Page 46 of Not Just Gal Pals

“Details!” George waved her hand dismissively. “But on a serious note, I’m glad you’re letting her help you.”

I studied George’s face. I’d never spoken to George about it, but she’d clearly picked up that I didn’t usually feel comfortable with people helping me. I was the one who helped others, not vice versa. I didn’t want to owe someone a favor or surrender my control or independence to someone else. I’d been like that my entire life, but it had gotten significantly worse since Grace. Since I discovered just how devastating it could be when someone let you down.

But with Jenny, it was different. She wasn’t doing it for me. She was doing it for Sapphire Springs. And I couldn’t imagine her expecting anything in return. Although, I wouldn't mind if she did, because I liked helping her too.

“So, do you have another date arranged with her?”

“We talked about doing something tomorrow night, but we haven’t arranged anything yet. I’m thinking maybe a drink at Frankie’s or dinner at Builders Arms might be the safest bet.”

“You don’t want to invite her over and cook for her?” George’s mouth twitched, and I had a sneaking suspicion she was teasing me.

“Umm, I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’ve tasted my cooking.” I’d lost interest in cooking since Grace. It was difficult to motivate myself to cook anything particularly creative or interesting when I was the only person who would enjoy it. My specialty was bland and healthy. Chicken breast with steamed vegetables, omelet with salad, salmon with salad. Not exactly dinner-party-worthy dishes. The lack of practice cooking anything remotely challenging had undermined my confidence and any skills I did have.

“I could send you the recipe for the duck ragu I made you last year. It tastes fancy but it’s surprisingly easy.”

My mouth watered at the memory of George’s rich duck ragu, which she’d served with handmade pasta.

“That’s what you said last time you sent me the recipe for that beef Wellington I cooked for Dad’s birthday, which was an absolute disaster. But at least he unconditionally loves me. Jenny on the other hand…” My voice trailed off. “Anyway, I think I need to slow things down. While the ship may have already sailed on getting attached to her, I do have some control over how attached I get, and sleeping together always makes me more involved. I know it’s not usual “fling” behavior, but I want to spend a bit more time with her to make sure things feel right first. So, I think I should avoid inviting her over to my house for now, with easy access to my couch…and bed...and all that privacy.” My desire for self-protection was kicking in. If Jenny’s parents hadn’t come home, I was confident one thing would have led to another.

“Do you want me to be your chaperone? I could sit directly behind you at the bar or pub, staring at you two like a creep while I munch on popcorn or perhaps really loud chips?” George mimed pulling popcorn out of a large bucket and chewing vigorously, her eyes wide open.

I laughed. “No, thanks. I think I’ll pass.”

“Actually, if it’s tomorrow night, I can’t chaperone anyway because we’re holding our first paint-and-sip event here.”

“That’s tomorrow night?” I asked. I’d been planning to go, but I hadn’t realized it was so soon. “You know, that would be the perfect date. You’ll essentially be chaperoning, just without the popcorn-slash-chip eating and creepy-eyes part. And we’ll be in public, so we won’t be able to get too carried away.”

“Look, I don’t want to lose any customers, but paint and sip seems like more of a date-date activity than a casual-fling activity…” George looked at me skeptically. “But I’m probably not the best person to take dating advice from.”

George had been single as long as I’d known her and was decidedly vague about her relationship history. I figured if she wanted to tell me about them, she would, so I hadn’t pried, but I had to admit I was a little curious.

“I think it’s perfect. I’ll text her now.” I pulled out my phone and shot off a text to Jenny before turning back to George.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

JENNY

“I’m hoping this wine gets my artistic juices flowing. I haven’t painted anything since high school, and I got a D in art.” I looked at Blake, who was sitting next to me in a matching apron over her black jeans and red flannel shirt, swiping through photos on her phone. She looked up at me, her face breaking into a smile, and my heart skipped.

God, she’s hot.

“Thankfully, no one is getting graded tonight, which is probably for the best, given they’ve already polished off one bottle of wine and haven’t started painting yet.” Blake nodded over at three women in their forties who were laughing so hard they almost drowned out the background music.

I chuckled. When Blake had suggested paint and sip for our date, I’d been slightly disappointed. I’d been hoping she’d invite me over to her place, and we could pick up where we’d left off on Saturday—without unwelcome interruptions from parents or dogs. But now we were here, I was glad we’d come out. And unlike some of the people I’d dated in LA, it was nice to know she didn’t want to keep our relationship quiet, even if it wasn’t serious. I’d still optimistically cut my fingernails this afternoon, hoping the night might end at Blake’s.

“It looks like we’re starting,” Blake said, interrupting my train of thought.

The theme of the night was “Paint Your Pet.” For those who didn’t have pets but still wanted to participate, George had put a blown-up photo of her golden retriever, Maximus, on an easel at the front of the room. Maximus was also snoozing in a corner, in case anyone wanted to do some life-painting. My phone was propped up on the table next to my easel, displaying a particularly cute photo of Walter with his pink tongue poking out.

“Now, everyone, I recommend you first sketch out your pet to get the composition right before you start painting. I’ll show you how I’d sketch out Maximus. Just yell out if you need any help.” The art instructor, a woman in a long, flowing rainbow dress with long, wavy, pink hair to match, picked up a pencil and began outlining Maximus.

“Here goes.” I picked up my pencil and spent the next few minutes deep in concentration as I tried, unsuccessfully, to capture Walter’s essence.

I glanced over to Blake, who was already finished. My jaw dropped when I saw her sketch of her cat. “Wow! That’s really good.” Of course Blake was good at art too. Previously, I would have felt a twinge of jealousy at Blake’s talent, but now I just felt...proud? These new feelings were strange but definitely not unwelcome.

“Okay, everyone! Now, we’re going to start painting. Everyone come up and get the paint you need for your background.” The instructor gestured at a table near the front, which had a row of paints in large pump bottles.

“Shit! I still haven’t gotten Walter sketched properly. I’m really struggling with the proportions. Help!”