AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He nods to the kiln almost completely buried under discarded heaps of clay and half-finished pieces. “Clean up the kiln area so I can fire these later.”
“Okay—yes, sir.” I hop to it, ignoring his eye roll. “I, um, I just love your glazing technique, by the way.”
I don’t mention that I hope he’ll show me how he does it once the pieces come out of the kiln, not that he offers. In fact, he doesn’t utter a single word to me for the next half hour. It’s dead quiet except for the sound of his hands working the clay and me moving stuff around.
As I move around, organizing the space, I keep having to maneuver around the massive piece covered by a tarp in the center of the room. Finally, I get up the nerve to ask what’s under the tarp, moving a corner of it aside to put some of his tools on the workbench behind it.
“None of your business. Leave it,” he snarls.
I scowl at him, though it’s not like he’s paying any attention to me. I keep staring at him for several moments. I’m not sure what’s got me more mesmerized, the focused look on face as he shapes the piece, or the way his fingers move as they work.
“I saved up my birthday and Christmas money to get one of your willow tree pieces,” I suddenly say, feeling my face burn at the fangirl admission. Still, I want him to know how important his work is to me. “I love it.”
This time, when he rolls his eyes, my feelings are a little stung.
“I prefer to work in silence,” he says pointedly. “Or at least, quiet.”
After that, I go back to my assigned task. I admit that I’m clattering things around a bit more than necessary. Pierce may be gorgeous, yes. Talented, of course. But he’s also turning out to be a total ass. What a disappointment.
For the next few hours, I set about organizing the studio the best that I can. Everything is dusty, and with the windows shuddered, there’s almost no natural light. It’s a pity because the windows are huge, and I imagine they’d bathe the space in sunlight if left open. But apparently, Pierce prefers to work by the bright lamp on his workbench, which takes up a whole wall in the studio. I realize as I look around that Pierce must have remodeled the original floor plan of the cottage. From the outside, it had looked like a quaint, two-story structure. But on the inside, it’s actually a single story that has been opened up into one large room, with just a bathroom and a small kitchenette in one corner.
I suppose Pierce had to open up the interior of the cabin to accommodate his larger sculptures. I know that some of his more famous works are well over ten feet tall. They can be taken apart to be moved and reassembled on sight, but while working on them, he would have needed a studio space big enough to assemble them. The interior of this cottage certainly meets those needs. I wonder if he’ll be working on anything like that this summ—
Pierce’s voice cuts into my musings. “If you’re done for the day, you can go home. I’m not paying you to gawk.”
I spin around and look at him, before checking the time. I’ve been here for close to five hours already, and I’ve made good progress on organizing his space. Even so, I’m dying for some fresh air and sunlight.
“I guess this is as good a place as any to stop for the day. Same time tomorrow?” I respond.
Pierce grunts. “If you must.”
I choose to ignore his surly attitude and head for the door, determined not to let him ruin my excitement. He might not realize it, but I’ve already learned a few things just by sneaking peeks at him while he worked.
Chapter 4
Pierce
I can’t say I’ve hated having my intern around. Every day for the past week and a half, she’s gotten here in the morning, just for me to direct her to clean up my studio. She does it without question, putting up with my surly demeanor like a saint, and she seems to know exactly where everything goes.
At first, it made me nervous to have her around. I snapped at her constantly for watching me. It was disarming to have those wide, pretty eyes straying to me as I worked, until I realized that I craved her glances. Now, the girl is nothing but a distraction for me. I don’t need a new distraction, especially not with that unfinished piece still plaguing me. She walks around in those ratty, clay-stained work jeans of hers, the ones that hug her ass like they were made specifically for her, as she does her daily cleaning tasks, and it’s distracting as hell. It takes everything I have to keep myself from taking her in my arms, bending her over my work bench, and fucking her until she screams my name.
And now she’s started staying after her work shift, watching me closely as she picks at the rips in her jeans. The feeling of her eyes on me makes my skin itch, begging to be touched. It’s clear she wants to learn, and I can’t help admiring that part of her as well.
Today, I decide it’s time to change things up. After I finish a small piece, I notice that she’s staring intently at the little rabbit I’ve made. I watch her face lights up as she takes in every small detail. She sighs and smiles.
“It’s stunning,” she breathes. Every muscle in my body tightens at the praise. Why does this feel so right coming from her, when I know that anyone else saying it will feel hollow?
I shake away the feeling as I haul another block of clay up. Suddenly, I point to the stool next to me, and tell her to sit. This feels like it’s a bad idea, but after seeing the way she took in that little sculpture’s details, I want to know what she’s capable of as an artist.
“Let’s see what you can do, kiddo,” I grumble as I break off a piece of clay from the block and hand it to her.
She puts the clay down on my workbench, and studies it for a moment. Instead of looking at the clay eagerly, however, she frowns. “You know my name is Wren, right? I’m nineteen.”
“Jesus,” I mutter under my breath. The sound of her name makes my heart go still. It’s perfect for her, from the way she flits around my studio to the soft brown the hair she’s always brushing out of her eyes. “I actually didn’t know your name, but that’s probably because I don’t read emails. It’s a good name, Wren.”
She bites her lip and glances at me, something strange glinting in her eyes, before turning back to the workbench. Maybe I should feel like more of an asshole for not knowing her name, but I’m willing to pin most of that on my assistant at this point.
