She laughed. “I don’t blame you there.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Really.” He picked up the box again, more calmly this time. “Now, how about we draw some apples?”
Chapter 13
Hunter continued shading the bottom of the blue-and-white ceramic bowl. He thought they would be drawing the apples today, but Britt focused on the bowl first. He’d had no idea how colors could be used for different effects, and most of them had to do with light or the absence of it. Ninety minutes had gone by, and he was still working on the bottom of the bowl.
Britt leaned over and inspected his progress. “That looks good.”
He couldn’t help but breathe in her scent—clean, a little flowery, but nothing overwhelming. Definitely alluring. He cast a side glance at her as she continued to evaluate his drawing, which wasn’t much of anything. As far as he could tell, she didn’t wear any makeup. And when she’d made a comment about not liking exercise, he noticed her insecurity about her figure. He thought her body was just right.
“We can stop now and finish up the bowl next week.” Her gaze moved up to his face.
He marveled at how different she looked when she was completely relaxed, like she was now. Even on her channel she didn’t have the same gleam in her eyes or the easy smile he was seeing in front of him. She seemed completely...comfortable.
“It’s up to you.” He wasn’t in any hurry to leave.
She paused and looked at her watch, then at the apples. “We should stop.”
“Okay.” He tried to hide his disappointment by poking the pencils back into the box. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to leave her, but he really was enjoying the lesson.
“You can take those with you if you want,” she said. “And you should snap a picture of the still life. You can practice during the week.”
“Yes, Ms. Branch.” He gave her a salute, and grinned when she smiled.
As he took the picture, she started neatly putting her pencils away. “Funny, I never thought anyone would ever call me Ms. Branch. That’s my mom. She’s a teacher.”
He stilled, his phone facing the apples. Ms. Branch? Didn’t he have a teacher named— Oh, wow. Ninth grade, remedial math. He’d only had her for a semester before he was suspended and sent off to another school. He didn’t even remember what he’d done to get into trouble. Had he been drunk? High? Probably both.
Familiar shame filled him as he looked at Britt, the urge to dull his feelings almost overwhelming. He hadn’t experienced that temptation for almost two years. Now he’d felt it twice in several days, the first being after he’d talked to his father. He’d reserved the tux and gone to work, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how he was separated from his family, and it was his own fault.
He’d been on edge ever since, enough that his coworkers and roommate noticed it. Sawyer had asked if he’d been drinking again, and Hunter truthfully denied it. But he had to admit to himself he’d been thinking about it. A lot.
He glanced at Britt, who was still focused on carefully sliding the pencils inside the box. Just being around her made him feel better. But the fact that he knew her mother was one of his teachers, and an eyewitness to the grand beginnings of his immature, self-destructive behavior, rattled his nerves. If Britt learned about thator anything else regarding his past, she wouldn’t just think he was a creep but a complete reprobate.
At one time, he was.
Britt closed the lid on the slim box and picked up the rest of the materials, including his drawing. “We’ll keep these here,” she said, adding her beautifully finished rendering of the apple bowl on top of the pile.
“Sure.” He watched her walk to the storage room, and when she went inside, his head fell into his hands. A gin and tonic would be good right now. Or just straight gin. He needed a distraction.
She came back into the room and he lifted his head, calm washing over him. She was just what he needed.Her hair with its wild bun and seventies-colored scarf wrapped around it gave her a bohemian flair, a contrast to the conservative checkered shorts and plain white shirt she was wearing. He had yet to see her hair completely down. She always wore it up in some fashion, including in her videos. He wondered exactly how long it was, how wild it was, how it would feel in his hands—
“Maude made us a snack.” She walked over to a little table with a teapot, cups, and a round cake holder on top. “It’s not chamomile or Kava, but Earl Grey is good too. Would you like some?”
Her words brought him out of his thoughts, and he ran his hands over his thighs. He didn’t needthatkind of distraction. If she knew he was attracted to her... game over. “Sounds great.” He popped up from the chair and went to stand beside her as she poured tea into the cups. “I can cut the cake if you’d like.”
She glanced at him. “Sure.”
They carried their tea and cake to the table and sat down. Hunter took a big bite, and orange sweetness exploded in his mouth. “This is incredible.”
“They always are.” Britt pressed her fork into her slice. “Sometimes I wonder if Maude puts a little extrasomethingin her baked goods.”
He stilled. “Does she?”
Britt shook her head. “It’s an inside joke. Maude still has her D.A.R.E. T-shirt from the eighties.”
“Dare?”
