I’d screwed up.
I’d willingly put my income on the line to help Gil.
Am I stupid or sweet?
At this point, I was going to go with stupid.
“The department store.” Gil cocked his chin at the hulking retail shop where we’d placed his gear.
“Kohls?” I peered at the name of the store. It was hard not to miss with its large lime letters glowing against the dark grey façade.
K.O.H.L.S.
Each giant letter shouted at would-be shoppers to enter and spend. I had no idea how Gil would incorporate them into a painting—they loomed huge from the pavement like ships sailing through concrete.
“Yeah.” Gil continued doctoring his supplies. “They want an image they can use in their upcoming catalogues and billboards. Something recognisable to their brand but unique.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t like commercial stuff. Never have. I’d much rather do natural.”
“Natural?”
“You know...woodlands and beaches. A waterfall or two with humans all hidden with paint.”
I stiffened. “So...you like doing camouflage pieces?”
He hooked up the air gun hose to the gas bottle. “Yes. I find natural shadows and textures much more satisfying than manmade.”
Moving closer to him, so I didn’t have to speak too loudly, I murmured, “The girls who were murdered...the ones painted and left to starve while the police couldn’t see them.... Do you know who would—”
“Paint corpses?” Gil interrupted with an icy stare. “No, I can’t say I hang out with such creatures.”
“I’m just asking if you think whoever painted those girls is talented.”
“Talented?” He laughed morbidly. “Talented at killing, you mean?”
“No, talented at shading and disguising.”
His eyes narrowed with annoyance. “Sorry to disappoint you, Olin, but I didn’t exactly inspect them up close and personal.”
“True. Sorry.” I pulled back. “Stupid question.”
“Very stupid.” Turning his attention back to his paints, his hands trembled a little as he worked out the colour palette and placed bottles of his chosen pigment in a row.
Did he shake from hunger? We hadn’t had time for breakfast.
Did he shake from cold? The sun was out and warm.
Did he shake from nerves? Surely, he didn’t get performance anxiety. Not with skills like his.
Touching his forearm gently, I studied him. “You okay?”
He froze, his gaze locking on my fingertips resting on his bare arm. His T-shirt choice today already held streaks and spots of paint from other work. His jeans were just as paint-decorated, and his boots would be welcome on a building site if it weren’t for the orange and highlighter green mixing with dirt and grime.
Slowly, he moved away, dislodging my hold. “I’m fine.” Pulling a familiar packet of skin-toned lingerie from his pocket, he artfully switched the conversation from him to me. “Are you okay?”
I swallowed nervously as he passed me the packeted G-string. “God, do I have to stand on a busy street at ten in the morning in just a flesh-coloured G?”
“Not just a G-string. I’ll let you wear pasties today.” His lips twitched a little. “Least your nipples won’t be on display.”
“Oh, gee. That’s so generous of you.”
“I thought so.”
Pushing past me, he stalked to his car again and returned with a white robe. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“To get my canvas prepped.”
I trailed behind him as we entered the large department store. Men’s, women’s, and children’s merchandise were all on offer. Silver escalators led to more floors full of stuff. Toys, home-wares, and clothing. A treasure trove for the shopaholic, and a place I hadn’t had much reason to enter in a while with no disposable income.
A pretty caramel and cream skirt caught my attention as Gil stormed down the centre aisle, guiding me toward the women’s changing rooms.
“You seem to know your way around here.”
His eyes trailed over the racks and shoppers. “I’ve been in a couple of times.”
“You don’t seem the kind to frequent retail stores.”
“Yeah, well.” He massaged the back of his neck, wincing as a kid sprinted past, screaming with joy as he headed toward the toy section. Reluctance layered his voice as if he didn’t want to admit he’d had a love life before I’d inconveniently waltzed back into it. “Eh, I didn’t come in here for me.”
Ouch.
If that didn’t cure me of my stupid insanity, nothing would.
My heart relocated into my throat as another question poised on my tongue.
Don’t ask.
Do. Not. Ask.
“I, um, should probably have checked before this, but...eh, do you have a girlfriend, Gil?”
Every part of him locked into place. His face darkened; his eyes turned chilly. “Do you think I’d sleep with you if I did?” He leaned toward me. “I’m not a cheater, Olin.”
I fought the urge to stumble back. “Okay, just thought I’d check.” I waited for him to ask me the same question. Normally, that was how these things went. The desire to know if you’re both free to pursue whatever magic brewed.
However, Gil already admitted he didn’t want what was between us, and he most likely already knew how unlikely it would be for me to be romantically involved with another while he’d always owned my heart.
Justin danced on the edges of my thoughts.
Gil had watched me date him in high-school. He’d seen me overplay the act of happy, contented girlfriend all while my shattered heart remained in pieces. Back then, I’d hoped he’d confront me about it and demand for me to break up with Justin because I was always meant to be his.
But he never had.
He’d vanished instead.
And now, he’d insinuated at previous entanglements where he went shopping with lovers and spent time with them as a generous boyfriend, not this grumpy body painter who bruised me in the dark and couldn’t stand me in the light.
Sighing, I brushed past him and continued into the changing rooms alone.
Reaching a stall, I slipped inside and closed the door in Gil’s face.
He grunted something under his breath before tossing the robe over the top of the door. A packet of pasties flew to land by my feet. “Let me know if you need help with those.”
I didn’t reply.
Trying to push away the sudden ache in my chest, I stripped and ripped the skin-tone G from its packet before stepping into it. The mirror revealed my naked breasts and tiny scrap of lingerie between my legs.
It wasn’t exactly sexy attire, but shadows of Gil’s fingers still marked my hips and ass from last night’s dining table action. My body didn’t feel the same pain as my heart, and melted at the memories of being taken so roughly and thoroughly.
Jealousy burned like wildfire.
He’d been with others. Had he been that rough and thorough with them? Did he prefer them to me?
Stop it.
Stop torturing yourself.
Picking up the pasties from the floor, I opened the packet and prepared to stick something alien to my boobs. The double-sided tape wouldn’t unpeel. The circle was too hard to handle. My fingers weren’t dexterous enough to apply.