Selling Grace: A Light Romance Novel (Art of Grace Book 1)

by Samantha Westlake

  "Really? I didn't know anything about that," Carter said, lying through his teeth. He risked a glance sidelong over at Onyx, and saw the other man smiling ever so slightly, showing just the smallest glint of his white teeth against his light brown skin.

  "And then, at the eleventh hour, the notoriously flighty and unpredictable millionaire Robert Albrecht decides to commit to a purchase, saving her from all those money woes that were about to sweep Rebecca away."

  "Sometimes, people get lucky."

  "Sometimes," Onyx agreed, but he didn't sound convinced in the slightest.

  The two men stood there for another minute, both of them looking at the giant black stone cock on the pallet. Distantly, from outside the warehouse, Carter heard the rumble of the forklift's engine turning over.

  "You've invited her over to the studio a couple times," Carter said after another minute of silence.

  He glanced sideways at Onyx to see if these words provoked a reaction, but if they did, the artist did a good job of hiding them. "She's come over and viewed some of my pieces."

  "I bet." Normally, Carter considered himself pretty adept at reading others, but Onyx proved more challenging than most; the man's face might as well have been carved from the same stone that he used to create his sculptures. A little voice told him that it might be best to hold his tongue here, but he plunged on regardless. "You know, she spent last night with me."

  "The whole night?"

  "Well, no, not the whole night," he answered, stung a little that Onyx managed to ask the one question capable of deflating his story somewhat. "But the time we did spend together was quite... intimate."

  That last word hung in the air between the two men for a minute, both of them feeling it out and getting a sense for it.

  "The game's not won yet," Onyx finally said. "This is just the first quarter. She might come to her senses at some point."

  "Or she already has," Carter countered, but he didn't exactly like the thought of what challenges might lay ahead. For someone like Onyx, with a legitimate reason to keep on showing up at the gallery, and his obvious, almost overwhelming sex appeal... the man literally carved dicks for a living, by god!

  Another minute passed, both of the men carefully not saying anything. Carter caught the rumble of the garage door to Onyx's studio lifting up, as the forklift finally headed in to come and collect the pallet. From here, Carter knew, it would be loaded up into the back of an enclosed truck, and then the forklift itself would be rolled up onto the back of another truck. Both trucks would head over to Albrecht's mansion, where the process would run in reverse. Finally, once Albrecht had decided where he wanted to proudly display his newest art acquisition, the sculpture would carefully be removed from the pallet so that it could settle into its new, more permanent home.

  "I'm fronting her the money for the commission on this sale," Carter said, as they moved aside to give the forklift operator room to maneuver his vehicle forward. "She's very appreciative."

  Was that a wince that he saw for an instant on Onyx's face? "Mixing money and emotion is never a good idea," he replied, but he didn't sound quite relaxed and confident as before.

  Carter just shrugged, feeling like he'd scored a point.

  Of course, he told himself, this whole thing is ridiculous. There was no need for the two of them, both professionals, both of them adults, to be fighting over a young woman like a couple of boys tussling in mud on the playground.

  The forklift headed forward, but then paused and backed up again, the driver of the machine trying to determine the best way to approach with the prongs to slide them into the corresponding holes on the pallet. Onyx cleared his throat, coughing as the machine stirred up some rock dust from the cement floor.

  "So, she's gotten things settled with that ex-husband of hers, then?" he asked.

  "Doing it today. I dropped off her check, and she said she'd be heading over to finalize matters with him during her lunch break." Carter thought about adding that he'd also brought her lunch, the leftovers from their date the night before, but decided that he didn't need to bother tightening that particular screw any further.

  "Good." Onyx paused, looking down at one hand and watching his fingers as they curled into a fist, and then relaxed. "I've heard of the guy."

  This surprised Carter, and he turned and looked at Onyx with his eyebrows raised. "Really? Barry? How do you know him?"

  Onyx shrugged, frowning a little. "He's a dentist. I needed a dentist."

  "What?" A wild thought popped into Carter's head. "Wait, this wasn't recent, was it? You didn't go to try and scope out the enemy or something-"

  The artist turned and raised a single eyebrow. Carter snapped his mouth shut mid-sentence, feeling like a bit of an idiot for jumping to the assumption.

  "It was before I met Rebecca," Onyx went on after a minute. The forklift's prongs were now under the pallet, and the machine groaned as it began lifting the wooden square and its heavy, delicate weight up off of the ground. "I needed some dental work. I saw an advertisement for his practice, gave it a try."

  "And?"

  Onyx winced, lifting one hand and pressing it briefly against his jaw. "Not the dentist that I'd recommend."

  It might be petty, but this fact made Carter grin with a hint of savagery. "Good. He sounded like an ass."

  "Yeah."

  The two men lapsed once again into silence. They both followed after the forklift as, its payload now raised a foot or so off the ground, it turned around and trundled back towards the garage door, out to the waiting trucks. Laden down with its load, the machine's engine strained to keep up a decent head of speed, and the two men were easily able to keep pace as they walked along.

  It really was ridiculous for the two of them to be fighting like this, Carter reiterated to himself. After all, they'd worked together, and the relationship benefited both of them - Carter would recommend one of Onyx's pieces if it seemed suitable for one of the properties he needed to move, and Onyx mentioned Carter if he talked to any buyers who needed a real estate agent. They'd never exactly been close, barely more than professional acquaintances, but they'd built a comfortable relationship, in their own way.

  And now, with Becca suddenly inserting herself in their equation, the whole thing had slid sideways. They were squabbling with each other, as if Becca was a prize up for grabs. After all, he reminded himself, the choice was ultimately in her hands. They could both be charming, and in the end, Becca would make whatever choice she decided was best.

  But she's damn well going to pick me, he growled privately to himself, inside his own head.

  "Well, that's that," Carter said as they stood outside in the sunlight, watching as the forklift released the statue and pallet carefully inside the covered truck. "I'm riding along, helping Albrecht make sure that the piece looks good at his mansion."

  "Front and center," Onyx echoed back Carter's earlier words, not even bothering to disguise his smirk this time. "Hope that favor was worth it."

  "Just one of my many favors that others owe me," Carter responded, stung by this dig. "And you're one of those people, if my memory serves me correctly. Maybe, someday, I'll call in the one that you owe me."

  Onyx didn't respond to that one, and although the darker man's face remained expressionless, Carter still chalked this up as another point for himself. Wanting to duck out while still ahead, he headed towards his car.

  Behind him, Onyx stood implacably, watching the real estate agent leave. Normally, he wasn't a competitive fellow, but something about Carter just rubbed him the wrong way. The real estate agent was cocky, convinced that he was God's gift to women, that he could easily charm Becca.

  Not that Onyx didn't consider his own abilities with the ladies. Still, something about Becca made him detest the idea of her settling down with Carter. Of course, Onyx wasn't about to do anything stupid, but Becca Grace... He remembered how she'd gasped at the sight of his pieces, but even as her eyes went wide, reached out to touch the st
one. She had a spark of bright curiosity about her, one that had somehow survived from childhood into adulthood so far. She deserved to be nurtured and loved, not breezily used.

  Something about Carter just seemed too breezy, too casual.

  After a moment more of watching the trucks drive away, Onyx headed back into his studio. He could always swing by the Halesford Gallery again at some point, he considered to himself. Last time, he'd nearly convinced Becca to come out and pose for him, let him use her as a model for his next set of pieces.

  Maybe he should go offer her that invitation again. After all, the choice was ultimately hers - the breezy, overly casual real estate agent, or a mysterious and supremely gifted artist, one who worked with his hands every single day?

  In the end, Onyx told himself, she's going to end up picking me.

  Up above the two men, high in the sky, the sun shone down brightly on Davis, bathing the city in its warmth and energy. The day was a perfect one, not a cloud in the sky - full of promise and opportunity.

  ***

  The End - for now...

  Keep reading to see what's next for Becca and her friends in the Art of Grace Series, Book 2:

  Sculpting Grace

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  Check out the first two chapters of Becca's next adventure!

  SCULPTING GRACE

  Read on now!

  Chapter One

  *

  Wandering down the little streets, occasionally hearing the click of a bicycle as it sped past in the bike lane beside her, April Henderson couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so happy, so content. This little town of Davis had turned out to be an even better cute little vacation spot than she'd imagined when she signed up for the two-day trip!

  So many adorable little shops, she noted approvingly to herself as she walked down the sidewalk, her legs still strong and spry despite her sixty-eight years of age. None of these big chain restaurants that seemed to be taking over everywhere as of late. Each of these little stores looked unique, and she could just imagine the proprietors standing behind their counters, waiting to sell their goods to a more wholesome kind of people.

  Briefly, April wondered if there was a senior center here. Not that she'd seriously consider moving from her native Arizona, especially not at this point, with her granddaughter at such a young and impressionable age, and her daughter and son-in-law still stressed. This was, after all, their first child, and they didn't have the same comfort and experience that she possessed. She had to be there for them.

  Still, that didn't mean that she was forbidden from giving herself a little present, a weekend away in this adorably cute little California town that her friend Patrice had raved about so much. She'd rolled her eyes before, but now she understood why Patrice couldn't stop talking about "that little gem of a town."

  The heat was quite something, though, April noted a minute later. She did her best to keep out of the direct afternoon sun as she walked along the downtown sidewalks, but the whole town was sweltering. She felt like she was gazing into her open oven, about to pull a loaf of banana bread out from inside.

  Hopefully, she thought to herself, the owners of these adorable little shops had heard of air conditioning.

  A few steps ahead, a sandwich-board sign propped up on the sidewalk caught her attention. "Halesford Gallery - Fine Local Art, World Renowned," April read off, squinting to make out the words without her reading glasses.

  Yes, that sounded like a fine little place - and after all, she still needed a souvenir to bring back. Something she could flaunt in front of Patrice and the other girls at the senior center.

  Making up her mind, April took a sharp turn, heading into the gallery.

  A couple stairs led up to the interior, but April managed these with the help of the wrought-iron railing. Thankfully, a blast of cool, much more comfortable air swept out over her face as she opened the door, and she sighed with relief as she stepped inside.

  Inside, April blinked for a moment, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the relative dimness after coming in from the bright sun outside. As her perception returned, she saw a large desk sitting in front of her, with two people behind it.

  "Hello there!" called out a bright female voice. It was coming from a young woman sitting behind the desk, who now rose up to her feet to greet April. "Welcome to the Halesford Gallery!"

  "Thank you, dear," April replied, blinking a couple times as she turned her attention to the speaker. The young woman (in her early thirties, April guessed, but she considered anyone who hadn't been through menopause to be "young") smiled, brushing back a few strands of errant brown hair. She leaned forward and gestured around at the interior.

  "There are four rooms, and they all have a selection of art from local artists on display," the young woman continued. "If you have questions about any of the pieces, please don't hesitate to come ask me - I'm Becca Grace, the gallery's manager. I'm more than happy to answer any of your questions."

  What a nice woman, April thought to herself. Proper respect for her customers, greeting me individually. April carefully didn't consider herself as an "elder", but she still felt like young people should be giving her respect for her age, and this woman seemed properly deferential.

  April transferred her gaze over to the other person behind the counter, and thoughts of respect fled her head. The man behind the counter looked... well, if April was twenty or thirty years younger, she'd be twirling her hair around her finger and beaming at him, trying to spot if he was wearing a wedding ring. He wore a suit perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, with no tie and the collar open at the neck in an attitude of relaxed casualness.

  "Hi," April stammered as she looked at the man, suddenly feeling like she'd traveled back in time, an awkward teenager once again.

  "Hi there," he smiled back at her, showing off perfectly even, gorgeous teeth. "Like Becca said, let her know if you need any help."

  April nodded, dragging her eyes away from the man with an effort. He hadn't introduced himself, she realized. For a moment, she felt a deep pang of envy directed towards Becca - why did this other woman have her youth and beauty still, while April had to deal with new wrinkles every time she looked in the mirror?

  Moving past the front desk of the gallery, she tried to focus instead on the art. Most of it seemed fairly dull; pastoral painting scenes, several large oil paintings of cows, for some reason, jewelry that was either too dull to grab her eye or too expensive for her limited trip budget.

  In the third of the gallery's four rooms, however, she caught sight of a group of small sculptures, shaped and worked from some sort of black stone, that made her do a double take.

  Hesitantly, she edged forward and reached out to pick up one of them, feeling its weight in her hands. Was this some sort of joke? She turned and looked over towards the front desk of the gallery; the four rooms formed a square, so she could see both Becca and her incredibly handsome male companion through the open archway.

  After a second, Becca caught April looking over, and moved out from behind the desk towards the senior citizen. "Ah, you've found some of Onyx's works!" she called out.

  "Onyx?" April echoed. With a start, she realized that she was still holding the little eight-inch or so tall sculpture - by the shaft, no less! She jerked and nearly dropped the damn thing before recovering and placing it quickly back on the little white stand next to its fellows.

  "Yes, he's probably our biggest celebrity at the gallery," Becca continued, moving up to stand beside April and gaze down at the array of little statues. "He does very powerful sculptures, doesn't he? He works to really challenge what draws the eye, what we find attractive and gravitate towards because of millions of years of social cues."

  "Of course, I se
e that," April nodded, still distracted by the sight of the statues. "And, er, all his works are like these?"

  Becca shrugged. "He's working on a new set of pieces featuring the female form, but the real focus is on his skill at working with the stone. He uses family tools that have been passed down from father to son for generations, and comes from a long line of stonecutters."

  For a moment longer, Becca remained proper - but then, when April glanced disbelieving over at her once again, she let a little smile crack across her features.

  "You've got pretty much the same expression I did when I first saw his particular type of artwork," she confessed, shaking her head. "I'm still not sure if I need to put up a sign of some sort, warning mothers with small children not to let them roam free in here, for fear that they might have some mental scarring."

  As Becca let her guard down with this little confession, April had to smile back at her. "They certainly grabbed my attention," she agreed.

  Reaching out again, April picked up one of the pieces, turning it over in her hands - and then nearly dropped it for a second time when she saw the little sticker on the bottom of the piece. "And he charges that much for them?" she gasped, her eyes popping at all the zeroes on the price tag.

  The gallery manager next to her just shrugged. "People buy them at that price, so that's what he asks," she replied. "He's been featured in several national magazines, and you kind of need to ask for that much once you reach a certain level of success."

  Carefully, April set the statue back down with its fellows. Even though she'd have loved to bring one of those back with her, if only to watch Patrice's eyes nearly bulge all the way out of her head at the sight of the thing, it was miles beyond her budget. That little, erotic statue cost almost five times her monthly Social Security check!

  Leaving the little black statues behind, April finished up her circuit around the little art gallery. She didn't spy anything else, however, that really grabbed her attention, certainly not in the same way as those little black stone carvings. A couple of small oil paintings might look nice and pleasant on the walls of her little apartment back home, but they just didn't seem engaging enough for her to deem them worthy to buy.