Hailey

I ended up making the most of the storage space out back. The guys had been out here working for two solid weeks, and things were coming along nicely. Bryan didn’t seem to have any other issues with the men he’d employed, and the guy he brought in to replace the one he fired was an absolute sweetheart. He always made sure he was doing the right thing and would talk about his wife every chance he got.

It wasn’t until later I found out his wife had passed on the streets, and my heart bled for him.

I was able to fit a little chair into the storage space in the corner. I had tossed a blanket over the boxes of paintings, putting another little barrier between them and the elements. One by one, I started looking through them. They were paintings I had done of things that had inspired me on my journey to find this place. There was a picture of an open field with a horse running in the background while a man chased after it. The greens and yellows all bled together, painting an autumn landscape as the man shouted at his horse to come back.

The freedom of the horse made me smile, even if the man was in such distress trying to get the stallion back into his stall.

The fluid muscles of the brown and white stallion had caught my stare. I had been walking along the road, making my way back to the small town where I’d rented an attic for a while. To this day, that was my favorite stretch of road to walk, a barren road in Texas with nothing but farmland, animals, and gravel roads to lead you home.

Then there was another painting I’d done of a row of three-story townhomes in the middle of Nevada. They had all been painted different colors. One was pink. Another was blue. One was halfway between purple and green, and to this day I’m still not sure what color they were painting over. Some of the windows were busted out and the concrete in front of the houses was cracked and growing with weeds, but there was a beauty in all of it. The beauty wasn’t only in the colors but in the fact that the ground had been slowly penetrating through one of the harder, manmade substances, a foundation we seem to trust with our road systems and our driveways, our homes and even our biking curbs.

And yet, those weeds had found their way through its vulnerabilities to climb into the light and claw their way to the sunshine.

There was a beauty in its strength I couldn’t ignore.

Then, there was the one I hadn’t finished yet. It was the pose I simply couldn’t get out of my head. The one with Bryan holding up his beer. I was able to perfect his tattoos, mimicking the shading and geometric shapes just right. I was able to do more detailing on the beautiful muscles that covered his body, now that I’d seen him up close and hugged him against my skin. I ran my fingertips over the crude outline, my eyes focusing on the searching, wandering look in his eye I remembered from that night. I still wanted to know what he had been searching for as he scanned out over that memorial service.

I felt a hitch in my throat, and I tried to swallow back my tears.

When this gallery was finished, everyone would be able to witness this beauty. They could appreciate the strength of the weeds and the colors of the neglected buildings. The freedom of the horse despite its owner yelling at it to come back. The vulnerability behind Bryan’s eyes. The sensuality of the curves of his muscles. The mesmerizing aura of his tattoos.

Their truth, both beautiful and sad, would be able to influence anyone who came in to witness them.

I heard someone approaching the storage unit, and I quickly covered everything back up. I slid the paintings back into their boxes before I pulled the sheet back over them. A knock came at the door, heavy but still tentative with curiosity. I stood up and threw it open, smiling when I saw Bryan’s eyes come into view.

And then I noticed he was sweating.

In a tank top.

“Hey there, I was looking for you. I’ve got some ideas I want to run by you for the outer design of the building. You got a moment?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure. Um, could you help me, though, for a second? You said that little back room is ready, right?” I asked.

“Yep. Got the light and switch installed like you wished. We finished up that sheetrock yesterday. It’ll have to be painted, but—”

“Perfect. Is there any way you could help me get a couple of these boxes in there?” I asked.

“You sure you want to put them in there even though we still have to paint?” he asked. “I’d hate for anything to get ruined.”

“They won’t be in there forever. I can slide them along the floor once I actually get them in there,” I said.

“Where’s their final destination?” he asked.

“Eventually, the back of my car, but I’ll settle for that room for now.”

“We could put them back there now,” he said.

“The sun will stream through, though, and alter the paintings. The more weather-tempered I can keep them, the better,” I said.

“Makes sense. Sure, I can help. Just show me which boxes you want me to move.”

“It’s only two. I can get the smaller one, but that bigger one I need help with.”

I pointed them out to him, and he bent over to pick it up. The way his beads of sweat rolled down his back, it painted a picture I wouldn’t have protested to explore. His muscles rolled as he bent down, his arms flexing and his sweat glistening against his tanned skin. There wasn’t a divot on his skin I wouldn’t enjoy dancing my fingertips along, and there was a part of me that wanted to reach out and brush the beads of sweat away from his forehead, so I could feel my skin against his.

I felt my body heating up as he grasped the box. His hands were large, easily lifting the box in his hands as my eyes traveled down his body. His back was full of chiseled muscle waiting to be explored by someone’s tongue, but the moment his tank top rode up a little more, I froze.

He had a tattoo on his lower back, and it was a picture of a cabin in the woods.

It was akin to the cabin painting he wanted to claim as his own.

In that very moment, my heated blood froze. My body that had been pounding for this rippling, sweating man stood rooted to its spot. That tattoo he hadn’t designed, but it wasn’t possible for it to be the same as the picture John had painted. That tattoo was a bit faded, a good few years older than the ones he had on his arms.

His first tattoo.

“Hailey, you comin’?” he asked.

I was ripped from my trance and saw his eyes dancing around my face. His shoulders glistened in the hot San Diego sun as my eyes trailed down his chest. His tank top was glued to him. Laying into every single dip his muscles had to offer. His broad chest was on display, and his abs flexed against the thin cotton material. In that moment, I wanted to reach out to him, pull him into me, and simply bask in the strength of his body. There was a beauty to him that stemmed beyond the carnal. I wanted to paint him in every single position. In every single type of light. With every single backdrop he could afford.

Then I wanted to paint him with my tongue.

“Yes. Sorry. You just ... hoisted that thing right up, didn’t you?” I asked, giggling.

“It pays to be strong,” he said, grinning.

I picked up the smaller box and headed behind him into the building. We dropped both of the boxes down onto the small table I had moved into the art room, and that’s when I got my first look at the finished product. The sheetrock was up, and it had already been painted in a thin coat of white paint. It reminded me of the white that begins a canvas right before an artist takes control.

And I had an idea.

“Bryan, I think this room’s just fine without another coat of paint,” I said.

“You sure? I figured you’d want the walls in here to match the walls out there,” he said.

“Well, I’m the only one who’s going to be back here anyway. And I sort of want to paint it myself. You know, as a personal project.”

Patterns and pictures were already dancing in my gaze. Streaks of golden yellow and oranges were dancing around, plastering themselves on the outer edges as it faded slowly into the middle. Blacks and blues and reds painted the wall in splatters, like someone simply dipped a brush in and flicked it against the wall. I smiled at the chaos coming to life before my eyes. I could hear the laughter of my sister and I as we coated the walls in random colors.

It could be a wonderful project for us, and maybe light a fire underneath her to pursue the life she wanted.

“My first therapy patient,” I said to myself.

“If that’s what you want, then that’s what you’ll get,” Bryan said.

“Thank you. Which means I don’t have to haul those boxes anywhere else,” I said.

“Works out for everyone then.”

“So,” I said as I turned around to face him, “how’s the rest of the place going?”

“Well, after today, all the sheetrock will be replaced. Then we’ll turn our attention to the outer part of the building while a few of the guys are laying down your black flooring.”

“Onyx,” I said.

“That too. Want to step outside with me so I can show you some of my ideas?”

“Sure.”

I followed him through the building and out front, all the while not being able to peel my eyes off him. He had to know what he looked like in that shirt and how distracting his body was right now. The sweat was still running down his neck as he craned his head back to take in the building, and I still felt the urge to run my fingers up underneath his shirt and wet my skin with his scent.

“Do you have a name for your gallery?” he asked.

“Yep. Misty Beauty Art Gallery,” I said.

“Misty Beauty Art Gallery,” he said.

“Don’t like it?” I asked.

“It suits you.”

“Why do I suspect that’s a bad thing?”

“Because you’re secretly insecure and want someone to approve of your choice,” he said, grinning.

“I’m the furthest thing from insecure, thank you very much,” I said.

“Whatever you say,” he said as his grin grew. “What I was thinking of was this. We have a sign protruding out front that rises up above the building. It’ll have the name of the gallery on it, and then one of those electronic signs where you can advertise stuff. If you have a specific artist you’re showcasing or a specific theme you’re going for. Maybe you could advertise a sales deal or a class you’re giving. It’ll be easier to toggle with than one of those signs you slide the letters into. You’d be able to alter what the sign says by simply using the downloaded application on your computer. You’ll have some sort of computer in the gallery with you, right?”

“Yep. It’ll make monetary transactions easier,” I said.

“You have a very eclectic taste but in a beautiful way. Since your message is to bring beauty to the darkness, I figured the backdrop of your sign could be black, the name of your shop could be cream-colored... the same color as the walls of your gallery... and it could have a few splashes or splotches of paint. Not bright, neon colors, but more matte and opaque. A deep blue here, a hunter green there. A pale yellow to bring contrast to the cream-colored letters without being tacky and too bold.”

“I actually like that idea,” I said. “And thank you for the compliment.”

“What?” he asked.

“You said my taste was eclectically beautiful. Thank you.”

“Oh. No, you’re welcome. Anyway, my only issue is painting the building black. Usually, signs and stores match. But I don’t like the idea of painting the entire building black and splotching it like that.”

“Me neither,” I said.

“So, I was thinking about painting the outside of the building cream-colored as well. Make the shutters on the windows black, then trim the doorway and make the door out of that bird’s-eye maple you want to mount the pictures on the wall inside with. Then, we could paint the door something bold. Like a strong crimson red or even the same pale yellow that’ll bring a nice contrast to the sign. We can decide that later. That’s just the basic idea. What do you think?” he asked.

I was absolutely stunned by his vision. Everything tied together without being too formal, and every single part of me could see it. I could see the bird’s-eye maple and the colorful sign. I could see the pale yellow door and the black shutters. I could see what the window into my shop would look like. The artist’s name that would be displayed on the electronic sign as their artwork was staged in the window.

I was shocked speechless at the way he painted that image for me. Just with his words.

“I love it,” I said breathlessly.

“You do?” he asked.

“I love everything about it, Bryan.”

I turned toward him with a wide smile crossing my face. I couldn’t hide my shock. I had no idea what I was getting into with him suggesting ideas on how to do the outside of my gallery, but this was nothing like I expected. It was well thought out and tied into the premise that was building the foundation of this gallery. He had sat down and taken time to run through this. He’d probably drawn it out somewhere to pour it out onto a sheet of paper.

I wondered if he would like to come to a class if only to explore this side of him that was screaming to be let out.

“So, you want us to go for it?” he asked.

“Definitely. I love everything about that image you just painted. Make the door the same pale yellow as the yellow you use on the sign. The bird’s-eye maple swirl pattern will still bleed through a pale color like that, and I really love the design of that type of wood.”

“Whatever you want,” he said. “Now, there’s something I need to talk with you about.”

“What’s up?” I asked.

“We hauled ass these first two weeks to get a lot of stuff done because now the work won’t be every day. We’ll still get it done by the timeframe designated in the contract you signed, but I do have other commitments that require my attention as well. The downtime will allow me to tend to those projects while I order and gather the things we’ll need to get the outside of this place going.”

“That’s fine. I totally understand that,” I said.

“There might be a guy or two that dips in to put some finishing touches on things, but none of the homeless employees will be on-site without someone else from the company here.”

“Like I said, I trust you with this project.”

“We should have all the flooring work done by the end of the week, and then, that’s where we’ll pause. All the electrical wiring is covered up, and the plumbing is back in good working condition. We don’t want to leave anything exposed to any of the elements, so once the flooring has been ripped up and the new one’s been put down, that’ll be our stopping point before the intermittent work begins.”

“Perfect,” I wanted to do something to show my gratitude. Something to show him how absolutely thankful I was that he came knocking on my rickety door that day. I wanted to get him something or treat him to something, maybe paint him someone for free or offer for him to come to the classes once the art gallery’s set up.

But my mouth ran away from me before I could catch myself.

“Would you like to come to dinner with me?” I asked.

“What?”

“You’ve done so much for me so far, taking the pay cut and allowing me to pay you in paintings. You haven’t once offered to cut corners to put more money back into your pocket, and I know you’ve been coming by earlier in the mornings to look things over. You’ve put a great deal of work and emotion into this project, and not once have you ever complained about it.”

“Not to you, at least,” he said, winking.

“All this to say the least I can do is treat you to a dinner.”

I could tell he was a bit surprised. That playful Bryan I’d just had in front of me while we were talking about colors and letters and signs disappeared rather quickly, and in his place was the reserved, hesitant Bryan I’d gotten to know very well. This Bryan didn’t allow any distractions to derail him from his final goal. This Bryan kept people at arm’s length because of the hurt he’d suffered throughout his life.

But still, there was a twinge of curiosity behind his gaze.

I knew I’d invited him out because of my attraction to him, but I also wanted to show him how grateful I was to him. He was facilitating my dream and allowing this to be possible. Had he not come knocking on my door with his morals and his fantastical ideas, I probably would’ve never seen this completely to fruition. I would’ve allowed the money problems to bury me alive.

It was because of his generosity that I was now able to see this through, and I wanted him to know that.

“I guess that wouldn’t hurt,” he said, much to my utter shock. “I’ve got time in about a week or so. How does that sound?”

“Sounds fine to me. I’m free anytime, really.”

“Until we get this gallery of yours up and running. Then, you won’t have much time at all.”

“And it’ll be absolutely wonderful,” I said, smiling.

“Well, I better get back to work. It’s time for some of my guys to take their lunch break anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go on. Get in there, tiger.”

I physically cringed at how badly that sounded, but the only thing Bryan did was laugh. The sound was so refreshing, like the ocean water pumping life back into a restless, storm-blown town. He looked back at me one last time, his eyes not attempting to hide the fact that he was looking me up and down. I felt my cheeks blazing with fire as he walked back inside ready to dig into some hands-on work while I stayed outside simply staring at the tattered outside of the building.

Was going out with Bryan a bad idea? Yes, I’d suggested dinner, but I also wasn’t denying how attractive he was. It would be easy to lose myself in him for an evening, to fall into his crisp brown eyes and run my fingertips up along the outline of his tattoos. Even as I watched him smooth his large hand over the sheetrock, I could feel my body shiver for him. My fingertips were electric, wanting to shock his body into holding mine as I felt every rippling muscle of his slide along my skin.

If he offered something more, I wasn’t too sure I would be able to deny him.

And honestly? I wasn’t sure I’d want to anyway.