Color My World

by Laura Westbrook

  She tried to settle the tension burning in her chest. It was all right. She just needed to deal with this calmly. Suddenly, she wished she hadn’t moved so far away from Hanna, who had always been so good at money and balancing the books. She could’ve probably helped Cassie face this, as Cassie was better at burying her head in the sand. Which was probably why she’d forgotten about the bill in the first place. When she’d read the agreement, she’d clearly been too excited about her new life to notice the details.

  But she needed to learn to manage without running for help every time, although help would’ve been welcome. Hanna had her own concerns, and Cassie needed to prove that she could be a businesswoman and not just an artist. With a deep breath, Cassie made her way to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. She’d have a warm drink, a hot shower, and then she’d go to bed. She’d feel better in the morning—fresher, more awake and more able to tackle things head-on.

  This was a setback, but it was nothing more than that. She could handle it and overcome. She’d be fine. She just needed to move forward until the past was just a memory. The success she craved was just around the corner. She could almost taste it.

  Chapter Three

  The next week at the market, Cassie was better prepared. She’d been working longer hours at her part-time job in retail, and she was determined to make this week’s market an even better success than the last. She had to. After all, every day she was reminded of the bill she needed to pay. It stared at her from the counter and taunted her with all the devastation that it could wreak on her life if she messed this up. She knew she was probably worrying about it more than it deserved, but she couldn’t help it. It represented her old life, holding her back, and she was determined to conquer it.

  Still, it hung over her head like a dark cloud. She’d been looking forward to the market and the breath of fresh air it could bring, especially if she made a sale. But even just feeling the sun on her skin and no worries for the day was something to look forward to.

  For that day, at least, she’d focus on the future and enjoy the fresh air. And, though she didn’t want to admit it to herself, she was looking forward to seeing Hank again. She didn’t know if he was going to be there today, or if she’d ever see him again, but the thought that he might show up brought a flicker of excitement she desperately needed, despite the pinch of worry that she might have to keep lying, for a little while longer.

  She realized she knew very little about him. She didn’t even know his last name. She knew he lived around here, and that he was passionate about art. She knew he dressed impeccably and probably came from money, or had been very successful in a short amount of time, as he couldn’t be that much older than she was, but that was about it. She knew that he managed rental properties. When not worrying about her finances, her thoughts had returned to him throughout the week, and she’d found herself wondering about the many details of his life she didn’t know…yet.

  She thought back to the first time she’d seen him. He’d walked toward her booth with such energy, such life. His brown eyes had been eager, interested, and yet relaxed, and she couldn’t help but wonder if that had just been his mood for that day, or if he was always like that.

  She was so lost in thought, she didn’t even hear the footsteps approaching her. Then a man cleared his throat, and she looked up, finding herself face-to-face with Hank, his cool, brown eyes smiling down on her. She jumped, a blush immediately rising to her cheeks. She couldn’t believe she’d been daydreaming about him so much that she hadn’t even seen the very man walk up to her.

  “Good morning, Cassie.”

  “Morning.” She was flustered and caught off guard, but she was still pleased to see him. Everything involving him felt genuine and real, to where even her confusion didn’t bother her as much as it normally would.

  “I see you have more paintings on display this time.” His gaze left her face to journey about her booth, and she took the opportunity to also check out her surroundings. His hair was as perfect as before, but this time, he wore a lighter blue shirt, with the sleeves rolled up, paired with dark navy pants. He seemed more relaxed, and she found her gaze drawn to the exposed skin of his arms, which confirmed that, yes, he worked out. If his forearms were anything to go by, he worked out quite a bit.

  Her gaze dropped to the ground, feeling self-conscious that she’d been checking out his physique, like he was a subject of a painting rather than a hopefully-returning customer. Though she thought he’d make an amazing model for a painting—but she knew she wouldn’t get much done—she’d be so busy staring at him.

  She made her mind go back to what he’d asked her. Art. Her artwork. “Yes, I did bring more this time. I thought that it might be better to have a little more stock on hand, you know?”

  “I think that’s a smart move, especially since your work is so varied.”

  She looked his way to see his eyes meet hers for a moment. He meant what he was saying. This wasn’t just small talk with him. She realized there was a sincerity to him, from the way he looked at her to the way he chose his words. It went along beautifully with the intensity of his interest, the vibrancy of his personality, and she couldn’t deny that it was a winning combination. She’d had enough of shallow men who weren’t all that committed and didn’t seem to know their own minds to last her a lifetime.

  “I’m glad I’ve got someone fooled,” she said, trying to lighten the mood and steer the conversation in a safe direction, something less personal than her thoughts. She didn’t want him thinking she was fishing for compliments, though, so she quickly added, “How are you liking the one you bought? Did it fit like you planned?”

  “I found the perfect spot, and I can’t stop looking at it when I pass by. You should see how good it looks.”

  “Should I?” She found herself smiling all over again, his words reassuring her that she was doing something right, at least. “That’s good to hear.”

  “I see some of the ones from last week gone. They must have sold like hotcakes.”

  Her stomach tightened. That was only because she didn’t have the room to bring all the paintings at once, so she rotated what she brought. But telling him that the only painting she’d ever sold was the one to him last week would ruin whatever interest he had in her.

  “That’s one way to put it,” she said, silently begging him to not take it further.

  “So, how long have you been here?”

  “I moved here a few weeks ago. This is my first time here at the market. At this market specifically, I mean. It took a little while to finalize my spot. Besides, market stalls don’t come cheap.”

  “Do you get more sales online or at markets like this?”

  “Markets like this.” Technically, that was true. One was more than zero. “But I don’t want to close off any opportunities.” Actually, selling them online was a good idea. It made her stomach drop to think that a customer had better ideas of how to sell her own work than she did. Maybe she didn’t have as good of a gameplan as she’d thought. It obviously took more than setting up a booth once a week, no matter how many pieces she created in the days in-between.

  “I’m glad to hear it’s generating good business for you. You know another thing you should consider are trade shows. You could probably link up with a wedding planner, where she could promote your services to their customers. Giving the gift of a first family portrait is much more meaningful than most of the stuff they give.”

  Another good idea. She wondered how much he knew about what gifts newly married couples receive. Just because he wasn’t wearing a ring now didn’t mean he’d never worn one before. It made her curious.

  “I’ll have to look into that. To be honest, I never thought of it, but it’s a creative idea.”

  He smiled. “I’m full of those. Talk to me more and I’ll keep coming up with them.”

  “I can see that.” She could certainly think of worse things. He was handsome, and the conversation flowed well. But he
was a customer. The only thing he was interested in was her art, no matter how charming he was.

  “I definitely couldn’t do what you do. I’ve tried my hand at it once, and it’s better that nobody sees it.”

  “Really? Now you’re making me want to.”

  “Trust me, you don’t. And I painted the easiest thing to paint in the world: a lake scene. No people or animals. Just water and some trees. Terrible.”

  She leaned against the side of one of the fold-out tables. “Actually, painting water isn’t all that easy. There are ripples to take into account, also the way light plays on the water, whether there’s sunlight or moonlight, which also changes things too. I’m sure you did as good of a job as you could’ve for your first try.”

  He crossed his arms in a way she found strangely adorable. “What was your first like?” he asked.

  She laughed. “I promise, you don’t want to see it either. Mine wasn’t all that good. Sure, there was some natural talent in there, but I’d want to crawl under a rock if you saw it.” Strange that she said him and not everyone. Why would she care what a stranger thought?

  “What was it of?”

  “The ocean. I always wanted to go to Hawaii, so sometimes I’d paint it. The first was of a surfer going under a wave with the sun over his shoulder. I enjoyed putting it to canvas, even though only a handful of people ever saw it.”

  “And did you ever get to go?”

  “To Hawaii? As a matter of fact, I did. I went with a friend of mine about a year ago. It was so much fun. Sun, sand, and lots of drinks with tiny umbrellas in them.”

  He grinned. “Tiny umbrellas, huh?”

  “That’s what everyone says. Anyway, I loved it. I hope to go back there one day. My best friend’s husband has family there, so maybe I could sweet talk him into asking if I could sleep on their couch or something.”

  “With all your success, it might not be long until you can go there in style, right?”

  “Oh. Right.” She grimaced. Already the story she’d told was unraveling. “Sure, one day. I know how expensive it is, and it takes a bit of saving up, even for a successful person.” All true.

  “Fair enough. In other words, how you can paint is impressive, something I couldn’t do.”

  “That’s okay,” she said. “There are lots of jobs I couldn’t do. For one, I’m a hopeless cook.”

  He brightened. “It seems opposites attract. I almost became a chef when I was younger.”

  She realized she wasn’t looking as welcoming to other customers as she could, spending all her time with this one charming person. But luckily for her, nobody else was approaching. The thought struck her funny. Should I consider that lucky? I am here for the crowds.

  “You cook?” She hadn’t expected that.

  “I do, yes. My father cooked a lot, so I learned from him. A few of my friends worked in restaurants, so years ago I had a hand in helping to create new dishes and ideas. It was a lot of fun.”

  She leaned in. A man who cooked was worth that. “That’s pretty attractive. Most guys I know don’t cook very much.” She wanted to say most guys she’d dated hadn’t, but for some reason that felt inappropriate to compare him to.

  He smiled. “Nobody in my circle does either. That’s probably why they all want to come over when I’m cooking.”

  “I didn’t think men like you had time to cook.”

  “Men like me?” He crossed his arms. “And what type of man is that, Cassie?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. You seem like the type to have a cushy office job and plenty of companions to share dinner with.” He didn’t seem like a ladies’ man, but surely, he could get a date if he wanted. In fact, she’d be shocked if he didn’t already have a girlfriend, yet there he was, chatting with her like there was no one else in the world.

  “Plenty of companions, huh?” He leaned back against the tree with a smirk, though his tone seemed pretty serious, as though he wanted to make something quite clear. “Something like that. Although I haven’t talked to someone as interesting as you for a while.”

  “Nice of you to say. We artists aren’t always the best conversationalists.”

  “If that’s a thing, they haven’t met you yet.”

  She looked down at the concrete at his feet, her cheeks rosy and warm. He certainly wasn’t leaving her guessing, and he seemed to have no plans to play around with her feelings. He was being completely up-front with her, despite how that might make him look, and she found she liked that about him.

  If only she hadn’t started things off by lying.

  “Did anyone else at home second-guess your art selections?”

  “Do you mean…?” He chuckled. “No, I’m not living with anyone. So that made the decision to bring your painting home easy, you could say. There isn’t much democracy in a one-person household.”

  She tried not to feel encouraged when he said he was single, but she couldn’t help herself. Her stomach lurched, and she felt herself more on the edge of her seat to pay attention to everything he said, if such a thing were possible.

  “It just means I can hang out at your booth without upsetting someone,” he continued, “unless there’s a jealous boyfriend waiting in the wings, eyeballing me for so much as looking at his girlfriend.” He raised his eyebrows, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

  “No, no jealous boyfriend, or husband, or…anything, really.” She shook her head, happy to have found a topic where she could tell the truth at last. “There’s a best friend a few cities over who might get bent out of shape if a man doesn’t treat me right, but I don’t think I have to worry about that.”

  “Best friend?”

  “The one I went to Hawaii with. She and I have been friends forever, but she just found herself a man down there. I’m happy for her, but he keeps her pretty busy. Even when we were on vacation together—they got wrapped up in each other a lot.”

  “Ah. And you didn’t come back with a Hawaiian man too?” The sparkle had returned to his eyes, making them seem to dance in the light.

  “No, not for me. It seems they aren’t my type.”

  “What is your type?” There was no pressure in his tone, but he was definitely curious.

  “I don’t know. I guess I like men from North Carolina.”

  He seemed to like that one.

  “Maybe…someone a bit less laid back than Hanna’s husband,” she said, “and better dressed?” She laughed and shook her head, feeling the blush return again. “I’m rambling. I probably don’t know what I want.”

  “Maybe you just haven’t thought about it much. Personally, I like the artistic types. Smart, creative, driven…not afraid to take chances. All that.”

  Her eyes met his, and the focus she saw there made her breath catch. She wasn’t quite prepared for that. He was a man who was driven, who went after what he wanted.

  “You don’t ask for much, do you?” she asked.

  He shrugged, and she could see the good humor beneath the surface, as though he recognized her teasing for what it was. Not rejection, but just an attempt to slow the pace a little.

  “I’m a simple man. But I expect the world.”

  “Wouldn’t a simple man not speak in riddles?”

  He let his arms slip down to his sides. “You’ve got me there.”

  She just now noticed she could smell his cologne, fresh and rich all at the same time. Complex, just like him. She tried to speak but found her words lingering at the back of her throat.

  She turned and busied herself with her things, rearranging her prints yet again. He didn’t say anything for a long moment. When he spoke, it was quiet. “Whenever you feel you’re ready with a recommendation, let me know. You did such a good job with your last pick, I know you’ll do well with the next one.”

  Not thinking he was serious, she said, “How about the one closest to you?”

  “I’ll take it.”

  “You’re buying another?” It was out of her mouth before she could stop it, and she
scolded herself for being a terrible salesperson. Without having sold any, selling two in a row seemed inconceivable to her.

  “I told you I was a collector. I see promise in your work—like I said last week.” He leaned forward across the table, ever so slightly. “Besides, you’re running a business. I can’t just monopolize your time without giving you a return on investment. It wouldn’t be fair. And I want to get ahead of the rush.”

  He referred to her “faithful fans” again. If he only knew. “I think I’ll be a best-kept secret for a while,” she said, trying to tease back while her heart sank. She really hoped he wasn’t buying more just on her fake reputation. She wouldn’t feel right about that, even if it resulted in paying all her bills on time.

  “I’ll be happy with having you to myself for a while before you get famous.”

  There was that line again, about her being a famous artist. She wished she believed in fate enough to buy into it, especially after hearing it twice so soon together. Although the first part could have a double meaning. Surely he meant her art.

  She wondered what that meant. Was he just talking about her art, to where he wouldn’t mind the competition showing up, so long as he got his selections first? Or was it more personal, to where he was admitting to enjoying their time together but freely admitting it wouldn’t last forever? He fished out his wallet and handed over the full price for the painting.

  “Do you come here every week?” she asked.

  His brown eyes sparkled. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

  “No promises this time?”

  “Maybe I just like to surprise you. Although it probably won’t be.”

  She fumbled with the key to her money box, trying to shake off the jitters. She didn’t know if he was simply flirting or not. It could just be empty words meant to coax a smile or a phone number. She’d thought she had a good radar when it came to all that, but it had been off lately. Not to mention, she was rusty. It’s probably just words…just like my fake artistic reputation.