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Chantelle shook her head. “Oh, no.” She stepped back. “I’m not an artist.”
“It can be abstract. No judging, I promise.” He smiled.
A slow smile built on her lips. She inched closer and took the brush from his hand. “I don’t know what to draw.”
“How about a bird?” Javier suggested.
“I don’t know how,” she said.
Javier stood close behind her and placed his firm hand over hers. He dipped the brush into the paint and brought their hands to the canvas.
“Start with a teardrop.” He instructed her. “This will be the head.”
Chantelle let him lead her with the brush strokes, listening as the brush swiped the paper. Drawing the teardrop, they dipped the brush into more of the navy blue paint. Were they painting a blue jay? Either way, she swallowed and followed his lead. Her body went still with his breath at her ear.
They had talked on the phone the last few days, getting to know each other better. Chantelle saw Javier had a passion for art. He loved creating pieces that reflected the world as he saw it. It was breathtaking to see his paintings scattered across his studio.
She also discovered his genuine heart. He was a man of his word. Javier didn’t keep her guessing either. She knew he was interested in her. If only the gnawing feeling wasn’t in the pit of her stomach. What was missing? She liked him. He was a nice guy. He treated her better in their short time together than Bryce ever did.
Chantelle blinked, focusing her eyes on the painting. Still, the thought wouldn’t leave her mind. She was with an incredible man. Why wasn’t it enough somehow? Was she expecting too much too soon? She sighed. Perhaps they needed more time. Javier deserved that much for being the gentleman he was.
“So far, so good?” He asked.
“Uh, huh.” The hairs on the back of her neck raised. The intimacy of the moment. No denying it. With him so close, all she had to do was lean into his embrace. Chantelle kept her composure.
“Now we’ll draw the body.” He swooped the brush in the form of an “S.” Chantelle followed his movements, staring at the canvas as it came to life with a bird. Once they finished the wings, Javier stepped away from her and allowed her to fill in the bird with more colors.
“What do you think?” She asked.
“Looks great,” he said. “See, that wasn’t so bad.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, but a grin escaped her lips. “Thank you.”
Javier wiped his hands with a paper towel and handed a piece to Chantelle. Wiping her hands clean, she admired her artistic skills.
“I guess it’s not too bad.” She smiled as her eyes squinted at the painting.
“That’s what I love about art. It’s your own interpretation of the world. Each human is unique. Even our fingerprints don’t match, so we can affect the world in the different way. I like to think of art as leaving an imprint.” Javier’s eyes sparkled as he talked.
The side of Chantelle’s mouth quirked up at his enthusiasm. “That’s very poetic. I feel the same way about writing.”
“You paint with words.”
She shook her head. “Not really. Besides, it’s not as if I’m writing fiction.”
“You don’t think your stories have an impact?”
Her lips parted, his question catching her off guard. “I don’t think about that.”
Javier nodded. “I understand. I didn’t either, but when people tell me how my paintings make them feel, I keep that in mind when I make a new one. Someone’s affected by what we do, whether or not we know it.”
Heat radiated through Chantelle’s chest. “You sure you’re not a life coach or something?”
Javier laughed, throwing his head back.
“I’m serious. You seem to give expert advice.”
“I’ll think about it as a side career. How about that?”
