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My heart pounds crazily in my chest. I’ve never sold a painting.
“How much are they?” Jack says.
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I’ve never sold one.”
“I’ll take them.” He drops a price that stops my breath.
I’m horrified. “You can’t buy them for that amount. It’s too expensive.”
“They are worth a lot more than that, I assure you,” Jack says. “It’s a bargain, and years from now, I won’t be able to afford your work. I’ll have the honor of saying that I bought your first works.”
I swallow down the next question, which is whether he can afford that amount of money. A nervous laugh escapes my mouth. Then feelings of exhilaration come over me.
I just sold my first paintings!
“Let’s go and eat before the food goes cold,” Jack says and leads the way out of the studio.
I excuse myself to wash my face and hands, and then I join him in the kitchen. I take out plates while Jack unpacks the food.
“I got both Chinese and Mexican food and figured you had to like at least one of them,” he says.
I stare at the amount of food on the table. It’s too much for two people. It can feed a whole family. It’s extravagant of Jack to spend so much on food that we won’t come close to finishing.
“That’s a lot of food.”
“You can pack the leftovers for tomorrow,” he says.
I don’t bother pointing out that we’ll both be at work the following day. We settle down at the kitchen table to eat. I pile both types of food onto my plate and start to eat, making appreciative noises.
Jack grins. “A woman after my own heart. I love to see a woman who can eat.”
“I’m a firefighter. I have to eat to keep up with the physical demands on my body,” I tell him. “Plus, I love food.”
He laughs.
“When did you start painting?” he asks, peering at me as though seeing me for the first time.
I think about his question for a few moments before answering. “I’ve never not painted,” I say to him. “But I guess I became more serious when I was about ten years old.”
When I moved in with my adopted parents, they took me to see a therapist who was big on having her patients use art to express their feelings. I don’t tell Jack this part as it will bring up a host of other questions that I can’t answer. I vowed to bury my past, and I’ve managed to do just that. Apart from my adopted parents, no one else knows my real parents. Isla knows that I’m adopted, but that’s about all.
“No wonder you’re so good,” he says. “Why is your work not displayed in a gallery and being sold for crazy expensive prices?”
I laugh at that. “I’m flattered that you think my paintings are worthy of being displayed in a gallery.”
“One of my closest friends owns a gallery. If you like, I can hook you up with him.”
My pulse races, and I look at Jack as if he’s lost his mind. “No! Please no.” Panic grips my throat.
“Hey, relax,” Jack says quickly. “It was just a suggestion.”
Relief floods me, and it dawns on me that my reaction might have been a bit on the extreme side. I plaster a smile on my face. “I’m grateful for the offer, but I’m not ready for that.”
He shrugs. “Whatever you say is fine with me.”
Chapter 6
Jack
I drop the topic of her painting, but I’m still stunned. I can’t believe that Grace can’t see how gifted she is. I’ll leave it alone for now, but it’s definitely not the end of this. I’ll have to get Greg to look at them and see what he thinks. I’m a bit of a collector, and I like to think that I’ve developed a discerning eye for unique pieces over the years. It won’t be the first time that I’ve called Greg’s attention to a new talent and he loved the work. I can’t stop thinking about the one she did of me and in the space of only a few hours.
I shuddered when I looked at it. I had a vulnerable look about me that reminded me of the moment I woke up in hospital after the accident. I’d been hooked up to tubes and wires, with machines beeping behind me. I had no idea where I was or what had happened.
“Thank you so much,” Grace says, patting her belly. “The food was delicious, and now I know I’ll never eat again.”
I laugh. “If only that were true.”
She cocks her head to one side and contemplates me. I feel myself drowning in her sea-green eyes.
“So, Jack Acker, what did you do before you came to the firehouse?” she asks.
My heart skips a beat, but I’ve more or less prepared for this question. I don’t want to lie to her. Something special is happening between us, and I want to see more of Grace, even after the three weeks are over.
