Faked (Ward Family #2)(14)

He was the kind of man who was hard to gauge how old he was. His face was gently lined, like he laughed a lot, and his brown hair was streaked liberally with gray. But he was tall with broad shoulders, a strong nose, and a wide smile.

"What do you like about it?" I asked him.

He grimaced, staring again at the image. "Not much. It makes me uncomfortable."

That made me give his face a second look, a longer, assessing one. "Strong reactions aren't bad, though. The point of good artwork is to make you feel something."

The smile he gave me was lopsided. "Fair enough. What do you feel when you look at it then?"

Staring at the little boy's face, I answered without thinking. "The role of perceived maternal favoritism in sibling relationships in midlife," I answered without thinking. I felt my cheeks flush hot when he gave me a curious look. "Sorry, that was terribly specific."

His gaze sharpened. "And I'm terribly interested in why."

For the first time since Lia handed me that yellow dress, I felt like myself. My ribs expanded easily as my heart settled into a normal rhythm.

"It's a, a study that I read recently for school," I told him.

He nodded, a gentle nudge to continue.

There was no expectation to be someone else or talk like someone else. Just a genuine interest in what I had to say, and that made the words come easily.

"There's something very lonely about him," I said. "There are people—other kids—right behind him, yet he's separate. That ball, his shoes, he's obviously very active. Loves sports. But he's sitting in stillness for some reason. It makes me wonder what his family life is like. How he's loved, if he feels separate when he goes back in that house too. Or if being outside," I paused, and Bauer's face flashed in front of me, "if finding something he's good at, something physical and tangible and independent, gives him the affirmations he's craving."

In the silence that followed, I felt a slow flush of embarrassment crawl up my skin. I might as well scream Beware of Psych Major for everyone in the hallway to hear. When I grimaced, he stepped closer to the photo, assessing it carefully.

"No wonder you looked like you were about to burst into tears," he mused.

Under my breath, I laughed and felt my embarrassment wash away. "I can't help it, unfortunately. I'm about to start my master's in developmental psychology."

"Ahh." He grinned and looked younger when he did. "An art connoisseur masquerading as a therapist. You'll be able to fix the world with that brain, young lady."

I ducked my head, unsure what to say.

"No, no, don't be embarrassed. It's a wonderful thing, that you can look at that child and see all of that." He sighed. "He probably makes me uncomfortable because he reminds me of myself as a young boy."

His face was distant now, not seeing me or the photo, and I watched him carefully in silence. A few people milled around us, but no one interrupted.

"Maybe if I'd had someone like you helping me understand those sorts of things when I was younger, I wouldn't be so damn stubborn now."

"Stubborn isn't a bad thing," I said. "Determination is a wonderful trait, especially if you've found success."

"Everyone in this overpriced room has found success, haven't they?" he asked dryly.

"I suppose."

He blinked. "My manners, where have they gone." He turned, his hand held out in my direction. "Richard."

I opened my mouth, then paused just before I formed my own name. I swallowed heavily. "Lia Ward."

Richard smiled. "It's been a genuine pleasure to meet you, young lady."

Another voice joined us, just as his big hand slid around my waist, settling easily on the bare skin where my dress gaped open.

"There you are," Bauer said. He grinned widely when I slowly lifted an eyebrow. "Thought you got lost."

Richard moved his eyes between us. "It's my fault entirely. I've been monopolizing her. She's quite intriguing."

Bauer's eyes touched briefly on my lips when he answered. "That's one word I'd use."

I felt my mouth open slightly. What was he doing? Lia had barely mentioned Bauer, except in passing, and always negatively, and he was staring at her lips—my lips—like he wanted to devour them in one bite.

"Bauer ‘the Hawk’ Davis," Richard said, snapping his fingers together. "I knew I recognized you."

Bauer's face lit in surprise at his performance name. "Not many people do."

"Shame what happened with Burton."

The man currently holding my waist tensed slightly but nodded. "Indeed."

"They'll regret it someday, I have a feeling."

Bauer's eyes sharpened. "Not many people are this well-informed on the snowboarding scene."

"I have a place in Vancouver, so I'm your neighbor to the south." Richard held out his hand. "If you don't make the next Olympics, I'll riot."

Hand still firmly in place along my back, Bauer smiled. I blinked at the sight of it. It was wide and bright and happy. This was the real him, talking about something he loved.

"Thank you." He tilted his head. "I didn't catch your name."