by Mia Madison
“Well, you certainly live up to the hype. You’re ridiculously talented.”
“Look at me, Harmony.”
With a sigh, I turned to face him. He didn’t smile or comment about my blush. Instead, he raised a palm to lightly caress my cheek for a moment before looking back to the portrait. It was quick, but I saw a flash of disappointment spread across his face before it disappeared.
“I did my best, though I think it pales in comparison.” His eyes locked on mine once more, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he said, “I don’t believe I’ve ever tried to capture anything as beautiful as you before.”
Do not swoon. Just don’t do it. You know better, Harmony! Take the compliment for what it is and squash the fluttery feeling before it grows.
“T-Thanks,” I stuttered, cursing my dry throat. I stepped back, breaking the physical contact between us as I said, “I should be heading home soon.”
He nodded for a moment before his eyes went wide and he snapped his fingers.
“Just a moment. Wait here for me?”
I nodded and watched as he darted away. A second later, I heard the door that led between his apartment and his studio slam shut. I rushed to grab my coat and pull it on, hoping it would help get rid of the ridiculous urge to stay longer.
Landon appeared a moment later with a blank envelope. I took it and peeked inside, my eyes widening.
“What’s this for?”
“It’s your first week of pay. To be clear, I intend to write you a check on a week-to-week basis after this. I only wanted to pay you for this week in advance in case your situation was dire.”
Was it that obvious? I was torn between being offended by the assumption and blown away by his ability to read me. Realizing that my pride wasn’t going to get me anywhere, I focused on the latter.
“Thank you. Seriously—thank you so much.”
He didn’t know it, but the cash he gave me meant I’d be able to stay in my apartment instead of with my parents. That was worth an entire week of posing if he wanted me to do it.
“It’s no trouble. You’ve helped me more than you know today. I can’t wait to see what else I accomplish with you here.”
With his whispered words and a tender smile, the desire to stay grew so large that I knew I had to get out as soon as possible. Finding a way to express my gratitude would wait until I wasn’t so weirdly emotional.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said firmly, more to convince myself than anything else.
“Of course. I’ll see you out.”
Landon walked me to the elevator and I stepped inside. Mere seconds before the doors closed, Landon put his hand between them and stepped in with me. His hand gripped mine, dragging it up to press a gentle kiss to my knuckles.
“Thank you,” he said with a reverent tone that made my heart race. “Have a wonderful night, my muse.”
With that, he stepped back, staring at me until the doors actually closed. It wasn’t until I reached the ground floor that I was able to pull myself out of my stunned stupor.
I left his building in a daze, dreading going home. I knew it would be a sleepless night thanks to the one thing I didn’t want yet couldn’t avoid—a romantic obsession with Landon Connors.
5
My first day of work was beyond promising. Landon felt a surge of inspiration—starting and finishing the painting of me in what seemed to be record time.
However, by the fifth day of my job as a muse, I was starting to question whether or not I was actually helping. Landon had yet to make any headway on the unfinished projects littered around his studio. With each day that passed, my guilt rose right along with his frustration.
How much longer would I be able to stomach taking money for this? What could I possibly do to help his lack of inspiration? My presence obviously wasn’t enough.
“Fuck,” he hissed, shoving his rolling chair away from the table he was sitting at and burying his fingers in his dark hair.
I’d only known him for a few days, but I still knew it was uncharacteristic of him to curse. He was just so… proper. After working up the nerve to ask him about it on my third day, I learned that he didn’t have a problem with cursing. In regards to him specifically, all he said was, ‘There’s a time and a place for everything.’
It made me spend the entire day and night wondering under what circumstances Landon might allow his pristine language to get a little dirty. During a bout of frustration was a lot less thrilling than what I had imagined.
“This isn’t working,” he said miserably, his tone making my heart ache.
I was a little hesitant to ask, but I knew I needed to do something to both absolve my guilt and to continue earning a paycheck.
“Is there anything I can do?”
Landon lifted his head and looked at me with alarm, almost like he had forgotten I was even there. I fought hard to avoid fidgeting while he stared at me with a blank expression.
The moment didn’t last long. He seemed to snap back into his right mind, rising from the chair and pushing it over to a random easel.
“Sit here.”
“Oh, God. You’re not painting me again, are you?”
Landon let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head as he took a seat at an easel.
“No, but thank you for making it clear just how little you enjoyed that.”
“It’s not that I hated it or anything. I just would like some warning before I have to stay still for the better part of the day.”
“Fair enough. For today, I only want your company.”
“You have my company every day.”
“True, but we don’t interact very often,” he noted as he prepared a variety of paints and checked his supply of brushes. When he was finally ready and raised a brush to the canvas, he commanded, “Talk to me while I work.”
“Talk about what?”
“It really doesn’t matter. I’d be happy to make conversation about anything you desire.”
The complete blank my mind drew was hilarious in a way. I could babble endlessly to my parents or my friends given the chance, but my tongue refused to make words for Landon. My brain refused to bow under the pressure to make conversation.
“I… I don’t know what to say,” I admitted with a helpless shrug. “I suck under pressure.”
“There’s no pressure,” he replied with a sigh.
Landon straightened his spine and stared dead ahead. I could practically feel him willing his hand to paint—willing the picture to unfold itself onto the canvas.
And here I sat, completely useless. A sack of dead fucking weight.
“How about I choose a topic and we just go from there? Would that be easier?”
Perking up at the suggestion, I nodded rapidly and said, “Absolutely. Pick a topic and I’ll start babbling at you.”
Landon chuckled warmly. He dipped his brush into a deep red paint and raised it to make a soft stroke as he casually said, “Tell me about your last lover.”
What. The. Fuck.
Landon’s eyes briefly flashed to me as he said, “Your discomfort is palpable.”
“No shit. How about a different topic?”
Landon hummed, shrugging one shoulder as he dipped the brush into the paint once more.
“I like mine just fine. I admit that I’m even more intrigued now that I’ve seen your reaction. Tell me about him. What was his name?”
Nearly every part of me screamed to talk about anything else. However, one small part of my brain—the logical part, I suppose—whispered that giving him some small bits of information would be okay. That I could indulge his curiosity with tidbits and change topics naturally from there.
As a bonus, Landon was actually working on something as we spoke. I couldn’t see it from my angle, but it was progress.
Fuck it. What’s the harm?
“Mark. We met in college and broke up just over a year ago.”
“Was he handsome?”
“Yes, he was handso
me.”
“Is that what drew you to him?”
I shifted uncomfortably in the seat and shrugged even though I knew he wasn’t watching me. Then again, it wouldn’t have surprised me if he was.
“Partially, I guess. He was very… charming.”
“I’ve been called charming,” Landon noted with a hint of a smile. “To be fair, I’ve also been called cold and callus.”
“Those are two words I can’t ever see being associated with you.”
“You haven’t known me very long.” Landon’s eyes left the painting to shoot me a wink before returning to his work. “So he was charming. Was he anything like me?”
“No. At least I don’t think so.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you seem to mean what you say. Mark… Mark seemed that way at first. But it eventually became clear that he was a fraud. A smooth-talker who laid on the platitudes with a fake smile so girls would fall at his feet.”
Landon frowned. “Did you fall at his feet?”
Unfortunately.
“I guess I did, in a way. I did date him for three years.”
I also let him take me for a ride and nearly ruin my relationship with my parents along the way.
It was probably best to leave that part out. I was already giving him way more information than I would have liked.
“What did he do? For work, I mean.”
That was another thing I was hoping to avoid. I knew my promise to be truthful to him would bite me in the ass eventually.
“He’s an artist. Painter, sculptor, photographer—depends on the day.”
Landon froze for a moment before slowly turning to stare at me. I could see the realization as it dawned, long before he said, “You were his muse. That’s why you were so reluctant to come here.”
“Yeah. It doesn’t really bring up pleasant memories for me.”
“I hope you realize how grateful I am that you came. If I had known…” He trailed off for a moment before abruptly shaking his head. “No, I still would have tried to persuade you to come. Though I think I might have been more sympathetic about your apprehension.”
“Thanks, but it’s all good. This gig is a lot better than my last attempt at being a muse,” I said with a tight smile. Before he could think of another question about Mark, I asked, “So, what about you? Tell me about your last lover.”
“There’s nothing substantial to tell.”
“Really? Well, what about your last muse?”
The movement was minute, but I caught it. His hand faltered on the way to the canvas, a small frown forming between his eyebrows. He schooled his expression back to neutral before he turned to look at me.
“What makes you think there was one before you? I tend to find most inspiration in nature, not people.”
“I just assumed—”
“You know what they say about people who assume things, hmm?”
Landon chuckled and shook his head, effectively shutting down the conversation. I felt a little odd about the way we ended it, but I took solace in the fact that his hand continued to move over the painting without so much as a tremor.
6
The next few days flew by in the blink of an eye. I got the electricity turned back on in my apartment when Landon paid me for the first week, and after getting a check for the second week, I was officially caught up on all my bills. I felt like I could breathe again.
We began talking more and as the days went by, more and more pieces went to the ‘finished’ side of the room. Not all of them were fit to be in the show according to Landon, but by the end of my third week, he was in high spirits.
“I haven’t been so productive in years,” he said breathlessly as he looked over the collection of paintings. His gaze lingered on my portrait and he added, “And it’s all thanks to you, love.”
It was hardly the first time he had praised me for my assistance, yet I couldn’t manage to get used to it.
“I didn’t even do anything. This is all you, Landon.”
“You really have no idea how much you’ve helped me, do you? I wish I could explain it, but I think it’s something only an artist could truly understand.”
“I think you’re right. Well… You’re welcome, I guess? I feel like I should be thanking you for the job, though.”
Landon gestured for me to follow and I trailed behind, frowning when we reached the door to his apartment. He’d been ordering delivery for almost all of our lunches thus far, save for the few occasions when he ran next door to grab sandwich materials for me during the days he was too inspired to stop working. I had yet to step foot in his apartment and part of me knew it’d be a big mistake to do so.
So when he opened the door and tried to usher me inside, I stood my ground and asked, “Where are we going?”
He had the decency to look surprised for a moment, like he hadn’t even realized this was out of the ordinary. The moment passed quickly though and he was almost buzzing with excitement once more.
“I’m sorry. This was a bit presumptuous of me. I was going to have a glass of wine in celebration. I would love for you to join me, but I understand if you need to head home.”
My head screamed at me to leave, but all that came out of my mouth was, “Wine sounds fantastic.”
Landon smiled. The sight was so infectious it silenced the loud protest my brain was making as my feet walked into the apartment without hesitation.
“Would you care to stay for dinner?”
No.
“What are you having?”
Fucking hell. Why do I do this to myself?
“Whatever you like. My treat, of course.”
“Then I guess I’m staying.”
This is such a bad idea.
Landon popped open a bottle of red and we each had a glass while going over the menus of local delivery places. After placing the order, we busied ourselves with small talk while having a second glass.
Dinner arrived and we opened another bottle. Landon could clearly hold his alcohol and I was no stranger to it myself, but I still felt pretty warm by the time we finished eating and stepped out on his balcony to look out at the city.
“You’ve got a great view for being in the middle of the building,” I said as I looked up and down the street at all the lights. “My building is right up against another. The view from my best window is directly into the apartment of this creepy guy who likes to hang out in front of the window half-dressed and wink at me.”
“That sounds…. entirely unappealing.”
“It is. Hence why I invested in heavy curtains that remain closed at all times.”
“Good call,” Landon replied with a light chuckle. “I do like this view. It’s one of the reasons why I never moved to a different building.”
“I don’t blame you.”
We lapsed into a comfortable silence while we finished our wine. When we were both dry, Landon took our glasses inside before rejoining me on the balcony.
“May I ask you something?”
I raised my eyebrows in surprise when his voice broke the silence.
“Sure.”
“You said your ex is an artist. Is he any good?”
My mouth opened and closed a few times, unable to form a response to the unexpected question. When he turned to look at me, I forced myself to ask, “Isn’t that subjective?”
“It is. I’m asking for your subjective opinion.”
“I… I guess he’s all right.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
My shoulders slumped and I raised my hands in a helpless gesture.
“What do you want to hear? I’m not exactly an arty girl. I have no idea if it was good or not.”
“You have no opinion? Do you have an opinion on my art?”
“I think your art is beautiful, you know that.”
“So why don’t you have an opinion on his?”
“Fine,” I said with a huff of frustration. “No, he wasn’t any good. H
e tried too hard to be edgy and you could see it in the work. It looked wrong—like he forced it. Because he did. I never cared for any of his art, but I’m sure plenty of people would love it.”
“What makes you think I don’t force it?”
“Would I be here if you did?” He said nothing in response, but I was beginning to recognize where the questions were coming from. “Landon, it’s very clear—even to an untrained eye like mine—that your work is from the heart. I haven’t seen a single thing of yours that appeared forced or pretentious. You have real talent and it shows.”
The giddy excitement had faded during his moment of vulnerability, but something sweet replaced it with my compliments. He faced me and I braced myself for the kiss on the knuckles and the whispered thanks I was beginning to grow accustomed to.
Instead, his hand touched my cheek, lingering there for a moment as he said, “Thank you.”
He slid his fingers behind my neck and stepped close, giving me ample time to react to what was obviously coming next. Yet I was so stunned, I couldn’t move.
“Thank you, love.”
My lips parted to respond and he leaned down at the same time, bringing our mouths together for a searing kiss. I vaguely registered the feeling of his other hand on my lower back, drawing me closer to him as he kissed me.
Without thinking, my hands found his shoulders and clamped down tight while my lips moved with his in a dance that felt more natural to me than any other kiss I’d ever experienced. It was both monumental and effortless.
The way my heart pounded and screamed, ‘This is what a kiss should be like. This is right!’ was what ultimately caused me to let him go and pull away.
Fear was a powerful thing. In this instance, it was more powerful than my desire for him.
“I-I have to go,” I said quickly, ignoring the dazed look on his face as I backed away. “I’ll see you Monday.”
He didn’t respond until I was halfway through his living room.
“Harmony!”
It took a lot of effort to keep moving, but I was in the elevator and smashing the button to close the doors before he could chase after me. As soon as they slid shut, I slumped back against the wall of the cabin and let out a shaky sigh.
