AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Should I?" he asked. "I suppose I could try to knit hats for the homeless."
"What about a hat for yourself? You'd look cute in a hot pink beanie." He'd look adorable in that and nothing else. Okay, maybe adorable wasn't the right word.
Now I knew his head wasn't as far up his ass as I thought, I was starting to like him. For a billionaire, he seemed like a good guy.
"If I knitted a beanie, it wouldn't be good enough for anyone to wear," he said. "Besides, you'd look better in pink than I would."
I pulled the car up in front of a small building on the edge of town and turned off the engine. "We're here."
"Where is here?" He squinted out the window.
"Come on, I'll show you." I pushed the door open and slipped out into the warm, spring afternoon. When he looked hesitant, I grabbed his hand and pulled him inside.
"Painting?" He looked at the easels set up around the room with a combination of disbelief and anxiety. For a moment, I thought he might run back out the door and insist on being driven home.
"Yes, but there's absolutely no pressure to be any good at it," I said. "I'm not. It's just good, relaxing fun. Trust me."
He sighed heavily. "Fine, as long as it doesn't involve any tequila."
I laughed. "Definitely no tequila. Just canvas, paint and brushes." I looked his expensive suit up and down. "And a smock."
He slipped off his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. He pulled his chunky silver and black watch off his wrist and slipped it into a pocket before taking the smock I handed him and pushing his arms into the sleeves.
"I feel like I'm in preschool again." He glanced down at himself. "If only the board could see me now."
"I could take a photo if you like?" I offered.
"Absolutely not," he said firmly. "This stays between us. I have a reputation to uphold."
"Wouldn't want to do anything to ruin your grumpy businessman persona," I said.
"I've worked hard building it for all these years," he said. "One little photo of me like this could ruin that forever." His eyes twinkled.
My heart did a funny thing in my chest that felt like it was skipping or maybe dancing. I reminded myself that this was professional, but I was finding it more and more difficult to keep myself from liking him.
I put on my own smock and sat on a stool, my canvas in front of me, but angled so I could see him at the same time.
He slipped onto his own stool and placed his palms on his thighs. "Okay, what do we do?"
"Whatever you want to do," I replied. "Pick up a brush and do what comes naturally."
He gave me a long look that suggested what he wanted to do didn't involve paint. At least, not a canvas. Judging by the way the front of his pants tented, it didn't involve clothes either.
"There's a bowl of apples over there." I jerked my head toward a table on the side of the room, while my face heated. "You could try to paint those. Or something abstract."
"I'm going to paint you," he said softly. "I mean, on my canvas." The tips of his ears were adorably pink. "I can do a mean stick figure." He picked up a brush, dipped it in the black paint and started to dab at his canvas.
"I'll paint you then," I said. I waited until he glanced up before dipping my brush in bright blue paint and getting to work.
His eyebrows rose before he deliberately switched to bright pink.
Taking that as a challenge, I wiped off my brush and chose a loud shade of yellow.
He frowned briefly before deciding on orange as his next colour.
"I can't wait to see what you're doing over there," I said.
"You have to wait until I'm done," he said. "If I can be patient, so can you."
