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“Third piece.” Blue eyes flicked in his direction. Jealousy that she hadn’t seen the ocean painting up close had her startled. “Then we will be three pieces down.”
She considered, then shrugged. The idea of painting him in an intimate setting once more made her mouth dry and her insides tingle, but there was so much complication wrapped around it. “I will think about it.”
He nodded, satisfied that she would. No one approached them for the next few minutes, allowing them to explore on their own until something caught her gaze. When a man approached him, she tapped his arm.
“Excuse me; I’m just going to look at something.”
She slipped out before he could protest and made a beeline down the front until she was standing in front of the painting mentioned. The date on the side indicated it had been here for a while. Then she was focusing on the piece itself.
The oceans stretched on for miles, dark in some areas and light in others, depicting its mood and depth as the sun and dark clouds fought each other for center space above. Each stray ray of sunlight that managed to push through glittered over water and became the bluest of them all, making her realize the woman was right—it did match Edmund’s eyes, perhaps intentionally.
But the woman had it all wrong, too, in that it couldn’t be only described like that. There was the broiling turmoil. There were the strokes that contrasted and blended, the foams when waves crashed over obstacles…the calmer corner when the waves landed on the sand, and peeks of green could be glimpsed to show there was peace after the storm. Her heart went out to that corner, feeling it to the depths of her soul, but the whole art piece touched her in a way that had her grinning. She turned, ready to sing praises towards Edmund.
She stilled when she spotted Alishondra by his side, touching his arm and making him laugh with whatever the woman whispered in his ear. A dark emotion swirled to replace her euphoria, dampening her mood until she was scowling. She tried not to, remembering their interaction earlier.
“Get it together, Alexa.”
He had offered, and she had refused. Why was she so upset?
“Get. It. Together.”
The woman stood on her tiptoes and whispered again, this time brushing her lips against his cheek. Her hand went to his chest, rubbing. Edmund nodded politely to the fluttering of lashes but didn’t smile—and the woman took that as a sign to try harder and trailed her hand lower.
Alexa began seeing red. Her mind warned her to mind her business, but her body had taken her before them and her hand was tugging his.
“Let’s go.”
The two turned to her.
“What?” he asked.
“I’m in the mood to paint.”
The woman looked at her as if she was the most bizarre person ever, but she kept her gaze glued to Edmund, awaiting his reaction. She vowed to step back if he declined and refused to give in to the need to fight—
“Okay. Sure. Let’s go.”
Alexa blinked, not expecting a quick response. So did the woman, who glowered at her over his shoulder and looked like she wanted to argue. Then Edmund’s wrist wrapped around Alexa’s hand and tugged her in turn, leaving the woman speechless. When they were out of sight, Alexa snatched her hand back and tried not to rub the tingling portion.
“You are in a mood, all right. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” They left the venue. Her muddled mind prevented her from speaking.
“She wanted to purchase a future piece of mine.”
“I’m sure she does. And I didn’t ask.”
A figure blocked her path on the street. She looked up at Edmund, who was peering at her in puzzlement and fascination.
“Are you jealous, Alexa?”
“I’m not,” she said promptly.
“Then what is this?”
“You deserve better,” she blurted out.
“Better?”
