After I selected another tube, I squeezed it onto the palette. I added white to the pink and dabbed it on the canvas. Afterward, I swirled the brush into a jar of turpentine, and then blended brown with the blue on top.
There.
Perfect.
I put that away and replaced it with a new canvas I’d already primed. I changed the medium to acrylic and dabbed colors on the palette.
When my eyes began to droop, I looked at the time. Midnight. Lee wasn’t home yet. Not that I’d expected him to come home early on account of me.
I got up. My muscles felt tight from sitting for hours. As I listened to “Rocking Around the Christmas Tree” singing and painting, I zoned into my creative world.
My piece looked like a unicorn had gotten sick and thrown up a rainbow. But that was how I thought all of my paintings looked at the beginning stage. I laughed at that thought and swung my arms back to stretch.
The walls around me were several feet away so I shouldn’t have hit anything, but I did.
Not again. I swallowed and turned slowly. Lee held a blank expression with blue paint smeared across his black and white dress shirt. He must be infuriated. Twice I had done this to him.
“I’m so sorry, Lee.” I covered my mouth, trying not to laugh.
I thought he was going to react the way he had the last time, so I mentally prepared myself for a scowl and a scolding. But instead he took the paintbrush out of my hand and swiped it across my shirt with a smirk.
Astounded, I gasped and lowered my gaze to the blue streak. I took my brush back, dipped it into pink and splashed it on his black pants. Lee furrowed his brow, scooped up white paint from the palette, and slopped it on my hair.
“You—what’s that for?” I took two paint-drenched brushes and made circles on both of his cheeks.
Lee grabbed a tube and squirted it on my neck. “For making me think of you all night. You didn’t text me back.”
What did he mean by that? I only recalled how he hadn’t finished and left me hanging. I laughed off his words and abandoned myself to the adrenaline rush.
He thought that was the worst I could do?
“Well, you should have stayed home, you big baby.” I grabbed the canvas with wet paint, smeared it on his head, and ran.
The canvas thudded on the hardwood floor and tumbled to the side.
Lee growled playfully. That sound gave me the shivers in more ways than one. With his hands drenched in gobs of paint, dripping on the floor, he went after me.
“No, no, no.” I went to the left of the standing easels and then the right.
His wide grin made me smile bigger as he continued to chase me. We circled around the easels, our laughter bouncing off the walls. Lee gripped my shirt from the back and I slipped on a smear of something cold and gooey.
I dropped sideways and he fell on top of me, his forearms keeping him from crushing me. The playfulness evaporated, air leaving our lungs in heavy spurts.
Our eyes locked with something much deeper than before. His gaze slid to my lips and his eyes darkened. He inched toward my mouth, torturously slow, as his finger brushed my cheek.
Lee, what are you doing to me?
My heart ricocheted inside the cavity of my chest as fast as his thumped against me. As we exchanged panting breaths, my treacherous muscles began to ease, surrendering to him.
I wanted him, and there was no denying he wanted me too. Not in this position. And I didn’t want a one-night stand either. I had sworn off men, especially men at Christmas time, but this man had weaseled into my heart without even trying.
We would never work, though. I was going back to Los Angeles and he lived here. Besides, he likely wanted to be with someone of his caliber. Someone who moved in wealthy, powerful circles instead of the Poipu Preschool. The most I could be to him was fun with the nanny.
I was oil; he was acrylic, and we could never mix on the same canvas.
“I-I—” He swallowed hard.
His serious tone made me nervous. I didn’t want him to tell me this was a mistake, that I was a mistake. I wondered if he was thinking of Bridget, that we were a bad idea. It certainly was unprofessional.
I had to listen to that warning in my head and not my heart or my body. I had to do something because as much as I wanted this kiss, in the end, I would be the one left heartbroken.
My hand already coated with paint, I patted his face with a wet squelch. The tension shattered.
Lee widened his eyes and opened his mouth in surprise. Then he poked my sides, tickling me as he smothered his cheek wherever it could touch me.
“Lee.” I curled into myself, unable to stop laughing and he did the same.
We laughed for a good minute until the door opened.
“What’s going on?” said a sweet, sleepy voice.
I sat up to see Bridget rubbing her eyes, holding a stuffed unicorn.
“Papa? Kate?” She giggled, pointing at us.
“Bridget, I can explain.” Lee stood and almost fell on his knees when his foot slipped, but he caught himself.
Bridget laughed harder and so did I.
Lee continued, “I spilled paint and we fell. So you have to be very careful, too.”
Lee was trying to make our mess into a learning lesson, but it wasn’t working. Bridget couldn’t stop laughing, turning her eyes on me, to Lee, and then sweeping over the floor. Her mouth dropped open with a small gasp.
The tile was layered with colors and our clothes were a gaudy acrylic patchwork. We’d made a mess that was going to take forever to clean up.
“Bridget, go to your room,” Lee’s said with a stern tone. “I’ll stop by to tuck you in after I help Kate clean up.”
“Okay,” Bridget sang and left.
Lee took off his shirt and looked at me.
I narrowed my eyes, heat fizzing through my blood as I tried not to stare at his toned, smooth chest. Tried not to remember my first day here, when I had touched those warm, sculpted muscles. The familiar warmth tingled, so I shifted my gaze to his hands.
I didn’t know if he was trying to imply we should get naked, but I didn’t think he would be that bold. He had been a perfect gentleman thus far. Well, until he’d smeared paint on me.
“I’m not taking off my shirt. You’re not expecting—”
He blushed. “I didn’t ask you to, Kate. I’m going to turn around. Take them off and go wash up. I’ll start cleaning up the mess.”
Lee turned his back to me, facing the standing easels, patiently waiting. Taking clothes off that were stuck with wet paint on them was harder than taking off wet jeans. Finally, my shirt and pants thudded behind him.
“I’m done, but give me a second.”
“Kate?” Lee’s voice went from playful to tender.
“Yes?”
“There’s a charity event tomorrow night. We raise money for cancer research. I thought you might want to go. I mean, would you like to go?”
Was he asking me on a date?
I glanced at the panting Roselyn had painted of Bridget when she was about two years, and said, “Yes. Thank you for asking me, but what about Bridget?”
He craned his neck to the side. “I could hire someone.”
I contemplated what he said, but I had an idea. “No, you don’t need to. Abby can watch her. Bridget would love that, and so would Tyler.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up at six.” He paused and added, “It’ll be easier. That way I can drop off Bridget.”