No Love Allowed(12)

Six


BY FRIDAY OF the following week, Didi had done only three things: eat, sleep, and paint. Not necessarily in that order.

She started by painting his eyes, trying to find the right shade of blue to match how she remembered them. Van Gogh had a thing for blue too. So many shades, so little time. Eventually she moved on to the contours of his face, combining flesh tones like an alchemist in search of the perfect mixture when re-creating the angles and planes. His hair was the toughest part. She had to blend several types of brown, trying to translate onto canvas the right texture of softness she imagined she would have felt if she had given in to combing her fingers through it at the dock that afternoon.

As far as muses went, Caleb Parker was frustrating. She couldn’t quite pin him down, and she knew she wouldn’t see him again. They might both live in Dodge Cove, but they were galaxies apart.

She was in the final stages of her third attempt when the doorbell rang. With a jolt, she pulled her hand away. Good thing the brush hadn’t made contact with the canvas yet, or there would have been a yellow streak across his face.

The bell rang again.

Aside from the occasional pizza delivery, the button beside the front door was hardly ever used. Had her mom forgotten her key or something? Not likely.

When a third ring reverberated through the house, she plunged the brush into the jar of turpentine she kept close and grabbed a filthy rag.

Another ring.

“Coming!” she yelled, rubbing the rag over her fingers to get as much of the paint off as she could. Despite neglecting the cleaning, her mother wouldn’t appreciate paint on the doorknob. Which reminded her: must clean house.

As a final precaution, she rubbed her hand against her overalls. Once satisfied she wouldn’t leave any oily residue, she turned the lock. Only when the door was already halfway open did she remember her mother’s reminder of asking who it was first. Might be some rapist or home invader, she would always say.

As a safety precaution, Didi warned in her most threatening voice, “If you’re here to rape me or invade my home, I have the nine and the one already dialed!” Then she threw the door wide open. Her lips formed an O when she recognized the person standing on the other side. “You’re not a rapist or home invader.”

A sexy smile accompanied a raised eyebrow and the removal of aviator sunglasses that revealed those blue eyes she had been dreaming of all week. Damn. They were a darker shade than she had first thought. Or maybe it was because the light was different on her front porch.

“I certainly hope not,” he said in a mild tone that quickly shifted to serious. “What kind of neighborhood do you live in that you’d have to ask if you’re about to get raped or invaded before opening the door?”

“The kind guys like you don’t usually frequent.” She took him all in. Blue-striped button-down with sleeves rolled up to his elbows and tucked into mustard . . . “What are those pants called?”

He looked down. “Chinos?”

“I don’t know what those are but you pull them off.” She crossed her arms and bit the tip of her pinky, enjoying the sight of him. Must have been the confidence in his stance and the way his eyes didn’t waver when he returned her assessing gaze. No guys like him at the public school she went to. In fact, guys like him got punched in the face where she went. Well, maybe not Caleb. He looked like he could hold his own in a fight. She’d have to feel for herself to make sure, but from the way the clothes sat content on his frame, she could tell he sported a tight, lean body girls drooled over. Her mouth certainly watered. She wasn’t ashamed to admit it. No harm in appreciating God-given beauty. She was a painter; she should know.

“What are you wearing?” he asked.

“My painting clothes,” she answered, still admiring him. How could she convince him to pose for her without seeming creepy?

“You paint?”

His tone confused her. “You’re surprised?”

“Yes. It’s something I didn’t expect.”

“There are many unexpected things about me.”

“I’m starting to realize that.”

“Should I even ask how you found me?”

A sheepish grin lifted the corners of his lips. “I asked Tony at the country club.”

“Ah.” Direct. She liked that about him too. She dropped her arms in favor of tucking her paint-smeared hands into her pockets, hiding the rag as she did so. “Since you’re here you should know what my next question will be.”

The grin turned into a fuller smile, but no teeth. “I have a proposal for you.”

“A proposal?” Her eyebrow twitched. Any normal person would have slammed the door in his perfectly symmetrical face for being so weird. In her case, she found herself intrigued. Why not? It wasn’t like she had anything better to do that day besides painting and cleaning.

And job hunting, of course. But honestly, that wasn’t going so well. People just weren’t hiring. All the summer part-time gigs were taken already. Hence her being home.

“Can we talk inside?” he asked, pushing forward as if expecting her to give way.

She stood firm, barring him entrance. The house needed a general cleaning, and her paintings were drying in the living room. So, hell to the no. Hanging out inside for this proposal of his? Not gonna happen.