Chapter Three
The next morning, Barry stepped out of the shower and took a good, hard look at his naked bod in the mirror. He puffed out his chest. Would Amber want this? He was long and lean, sort of a string-bean effect going on here. He struck a pose, arms up, flexing his muscles. He had some muscle definition along his biceps and abs from the pushups and stomach crunches he’d added to his morning routine months ago in an effort to up his hotness factor, but nothing extraordinary. He thought about beefy Rick with muscles and tattoos coming out the wazoo. Did Amber want more of the same, or was she ready for a change?
Last night at three a.m., she’d woken up, mumbled bye, and went to bed. He’d gone home, took care of his bad case of blue balls, and fallen asleep. He’d woken up determined to end his involuntary celibacy ASAP. With Amber. She was so different from the women in his past. She fascinated him. An artist with a sense of humor—she’d laughed at his jokes as so few did—and an innate kindness.
He dressed quickly in his black Dancing Cow T-shirt, rainbow tie-dyed boxers, and black pants, thinking of the romantic heroes in his mom’s novels. They all had mouth-watering (according to the heroines, who drooled a lot) pecs, abs, and biceps. Maybe he should up his game, really go for the muscle thing. Couldn’t hurt. Might even give him a confidence boost. He’d read in Cosmo (he just happened to stumble upon an issue online) that the ladies responded to confidence. He might even unknowingly be giving off an aura of desperation with his single state going on fifteen months, three weeks, and two days.
He grabbed his iPad and did a quick search online for workout DVDs. He’d just see what happened. Expectations set reassuringly low. Ah, this one sounded good with a lot of five-star reviews: Six-Pack Abs and Two-Pack Butt in 30 Days. Perfect. Ooh, and it was set to a party song mashup. See, this could be fun. He ordered it with express delivery.
Out of curiosity, he looked up Amber Lewis and art. He found her paintings on eArt. Look at this stuff. Awesome. He bought the most expensive one, a splatter of black, white, and red, somehow made feminine by puffs of pale green behind it. It was unusual, one of a kind, and gorgeous.
Just like Amber.
~ ~ ~
Amber spent the weekend in a rush of creative energy. Her paintings were selling on eArt, and she was so encouraged she dove into a series of paintings detailing her feelings. She called this series Elation. Polka dots exploded on the first canvas, the second bouncing marshmallows, the third a serene sunset, one of the few naturalistic paintings in her collection.
She still couldn’t believe her most expensive painting had sold. Two hundred bucks. And then shockingly the next day, she’d sold another painting. And then another. Three paintings in three days! So far the sales had been from the same collector, a woman named Susan Dancy, but she hoped more people would discover her soon too.
She dipped her brush in fire red and made a diffuse line around the sun. Painting all the time was glorious. She felt like she’d finally made it. She was a success.
Over the next two weeks, Amber’s creative energy amped up to a frenzy. She was selling paintings nearly as fast as she posted them on eArt. Susan Dancy was her biggest fan ever. She’d made over two thousand dollars in the past couple of weeks. Newfound hope and renewed interest in her craft had her swearing off men and dedicating herself to her art.
She called things off with Rick, who responded with, “Whatever, babe, I’ve had better.” What a jerk. She had no time for people who didn’t one hundred percent support her artistic side.
She lost herself in painting her latest, titled Jubilation, a pink starburst surrounded by beautiful golden light. Hours passed like a blink of an eye, until she finished the painting and looked up, surprised to find it was night. Her back ached, her stomach growled, and she slowly returned to reality. She spotted a slip of paper by her front door and smiled. Bare never wanted to interrupt her artistic flow, so he just slipped her a note now and then to see when it would be good to hang out.
She knocked on his door. He answered, shirtless. My, my, my. Someone is working out. He had mouth-watering abs. A dusting of light hair ran down his chest, leading to a happy trail that made her lick her lips. Geez, it hadn’t been that long since she was with a man. She forced her gaze back to his eyes.
He smiled—big time.
“You forgot your shirt, Bare.”
“I was just changing.” He turned and reached for a clean white T-shirt from a pile of laundry in a nearby basket. “I like to leave work at work, you know?”
His work shirt was also a T-shirt but whatever.
“You want to see what I’m working on?” she asked.
“Love to.”
He followed her to her apartment, where she showed him her work-in-progress. She planned to let it dry and return to it with another layer of paint tomorrow.
He studied it, then turned to her. “What do you call this one?”
“Jubilation.”
He nodded. “It fits. So things are going well, then, huh?”
She put her hands on her hips and looked around at the newly completed canvases lining the wall of her living room. “Amazingly, they are. Hey, you want to get some takeout? I forgot to eat lunch.”
“Sure.”
“Great. Thai okay?” She headed for the kitchen drawer full of take-out menus.
“Works for me.”
A few minutes later, she’d placed the order, and they sat on the sofa with a couple of beers. Bare was so easy to be with. He was always so cheerful and agreeable, quick with a joke, and he liked her art. Friends didn’t get any better than that. Sure, she had Daisy and Steph, another teacher friend, but Bare was right across the hall and available at a moment’s notice. It was nice having a friend so close by that could just stop by whenever. She hadn’t felt lonely ever since he’d moved in.
“Guess what?” she said.
He smiled. “What?”
“My art’s selling really well. I mean, really well.” She couldn’t help her ridiculously happy smile. “I’m selling my paintings almost as fast as I put them up on the website.”
He straightened. “That’s great!”
She took a sip of beer. “I know!”
Bare grabbed the remote. “Feel like watching more Zombie Bonanza?”
“Sure. So far it’s just one collector buying, but it’s a start.”
“Mmm…yeah, a start.” He pressed a few buttons on the remote. “Do you know who it is?”
“Yeah, I’ve got the name and address. I’m the one shipping them.”
“Anyone you know?” He still wasn’t looking at her.
“No. Why?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. Ah, here we are. Lots of zombies eating brains.”
Bare was acting a little stranger than usual.
“Why would you ask if I know them?” she asked. “Don’t you think it’s possible someone I don’t know actually likes my art?”
“Of course. Forget I said that. Sometimes my mouth moves without clearance from my brain.”
He held out his arm in invitation. She hesitated, then gave in, cuddling up against his side as she always did when they watched TV.
As soon as she had more buyers, she was quitting her job. If she could dedicate herself full-time to painting, well, it would be a dream come true. She could live frugally if it meant she could create art for a living.
“Bare?”
“Hmm?”
“You ever think I could make a living as a painter?”
“I think you can do whatever you put your mind to.”
She gave him a little squeeze around the middle and met hard, toned muscle. She sat up quickly, startled by the rush of heat that ran through her and her sudden urge to explore that muscle with her fingers and tongue.
“Thanks,” she said.
He smiled at her. She felt a rush of love for him just for being so supportive. Was she that starved for encouragement?
He turned back to the TV, holding his arm out for her to return to her spot against his side. She thought maybe a little space was a good thing. Her brain was getting crossed signals, mixing up friendly affection with love. She stayed where she was, and he dropped his arm.
They both took a long drink of beer. She considered how uber-supportive Bare was compared to her family, who considered art a waste of time. Her father was a physics professor, her stepmother also, and her younger half-sister Kate was working on the same. Kate would soon graduate a year early from college and head to grad school for her doctorate in physics. The only way Amber had been able to major in art, and have her dad help with the tuition, was if she also majored in education. Her dad said he wasn’t flushing his money down the toilet on a degree that made her unemployable.
So she was an elementary school art teacher by default. She loved kids, but the hard truth was, except for the occasional student, most kids didn’t care about art. They considered art class a chance to run around and throw markers.
Bare gave her hair a playful tug. “Hey, Pink Hair, why so down?”
“I’m fine. Just thinking.” She blew out a breath and tried to think positive. “In two months I’ll have the whole summer to paint.”
“Sounds like an artist’s dream.”
She nodded and cuddled up against his side again. He wrapped his arm around her, and she was enveloped in warmth. She breathed in his clean scent. He always smelled like the ocean. His arm tightened around her, and she felt suddenly like she was in a loving embrace. Was it just her desperate need for approval of her art that made her feel this way, or was something building between them? She didn’t know, but cuddling with Bare, watching her favorite show just felt right.