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“Definitely hazard pay. It’s good of you to look after them for her.” He poured her some more of the fizzy orange juice, noting with satisfaction that she’d drunk it all. It might not be as good as actually eating something, but it was something.
“You do for family,” she murmured. “Besides, it’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.”
He frowned at the self-deprecation in her voice.
“You have your painting,” he pointed out.
She let out a delicate snort, a noise he’d never imagined would come from her. “That’s not important. Thea is helping Jardin with his work, that has far more importance than spreading paint on a canvas.”
“Hey, that’s not true.” Reaching out slowly, he placed his hand on hers. She jolted but didn’t pull away. Satisfaction filled him. Maybe she needed touch. He wondered if anyone hugged her when she was down or upset, or if her brothers offered comfort when she was scared or unsure.
“If it’s something special to you, then it has importance.”
“Jardin is a lawyer. You can’t compare the two things.”
“People need lawyers. But people also need art. What do you think the world would be like without music? Could you imagine it? When I’m feeling down, I pick up my guitar and play, it instantly makes me feel better.”
She tilted her head to the side and studied him. He kept his hand on hers. Yeah, getting her used to his touch was definitely one of his main goals.
Touch and trust.
“I can’t imagine you feeling down.”
“Everyone feels down at some stage, Lottie.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
“And there are people who need art to lift them up. To make them smile. What you do has importance. Just in a different way from your brother.”
“But I don’t share my art.”
“Perhaps you should.” He rubbed his thumb over hers. Felt her shudder. But still, she didn’t push him away.
Fuck. He was good at this wooing shit.
“Maybe it’s crap.”
“Could be,” he agreed. “But then, so is half the stuff I’ve seen in art galleries.”
Her lips twitched. “You go to art galleries?”
“Hey, are you implying I’m not cultured?”
“Of course not. My apologies.”
“Accepted. At least I have better taste than the step-monster. Do you remember that ugly ass painting she has of herself in the living room?”
“Oh, man, I forgot about that.” Lottie grinned. “It was awful. It made her seem like she was looking down on all of us.”
“That was the point.”
“Wait, you call her a step-monster?”
“You met her. You don’t think it’s appropriate?”
“She was, um, a little difficult.”
He snorted. “Difficult? That’s a very diplomatic way to put it. She’s a complete bitch.”
