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If he wanted to be rid of me, Graff could leave me here, but I knew he wouldn’t. He wasn’t an ass.
“We didn’t have to get back to the clubhouse right away,” said Graff with a shrug. “I thought you might want to see more of the city that will be your home.”
“LA?” I asked.
He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. Highlights the color of honey caught the rays of the sun, and he looked sideways at me with a warm smile. “You been somewhere else in the last few days?”
“Well, no. But I didn’t expect an officer in the MC to bring me here.”
“It’s not a sanctioned field trip,” he said.
“So.” I lifted my brows. “It’s a date?”
Graff’s friendly smile faltered. He blinked and his jaw worked wordlessly.
“Or you’re going against their orders?” I teased.
When his lips pinched together, I thought maybe I should backpedal or apologize. But I didn’t truly regret the words, so I left them hanging out there in space.
“Maybe we should go back,” he said, reaching for the handlebars.
“No. I, um. I don’t want to go back. I’m not ready.” I stepped back on the lawn. I hoped my voice was inviting as I added, “Show me what this is all about?”
He hesitated, but now that he’d brought me here, he would have to chase me down to get me back on the bike right now. A day in the wide open would do me some good.
“Come on,” I said, taking back another step, coaxing him by curling a finger. “Let’s go.”
Thankfully, Graff dismounted from his enormous bike.
I waited for him to join me, because I wanted him to give me a tour. Hell, I needed him to explain this art to me. He moved toward a futuristic-looking sculpture. This was nothing like the classic art my father had taken me to see, so different from the sculptures in Florence or Rome. None of these outlandish pieces resembled the tedium of Michaelangelo, Donatello, or Ghiberti.
Those had all been strangely entrancing but watching him study the work was something altogether different. Better.
He moved to the side and said, “Come here.”
All too easily, I obeyed and moved toward him. When I reached his side, he turned me to face the sculpture and pointed over my shoulder, guiding my gaze.
“See the red on the tips of each piece?”
I squinted, but indeed, there were small splashes of deep red on the pieces fluttering in the breeze. The silver generally overpowered the darker color, so it fascinated me that he picked out the thing that most people wouldn’t notice.
“The metal reflects the sun, but those spots absorb it.”
“Yeah,” I said on a breath. “I see. Like people are drawn to the light while the darkness hides right there beside it.”
“And then see the black spikes on the arc there?”
Again, I followed his instruction and noticed how they made the light seem to pool around them. “They make the metal around them look like a droplet hitting water.”
“Exactly.” He wrapped his arms around my waist and just stared. “And people notice the rings without seeing what’s at the core.”
I shivered. “You’re really good at this art stuff.”
He shrugged. “That piece gives off different vibes at every hour of the day. It’s fascinating.”
“Do you have work here?”
Graff chuckled and shook his head. “I’m no sculptor.”
