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He shook his head. “I know I promised, but I… I haven’t seen myself like this before.” His brows creased and he traced his jawline with his finger. “I don’t know how you did it, but you captured a side of me that is almost… soft.” His eyes flitted up to meet hers. “How did you do that?”
She exhaled through pursed lips. “It wasn’t hard. You don’t have to be so closed off all the time and, well, I guess I was able to see that side of you because I’ve gotten to know you a lot more since we started working together.” She inched closer to him and the picture, admiring her own handiwork.
Mike’s expression shifted from an almost awe-like one to being closed off faster than a bird taking flight. He flipped the paper over the picture and pushed it back toward Rose.
“It’s a great sketch, I guess. But I don’t want anyone to see it. I don’t think it’s ready for the world yet.”
His words were a punch to the gut. This whole time, Mike had been pushing her to realize her potential in her art. He’d been giving her a reason to hope again. A small part of her had come to accept that she might just have the talent needed to get back on the proverbial horse.
And now?
Mike didn’t think her work was good enough to show it off. At least, that was how it felt. His rejection of her picture felt more like a rejection of herself. This sketch was something she was actually proud of. What did it say about her that she couldn’t judge whether her work was good enough to showcase?
Her stomach roiled at the thought of that meeting she’d had with the owner of the Overlook Lodge. Was it possible that he was only being nice to her? Just because he’d offered to have her art in his place of business didn’t mean a dang thing.
There was a reason some works of art were considered hotel art—and that was because some people weren’t cut out for the art world. Rose’s shoulders slumped. She bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep herself from feeling the humiliation and disappointment that came from Mike’s dismissal.
She got to her feet quickly, knocking the notebook from her lap and to the floor. Mike jumped but didn’t comment on her sudden movements. Flustered, Rose grabbed her jacket and inched toward the door.
“I should probably get going. I have to start looking for another job. I doubt the restaurant will take me back, and now that this project is almost done, it’d be a good idea for me to get started on the hunt.”
Mike opened his mouth, but she turned from him and charged toward the door. She didn’t want to hear what he had to say. There was too much he could say to make her stay and she didn’t think she could handle it right now.
All this time wasted. Working at the ranch with Mike by her side felt like a useless venture. She’d only agreed to do it because she didn’t want to see this place wind up in the hands of someone who wouldn’t appreciate it.
Well, there was one good thing about Mike working so hard on this place—at least he wasn’t going to sell it to someone who would develop it. He had a good head on his shoulders. She could see him taking over this place and doing the work to keep it going.
One win. Did it make her time here worth it? The jury was still out on that one.
She climbed in her car and drove home, not realizing that she’d left behind all the art supplies that he’d offered her until she shut off the engine. Ethan had let her borrow the truck, and it was a good thing, too, because she hadn’t needed Mike to drive her home.
She only wished she’d had the foresight to gather up all the supplies he had offered.
Actually, that was a dumb thought.
After Mike told her she wasn’t doing a good enough job on his portrait, she had to accept that art wasn’t something she was cut out to do. Mike was wrong. She was wrong. The only people who knew about her interests and who had been right were her mother and Ethan.
Rose growled, dragging her hands down her face as she did so. She’d been a fool to let Mike manipulate her that way. What was she thinking? She should have never agreed to his request to draw him.
She sat in the dark truck, wishing she could turn back time, when a loud banging on the window drew her from her moping. Ethan tugged on the door but when he realized it was locked, he gestured toward the window.
Rose unlocked the door and pushed it open only to have her brother frantically demand that she move over to the passenger side.
“A storm is coming. We have to get over to our cousins’ ranch, and right now.”
Rose glanced through the glass of the front window, seeing little in the way of a darkened sky. “But?—”
“Move over, Rose. We have to leave. There are cattle in the fields and lightning is coming. They’re not going to be in good spirits if we don’t bring them in off the hill.”
“I’m sure there are plenty of people who can help. Wouldn’t it be better if we stay put? We shouldn’t be driving?—”
“If you want to stay, then stay. Mom’s gonna stay. But I have to get out there, and I’m not going to sit here and argue with you. Move over or get out.”
“Fine! I’m moving!” Rose scooted to the other side of the truck and stared out at the sky again. “Are you sure there’s a storm—” Her voice died in her throat as a flash of lightning bolted across the sky. “Whoa,” she muttered. “Did you see that?”
Ethan started the truck and turned it around to head down the road she’d just come up on her way home. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye but didn’t say anything. If there was one thing she knew about her brother, it was that he was smart. Only a dumb man would have asked her how her conversation with Mike had gone. Ethan was the only one who knew of Rose’s suspicions. Or rather, they were the only two who were wondering if Mike had reverted to his old ways.
Her brother fidgeted behind the wheel, tapping his fingers as he drove.
