AllFreeNovel
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“You weren’t a big partier?”
“Not really. My parents were strict, but I also just wasn’t that interested. I spent most of my free time painting or sketching. I even had a brief and ill-fated flirtation with sculpture.”
“Ill-fated?”
“All my sculptures looked like piles of mud, and that’s the generous description.”
Patrick chuckled. “It’s hard to imagine you being bad at anything art-related.”
“Oh, I was. And plus, you have no way of knowing if I’m any good at art at all.”
“True. Because you’ve never shown me your paintings.”
“True.”
“Maybe we can fix that now.”
“I don’t think so. I don’t have anything with me.”
Patrick reached for the side table and produced a notepad and pencil. “You can sketch something.”
Emma shifted beside him.
“Those aren’t the best materials. And sketching isn’t my preferred medium.”
“If it makes you feel better, I’ll draw you something, too.”
“All right, all right.” Emma held out her hand for the pad of paper, and Patrick handed it over after he tore off a page for his own use. She shifted position, then bent over the sketchpad, a waterfall of her dark hair falling in front of her face. She looked lovely. If Patrick could actually draw, he knew he would draw her, in this moment, in the firelight and under the stars.
He knew he was a terrible artist, though, so instead he started sketching the only thing he could draw reasonably well. Every few moments he glanced up at Emma. After a minute or two, she tucked her lip between her teeth in concentration. The gesture was endearing in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on — maybe because this put-together, reserved woman was showing some vulnerability.
Patrick finished his drawing at least a few minutes before Emma, so he sat beside her in silence and watched her work. When she completed the drawing, she looked up and smiled.
“Okay. It isn’t my best work, but it’ll do for my impromptu portfolio.”
“Let’s see.”
Emma turned the pad of paper around and showed it to Patrick. He took it in for a long moment in silence. The sketch showed the scene in front of them now. There was the flickering fire, done in quick, broad pencil strokes. There was a smattering of pinprick stars above them, and there were Patrick and Emma themselves, sitting on a couch with a blanket over their legs. Their faces were vague, not quite visible, but Patrick knew who they were.
“This is beautiful, Emma.” He looked up and saw that she was blushing.
“Thanks. It isn’t my best work. With a little more time…”
“I think it’s great. Especially for only having a few minutes.”
“Thanks again. Now I want to see yours.”
“You really don’t.” Patrick shook his head. “After this, I’d be far too embarrassed.”
“Come on, I’m sure it’ll be lovely.”
“Fine, fine.” Patrick turned the page around and showed Emma his sketch of a lion, complete with the outline of a mane. It was lopsided, with one eye bigger than the other and a too-long tail, but Emma grinned.
“I love it. It’s a lion, right?”
“Right. Good eye.”
“And why a lion?”
