Chapter 8 – A Stroke of Genius
Zoe’s nerves threatened to drive her mad. She didn’t understand why she was so anxious about this, but she couldn’t seem to calm herself. She’d called Noah Friday afternoon, had a short conversation with him about her availability, and they’d agreed to meet Wednesday nights and Saturday afternoons, when he’d finished his work at the ranch.
He’d sounded enthusiastic, and she’d had the same inclination, but now that Saturday was here, she wanted to run for the hills. What if she wasn’t as good as she thought and turned this project into a nightmare for him? And what if it so happened that he wasn’t as good as her intuition told her? Either scenario would be a complete disaster.
And what was worse, she had been excited at the idea of seeing him not one but three times a week. Zoe couldn’t rationalize that at all, and it bothered her immensely. Sure, he was beyond handsome, and he had an easygoing manner when he didn’t look like he was brooding. In fact, she had the feeling there was potential for a great friendship. Unfortunately, her body craved something more every time she gazed at him or smelled him. His scent did things to her that even the most searing of gazes from a potential lover couldn’t manage.
She worried she would be too familiar with him, flirt too much, and give him the wrong idea. Zoe didn’t know how to backtrack once she started. On the rare occasion she went out with the intention of satisfying her sexual urges, she pinpointed a target and went for it. Even more rarely, if she felt like turning back halfway through the process because her intended lover wasn’t as attractive as she’d thought from a distance—or because his personality turned her off—she had never been able to graciously back down. It had either turned into an argument that ended in an ugly scene or she’d given in and taken the opportunity to scratch her itch, deciding that at least the guy wasn’t vile.
She didn’t want either to happen with Noah, and that meant controlling her instinctive reaction to him. Zoe worried that, in working so hard at that, she would fail to have the effect on him and his work that would impact the project in a positive way. While she couldn’t let herself get drawn in by the man, she also refused to hurt him in any way, and that meant she couldn’t send any signals that might indicate interest beyond a shared desire to create something special and perhaps a close friendship.
She’d called Tracy earlier today, telling her friend she was going to be helping a student with such an important project, explaining the circumstances but leaving out just how attractive Noah was. Tracy had asked questions, trying to pry more information out of her, but Zoe stuck to the facts when she detailed what she knew of the man. She just wanted her friend’s blessing that she hadn’t been overconfident in giving a nod of encouragement. She didn’t want to hear Tracy tell her how ridiculous it would be not to pursue something greater, if there was mutual attraction.
Zoe didn’t even know if there was a mutual attraction between them. She tended to be blind to interest men showed in her because she didn’t have aspirations of seeking companionship in a man. Noah Thomas had a life here in Five Forks, and as far as she could tell, he’d always been here. He was rooted, and she wasn’t. She was a city girl at heart, even if she needed the solace and quiet the small town brought to her life.
She’d come here with no expectations, but what she’d found was a town that didn’t really have expectations of her. And that was more soothing than she could have hoped. With Noah, it was different. He’d come to her because he did expect her to be a good teacher and to guide him through this process. She didn’t want to fail him.
But she didn’t want to fail herself, either.
The sound of boots clipping on the floor had her heart racing, and Noah stepped into her line of sight, beaming. He had to have showered right before coming because, as he drew near, Zoe could see that his hair was still damp, and beneath the cologne was an underlying aroma of soap, like fresh linens. She nearly groaned aloud at the electrical spark that flowed through her at the sight and smell, and she shot up out of her chair, trying to turn the energy into something less hazardous to their arrangement.
“Sorry I’m a couple minutes late,” he said by way of greeting. “I’ve got this horse, Pontiac, that doesn’t want to admit she’s not the master.”
Late? Zoe hadn’t noticed, and she glanced at the clock. He was literally three minutes late, which in her book was still early. She smiled. “It’s no problem at all. A couple minutes doesn’t make a big difference in the grand scheme of things. So, Pontiac. You didn’t name her, did you?”
He laughed softly. “No, ma’am. I would have chosen something a little more luxurious, like Cadillac or maybe Porsche. Then again, with the way you have to coax her back into her stall or to get up to the gait you want, she acts more like an old Skylark.”
He had a sense of humor, even if it was a bit quirky and dry, and Zoe laughed with him. “I’m sure you’ve got it under control.” She pointed to the two easels holding large canvases she’d set up next to each other. She’d put a clip on Noah’s so he could put the photo he wanted to reference there. “Are you ready to start?”
“I don’t mind getting my hands dirty. I’m ready for anything.” His grin was more of a smirk, and Zoe’s heart, which had just calmed, started racing again. Was he flirting with her, or was that her overactive imagination telling her that so she’d go ahead and throw herself at him?
“One thing about painting. You can’t avoid a bit of a mess. Here,” she said, tossing him a smock and donning one of her own as she tried to distract herself and keep her gaze averted. “At least we can minimize the impact of that mess on our clothes.”
His brows shot up to his hairline. “Are you painting, too?”
“I’m a teacher, Noah, but I’m an artist first. And if I can do something about that passion and guide you along at the same time, I’m going to take advantage of that opportunity.” She wheeled her supplies from behind the desk and pointed to another cart just to his right. “That one is yours. Now, on a portrait you can use whatever medium you want, but I always suggest trying oils first. They give more of a realistic look and feel to skin tone and eyes.”
“Makes sense to me,” he said, looking over the cart as he posted the picture up on the easel. “I guess the real question is, where do I start? With the fruit, it was just a bunch of shapes and lines. But that’s not what I see when I look at my father’s face.”
“Then we should change your perspective.” She grabbed his shoulders and turned him to face her directly, wishing instantly she hadn’t. Touching him made her fingers hot, and the intensity of his gaze flustered her. She cleared her throat and forced herself to settle down. “Faces are all angles and planes, with a few bends or even circles and ovals thrown in. I want you to look at my face and tell me when you can see the lines and angles that make me who I am.”
Noah took a step closer, and Zoe found it hard to breathe with him only a couple feet away. He stared down at her, concentrating, but his eyes kept moving back to hers and capturing them. With each time they locked gazes, she felt herself grow warmer and closer to the melting point.
But then she saw the light in his eyes when he’d managed to dissect her, and that brought her back to reality, thrilled that she’d found a way to simplify the task for him. “Did you know that your face is perfectly symmetrical?” he asked softly. “Is that normal?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s normal, but some people are that lucky. Yours is, too, you know.” She didn’t tell him that he’d basically told her she was beautiful. Studies showed that the most attractive people did, in fact, have more symmetry to their features. “Now, when you study your father’s face, I want you to do the same thing. Find the shapes and angles and everything. That’s the base for your drawing. And once you have a base, it’s easy to fill in the details that bring those shapes into a seamless image that smooths into the face of the person you’re painting.”
She let him gaze at the picture for a m
oment, and then she added, “Everyone’s different, and I don’t usually tell people to trace lines first with a pencil when it comes to landscape or still life. But when you’re working with geometry as the element on which everything else is based, I tend to prefer penciling in the shapes first and then creating the image over it.”
She saw him consider her advice and nod. “You really are amazing, aren’t you?” he asked with a smile. “I was standing here, wondering if that’s what I was supposed to do, and it’s like you know art and even the person you’re working with well enough to read my mind.”
Zoe stared at him in awe. Did he really mean what he was saying, or was he just trying to get on her good side because he was afraid she’d back out of their agreement? “It’s called intuition. I read people well, and that’s part of what gives me an edge as an artist.”
“I guess that makes sense. I read horses better than people, but I can be an okay judge of character when it’s necessary.” He shuffled through the box of pencils, markers, and crayons until he found what he was looking for, and then he pulled up a stool. “If I’m going to be here a while, it would be nice to take a load off.”
“I bet! You’re on your feet all day, aren’t you?” She hadn’t thought of just how physical his work could be, though she should have since she found herself admiring the results from head to toe so often. “Definitely take a seat and take your time. You’ll start with the pencil sketch, and then you can start with base colors so you know the extent of your profile. Then, you can determine what you want the background to be. I’m going to start something I’ve been thinking about, but I’m right here, and don’t worry about interrupting me if you need something.”
He nodded, already focused on the blank canvas. The pencil was poised in his hand, hovering just an inch from the canvas, and Zoe held her breath for just an instant until he finally touched the graphite to the page and started working. Satisfied that he wasn’t going to freak out or anything at the last minute, she smiled to herself and settled onto her own stool a few feet away. She didn’t want to look over his shoulder the whole time. Every artist needed space. And she also wanted just the right angle for her own work. She intended to immortalize Noah Thomas in her own portrait.
Chapter 9 – The Element of Surprise
“I tried calling you yesterday afternoon four times before you called me back,” Arlene scolded her son. “And I know you weren’t out with those horses because it was dead middle of the day with the sun high in the sky. You would have burnt to the ground in a pile of ashes so we wouldn’t even have needed to cremate your remains.”
“Oh, that’s a lovely image, Mama. Can we not talk about death and funerals when we’re on the way to see a bunch of people who just got out of church? I don’t want to feel the need to confess my sins right now.” Noah laughed, but sometimes his mother was morbid.
“Well, could you at least tell me why you didn’t answer?” she asked, sounding pitiful.
No, he really couldn’t. “I was running some errands and I left my phone in the car,” he told her. It was close enough to the truth. He hadn’t taken his phone into the studio with him, mostly because he didn’t want to risk his mother calling. He’d have felt guilty if he ignored her and distracted if he answered. So, he’d made it easy on himself by leaving the phone in the truck.
“That was careless, son, but I’ll forgive you. Just don’t leave your mama hanging for so long, okay? I thought you might have gotten trampled by one of those stubborn mares you spend too much time with. You should be around people more, Noah, around women.”
Suddenly, Noah had a very bad feeling about this lunch he was attending. It wouldn’t be the first time his mother had conspired with someone else to try to set him up. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at the older woman, who sat in the passenger seat of her own Honda Accord with her hands folded primly in her lap on top of her purse with a content expression on her face as she gazed out the window. There was nothing new under the sun to see in this town, so she must have been smiling about some thought she had. That made him even more nervous.
“Mama, are the Crosbys having other guests to lunch besides us?” he asked suspiciously.
“Oh, well, they invited a couple of others. I don’t know if everyone can make it or not, though.” But the glint in her eyes—eyes the same color as Noah’s but a shade lighter—told him she knew exactly who would be there and gave credence to his suspicion.
“Mama, stop trying to set me up! I told you, I’m happy all by myself. The young ladies you’ve introduced me to are nice girls, and I don’t like feeling obligated to treat them like I’m interested. I’m just going to disappoint them, you know. I don’t want a relationship,” he told her adamantly for what had to be the sixth or seventh time this year alone.
She frowned and turned pleading eyes on him. Noah hated that look. It was the look of disappointment that ate at him and made him feel guilty. “Please, Noah. You may feel that way now, but when you meet the right girl, you’re going to change your mind. It’s unnatural to not want to get married and have a family. Even that gay couple, Quincy and Evan, are getting married and adopting a child. All I want is for you to have someone around when I’m gone, someone to love. And I’d like to have grandkids. You know, they say people with grandchildren live longer.”
Noah clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to dash all hope for his mother, but Arlene Thomas was a dreamer. She didn’t consider the consequences of falling in love, even though she suffered from them. “I’m not ready for a wife and kids anyway, Mama. Even if I was interested, I wouldn’t want to take on that responsibility yet. I’ve got too much on my plate already. I’ve got the ranch and the dogs, and I enjoy taking care of you, Mama. If I settled down with a woman, I would have a lot less time for you.” He hoped that appealed to her senses.
She huffed and shrugged. “I can’t say that thought makes me happy, but it’s the way things work. And I’m not saying you have to ring the church bells tomorrow, sweetheart. I’m only asking you to really open your eyes and give a girl a chance, okay?”
Noah groaned. “I’ll be nice, Mama.” As they turned onto the Crosbys’ street, he saw several cars parked in front of their family friends’ house. “How many girls are going to be here?”
“Oh, just two, sweetheart. Dr. Crosby and his brother, York, are visiting with his wife.” She brushed it off, like entertaining the company of two girls who probably had some fantastic idea of who he was would be easy. Noah knew better. And having two women gunning for attention meant competition, jealousy, and other irritating habits. All Noah wanted to do was escape and go to the studio, where it was quiet and he could make more progress on his portrait.
Instead, he assisted his mother out of the car and escorted her to the door, where Dr. Alan Crosby admitted them into the house with a handshake for Noah and a hug and kiss for Arlene. Noah had been suspicious for a while now that his mother and Dr. Crosby, who had been a widower for the last seven years, were interested in each other and just not ready to admit it yet.
“Thank you so much for having us today, Doctor,” Arlene gushed as she hustled to keep up with Crosby’s long stride. His son, Michael, and Michael’s little girl, Abby, were already seated at the table but got up to greet them. Abby was smitten with Noah’s mother, and Michael for some reason looked up to Noah.
He looked around for the other guests, nodding to York and his wife, whose name Noah couldn’t remember. But he didn’t see the girls his mother had mentioned and almost felt relieved, thinking that they’d cancelled. But then he heard chattering coming from the kitchen, and two women rounded the corner carrying platters of food. Noah just stared in disbelief.
Erika Wells had been the girl in high school that everyone talked about. She was easy, and while she was still pretty, Noah had no interest after the number of guys she’d slept with. He couldn’t believe his mother bought into her nice-girl act. But it was the other woman who stunned him into silence, and
when she looked up and locked eyes with him, she froze, her smile fading and her eyes wide.
“Hello, Noah,” Zoe said, recovering enough to put the plate down and walk over to shake his hand. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Same here,” he said, forcing a smile.
“You two know each other?” Erika asked, sidling up beside Zoe. She looked surprised and a little concerned.
Trying to stop a cat fight before Erika started one, Noah reached out to shake her hand as well, though he barely took his eyes off Zoe. “I’m taking one of Zoe’s art classes with my mother,” he said by way of explanation. And really, that was all, except for his side project. He couldn’t exactly talk about that with his mother hovering over him with a smile of anticipation.
“Oh, me too!” Erika gushed. “Dr. Crosby and I are taking the sketching class. I didn’t know you and Arlene were interested in art. Oh my god!”
High school had ended eight years ago, and the woman still talked like a cheerleader in a pep rally. And she didn’t dress much better, with her chest ready to spill out of the tight blouse and her skirt only slightly more modest and coming to mid-thigh.
Zoe cleared her throat, catching his attention. “Actually, Arlene tells me she used to be quite the artist, and even though we’ve only had one class, I see a lot of potential in her.”
Noah’s mother laughed and blushed. “Oh, you’re so sweet. I’m rusty and have a long way to go to find the artist inside me.”
Erika beamed and rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you’re doing amazing work, Mrs. Thomas.” She squinted at Noah and touched his arm. He fought not to jerk away, his eyes darting to Zoe’s reaction. She looked a bit disgusted by Erika, and for some reason that made Noah very happy. “Now, how much of a mess did you make, Noah? Let me guess. You tried to finger paint and dip some girl’s hair in the paint jar.”
Noah’s jaw tightened in irritation, and he fought the urge to tell her that she was the one who had never grown up. He started to say something that was slightly less scathing but would probably still be inappropriate considering the company he was in. But as he opened his mouth, the words came from Zoe instead. “To be honest, Noah’s probably the most promising student I have right now. He has a ton of untapped talent that I intend to help him fully explore over the next few months to see what he’s actually capable of.”
More Than Words (Wyoming Kisses 1) Page 4
