The crazy little lady had some skeletons in that closet of hers. Tame skeletons compared to his, but skeletons nonetheless. For some reason, it made him feel more normal that he and his friends weren’t the only ones skirting the lines of social norms for money.

Although she got way more money for her gigs than they did for theirs. She had to be a hell of an artist. That was some serious dough for the guy to lay down for a painting of a naked guy, even if he got to watch a beautiful naked woman paint it. He could pay a lot less and get a lot more.

Dave moved so he could see who was at the door.

A nerdy-looking dude with a stained shirt and messy hair stood outside the apartment.

“Hey, Joe,” Janie said, leaving the door only opened a crack. “I still don’t have weed for you to borrow.”

“No, I’m good on that. Do you want a toke?” Joe, probably in his early twenties, gave her a hazy smile.

“No, thanks.”

“Cool. Hey. Did you know there’s a bunch of art out here?” He followed his question with a vaguely pointed finger.

“Yeah. Thanks.” Janie glanced back at Dave, and he saw an uncomfortable expression cross her face for the first time.

He was walking forward before he knew it. Sure, he should mind his own business now. She was safe, all was well, he should let it go.

But curiosity wasn’t just for girls named Pandora.

“It’s heavy. I’ll get it later.” Janie put out a hand to stop Dave.

“I’m a man. I lift things in order to impress girls. That’s my job.” He put a hand to her shoulder and lightly moved her to the side.

“Art isn’t heavy,” Joe said, scratching his head. “What, is it made of iron or something?” His eyes widened and his gaze zipped back and forth across Dave’s torso. He took a step back. “Hey, bro.”

“Hey.” Dave looked around the doorway, immediately finding the art. The canvases against the wall were of various sizes, and they were individually covered in brown sheets instead of the usual paper that would have needed to be ripped off.

At least the iron comment didn’t sound so stupid, since they were covered. Still, though, Joe wasn’t a rocket scientist, that was clear.

“Just leave them.” Janie stepped out. Her voice screamed uncomfortable. “I can grab them later. It’s fine. No one will take them. This apartment complex isn’t known for its art appreciators.”

“I like art,” Joe said slowly.

“Whadda we got here?” Dave said as he picked up the first painting. The brown sheet fluttered to the ground, not secured. He was about to ask about it when he laid eyes on the canvas.

He froze.

“No, don’t—”

Dave turned his back to Janie, preventing her from returning the sheet. His mouth dropped open.

Joe said, “Whoa, shit.”

Whoa shit was right.

Three feet by three feet, the painting wasn’t much in the way of a picture. A simple landscape in the desert. But the colors, and the way they flowed across the canvas—hinting at shape and melting together—made him feel like he was floating in a dream. It took his breath away. He couldn’t stop staring at it.

“That’s wicked.” Joe crowded in. “Can we see the others?”

“It’s nothing. They’re nothing.” Janie stepped around him, still trying to cover the painting he held.

Dave turned his back on her again and handed off the desert painting to Joe. He grabbed the next one and pulled back the sheet. Two people holding hands this time, their faces pointed at each other. The couple seemed so happy. In heaven. The emotions emanated off the canvas, but for the life of him, he couldn’t pinpoint why. They weren’t even smiling.

The next was just as outstanding. And the next. Every scene transported him into a different set of emotions, invoking feelings deep down and pulling them to the surface.

Shivers coated his body. Her talent was indescribable. All she needed was a venue. A gallery in a city where people had money. Her work would sell itself. He didn’t know anything about art, but he knew that.

“Atticus must’ve hated that you could do this,” he said without thinking, remembering the piece of crap painting in the ex’s living room.

“Can you take them inside now, please?” Janie’s little hands were pulling at his arm. Maybe they had been for a while.

“Can I have one of these?” Joe held a nude painting of a woman sitting on a stone bench and staring off into the sunset. Only the top of her butt showed, the rest turned away, including her face, but Dave somehow knew it was a self-portrait. The model’s pose—serene yet sensual—screamed Janie.

His cock stiffened.

This image was how Janie felt when she painted. He’d bet his life on it. And if he was right, that man in Arizona was getting more than his money’s worth. Watching her paint in the nude would be the most erotic experience imaginable—and Dave had a hell of an imagination.

He snatched the painting away from Joe. “Not this one.”

“But that’s the best one,” Joe whined.

Dave draped the sheet over it. For some reason, he didn’t want anyone else seeing it. “Put that in your room.” He handed it off to Janie.

“I’m going to put all of them in my room, actually.” She replaced the covers. “Are you going to help carry, or are you tired from snooping?”

“Snooping never makes me tired.” He carefully picked up the rest and headed inside.

“What about that desert one?” Joe followed. “It’s a trip. I bet dropping acid and staring at it would create, like, an Alice in Wonderland situation, don’t you think?”

Janie sighed and shook her head, pausing near her bedroom door. She glanced back at Dave. “Give him the desert one. Otherwise he’ll never let it go.”

“But you can sell these.” Dave didn’t move to comply. “You need a starting collection. The desert one fits in with the theme of the others.”

She smiled at him, a placating sort of expression. She was silently calling him dumb.

He narrowed his eyes. “No, I don’t know what I’m saying, but it seems like it fits.”

She laughed and continued into her room. “It’s not even remotely in the same theme.” She put the covered canvas in her closet.

He very nearly rushed forward to grab it out again. It seemed sacrilege to hide such a provocative piece of art.

She came for the rest of them as Joe wandered into her room.

“No.” Dave shook his head and pointed for Joe to get out. “You don’t come in here. Ever.”

“Dude, are you her boyfriend or something? Why are you so territorial?” Joe edged away but didn’t leave.

“He’s insane, that’s why.” Janie rolled her eyes and took the paintings two at a time to lean against the wall. She grabbed the desert one.

“I’m her friend. Friends chase creeps away from other friends.” Dave shifted, blocking the way from her to Joe. “But seriously, you need a collection for a gallery. That one is great. You shouldn’t give it away.”

“I can paint more. Mr. Creepy Rich Guy buys me everything I need and lets me keep the supplies. They’re in the car.” She paused, and that level stare was back. “Because I didn’t have enough hands to carry everything, and Mr. Creepy Whorebag Guy was waiting in my room so I couldn’t do more trips.”

“Dooode, that’s fucked up,” Joe said.

“But anyway.” She shoved another painting into the closet forcefully, with a lack of care that made Dave wince. “I need to get an agent. That’s the best way to negotiate with the galleries, I’ve heard. Maybe even to get my work in galleries. I just don’t know how to get one.”

“I’m sure it’s just a matter of asking Google.” Dave grimaced as she edged around him and handed the desert painting over to Joe. It felt a lot like sacrilege. “Then you follow the directions and voila. Agent. It shouldn’t be hard for you, Janie. I might not know much about themes, but I can see talent. Clearly you have a lot of it.”

“Remember that part about my issue with reading?” She pushed Joe along the hallway and toward the door. “I mean, I can do it, but it’s frustrating and takes longer than it should. I feel like an idiot. I’ve thought about getting a better computer, though. One that dictates. Once I have that, I think I can work something out. Or maybe swallow my pride and finally let Madison help me. She’s been asking to for forever.”

“Thanks, Janie.” Joe stared at the painting in wonder as he meandered out of the room. They trailed after him.

“Why don’t you like asking for help?” Dave asked as Janie closed the door behind Joe.

“Why doesn’t anyone?” She moved into the kitchen.

“I don’t know. I guess I’ve never really thought about it.” He settled onto a stool at the island as she peered into the cabinets.

“What do you want to drink?” she asked.

“Don’t care. How ’bout I look the info up for you? I’m not super smart or anything, but I can read and make notes easy enough. Then you can just call people or do whatever you’re supposed to do.”

The bottle of gin made a soft thunk when it hit the countertop. “Thanks. I’ll get my things together and ask you when I need help.”

“Yeah, but you just said…” He rolled his eyes at how dense he was. “Cute.”

She grinned and took down a mixer.

He leaned forward on the counter. “You’re going to get my help. Just know that.”

“Oooh.” She mock-shivered. “I’m so scared.”

“Weird response.”

“With the stuff you come out with, do you ever hear anything but weird responses?” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Anyway, I have a plan. First, I’ll get a roommate. Then I’ll get a computer. Then I’ll do the research and figure stuff out. I might need to prepare a specific portfolio to get an agent, in which case, I want to hold off painting until then. Art supplies are expensive. I don’t want to waste them.”

“How’d you get all this stuff back here?” he asked absently while his wheels turned. His current situation, and his recent goals, collided with hers in his mind—and they fit.

Suddenly, he knew exactly what he needed to do. What would work perfectly for her and him both.

She would absolutely hate the idea.