut tightened as she kept her smile steady. “It was a gift.”
“Casablanca lilies, pear blossoms, and peonies?” The woman’s thin brows arched with appreciation. “That’s quite a gift.”
“They were from . . . a friend,” she ultimately lied.
Gordan Crawford wasnother friend. But despite her efforts to avoid him like the plague, he’d been relentless in his pursuit to professionally woo her.
The arrangement by the door was the latest of threeshe’d received. Each one bigger and more elaborate than the delivery that had come before it.
“Flowers like these?” Mrs. Davis eyed the arrangement before looking back at Alex. “Seems like someone who wants to be a whole lot more than just friends.”
With a slight glimmer in the well-meaning woman’s blue gaze, she dipped her narrow chin before walking out the door. Alex watched through the gallery windows as Tom carefully placed the painting in the trunk before opening the back passenger door for Mrs. Davis.
As soon as the car drove away, she returned to the table and carefully picked up the heavy vase. Her hands held the cool glass steady as she marched straight through the gallery to the back door.
Transferring the vase into the crook of one of her arms, she used the other to pull the knob before stepping outside. Alex let the door shut behind her as she covered the few feet between her and the shared dumpster. When she reached it, she unceremoniously let the arrangement fall inside with the rest of the trash.
