If I Didn't Know Better (The Callaways #9)(21)


"All over the place. There are a lot of battles going on in the world right now, but let's get back to art. Did you like working in a museum? The few I've been to seem too quiet and too pretentious. I guess I'm just not a museum kind of guy. I know I should appreciate art, but I can't understand why swirls of paint command hushed reverence when they look like nothing but a mess to me."

"You must have been looking at abstract art. The swirls of paint represent the artist's vision of the world."

"Twisted and colorful?"

"You're being too literal. The Russian artist Wassily Kandisky believed that colors provoke emotions. Red is confidence, green is peaceful, blue is deep and sometimes supernatural, yellow is warm and white is silence. He even assigned instruments to go with the colors. Red is a trumpet and light blue is a flute."

"I think I'm just too practical for art. I deal with what's real in front of me, not what someone wants me to imagine."

"I understand, but I like to be open to possibilities, to be transported through art to another time or place or level of realization." She laughed at his bemused expression. "It's fine. You don't have to like art. A lot of people don't get it."

"But you do."

"Well, I don't love everything. I have certain periods and styles that I enjoy more than others, but I have an appreciation for the artist, for their ability to create something out of nothing. I respect their dedication and the way they put their heart and soul on the line when they put their art up for public consumption. It's a brave moment, and I like bravery, even when it's very, very small." She paused. "I feel kind of silly talking about bravery to you. What I'm discussing is nothing like the kind of courage required to go into war. I don't want you to think—"

"I don't," he said, cutting her off. "I know the difference. One of the reasons I fight is to protect the freedom of people to create art, speak their mind, and live their lives the way they want to."

She stared back at him, feeling herself moved by his words, by the passion in his voice, by the perfect male beauty of his strong face and clear eyes and extraordinary mouth. Her body tingled with feminine appreciation and suddenly she couldn't remember what they were talking about. She just knew that she wanted to keep on looking at him, keep on talking to him. He was quite simply the most fascinating man she'd met in a very long time. He was very different from the men in her usual circle and she liked that even more. She had a feeling he liked her, too, and that was a little scary. She'd come to Angel's Bay to get over a mistake with a man. She didn't need to make another one.

Clearing her throat, she took the conversation back to a lighter level. "So if you aren't a museum kind of guy, what kind of guy are you?"

"I like to play sports: baseball, football, basketball, soccer, golf, occasionally tennis."

"That's a lot of sports."

"I like to compete, challenge myself. I don't know what I'll be up to playing in the future though, maybe miniature golf."

"I have a feeling you'll conquer your weakness."

"We'll see. What about you, Mia? What do you do besides art?"

"Well, I don't do sports. At least, not if I can help it."

"Never? Not even when you were a kid?"

"I couldn't when I was really young. My sister and I were born premature. And while she didn't have any health issues, I had respiratory problems for a long time. I got pneumonia when I was seven, and I almost died. After that, my mom tried to put me in a bubble. It took years for her to realize that I had fully recovered and my health had improved."

"I'm glad to hear you're okay now."

"I'm perfect. But during all those years in the bubble, I did a lot of reading and painting and schoolwork. It was much easier to excel in art history than to throw a basketball into a hoop."

"You're a little short for basketball anyway."

"True." She didn't know why she'd told him about her health issues. It wasn't something she'd spoken about in a long time, but there was something about Jeremy that made her want to lower her protective barriers. "So now you know about my weakness."

"I've seen no evidence of weakness in you, Mia. Impulsiveness, maybe."

"You're not going to let me forget about climbing up to the roof, are you?"

"Not any time soon." His smile made her stomach do a somersault. The connection between them was ridiculously strong, but their relationship was so undefined. They weren't dating. They were sort of friends, but not really. But there was an honesty between them that she hadn't had with any other man.

Unfortunately, Jeremy's mood abruptly changed when the café door opened and a man walked in.

He was older, fifties she thought, with gray hair, a weathered, lined face and a scruffy beard. He had a solid, broad build and wore jeans and a long-sleeved shirt that displayed the logo for Buddy's Bait and Tackle.

He paused inside the door, his gaze sweeping the restaurant. He saw his friends and started forward, and then froze when he saw Jeremy.

His face paled as his dark eyes moved on to Ashlyn.

Jeremy drew in a sharp breath.

"Who's that?" Mia asked.

Before Jeremy could reply, the man walked over to their table.

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