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“Why are you torturing me like this?” he asks as I head back to my own chair and pick up my palette knife.

“Well, you forced me to do MMA, so… suck it.”

“MMA is a useful skill.”

“And this isn’t?”

“It’s so… slow and passive.”

“Maybe I’m Miyagi-ing you, and you’re missing your chance to become the best around.”

“You’re doing what?”

“Shut up!” I laugh. “Have you seriously never seen The Karate Kid?”

“No.”

“We’re watching it tonight, and then you’ll finally understand how I’m Miyagi-ing you.”

“Deal… but just so you know, Miyuyuing me or not, my painting is going to suck.”

I burst out laughing. “It’s Miyagi, and don’t worry, Knox. You can’t mess up art.”

“Pretty sure I can.”

“No, you can’t fail. Art isn’t an exam. It can be whatever you feel, or whatever you dream about. Just put something on the canvas,” I explain, sliding my brush to trace Knox’s profile.

I hope he doesn’t mind that I’m painting him.

I focus on his eye… that intense, stunning way he stares. It’s a gaze that has always taken my breath away.

Even back when I thought I hated him.

I glance over at him, all furrowed brows and mouth pressed into a severe line.

Damn…

It’s so cute how concentrated he is on that canvas.

“So… Alistair mentioned the two of you have known each other since you were nineteen,” I say.

Knox frowns, looking like he’s ready to go and break the poor sniper’s neck.

“Please don’t kill him. I swear I tried for hours to get more info, but that’s all he told me.”

“Yeah… Nineteen sounds about right. On our first leave from the army, Logan took me to a vineyard, and that’s where I met Law and Davo.”

“Who’s Davo?”

“David Anderson. He’s from Australia,” Knox replies, dipping his brush into the brown paint. “His parents were close friends with Logan and Law’s family.”

David Anderson…

Why does that name sound so familiar?

Is he from… no… the only Anderson I know is—“Oh, my God, David Anderson? As in the journalist?”

Knox looks at me in surprise. “You know him?”