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Brooke was behind him, but he finished cleaning the cupboard before he turned to face her. “Connor in bed?”
“Yes, I’m sorry, but he keeps asking for you. I tried...”
“It’s not a problem. I loved listening to stories, too, when I was his age.”
“Up the stairs, first door to the left. Coffee?”
“Thanks, yes.” He slipped out without him meeting her eyes. What the hell? He should’ve said he had to go, not agreed to stay even longer in the company of the lovely widow.
––––––––
When Brooke peepedinto Connor’s room a little later, her son was fast asleep, but there was no sign of Gavin. Frowning, she tucked the blankets around her little boy and kissed him on the forehead before she tiptoed out. It hadn’t taken her that long to switch on the coffee machine and to take out mugs. She’d thought Gavin would still be reading to Connor. So where was he?
It was around nine o’clock, and although the sun had already disappeared behind the mountains, it wasn’t yet dark outside.
As she closed Connor’s door behind her, she noticed the light in the room she used for her studio. The painting. Oh, no, Gavin was the last person she wanted to look at it! She hurried forward and opened the door. He was standing in front of the painting, his hands in his pockets.
“What are you doing?” she got out.
He didn’t move.
“Gavin, you can’t just come in here!” she scolded, and moved to put a cloth over the painting.
But with his eyes still on the painting, he put out a hand and stopped her. “This is...” He inhaled deeply. “Breathtaking. I’ve seen some of your paintings, but you haven’t done anything like this before, have you?”
“No, and I don’t know where it came from. I’m going to paint over it—something...”
“No!” he called out, his eyes meeting her for first time since she’d entered the room. “Why would you do that?”
“It’s just...it’s not the kind of thing I paint. Ever.”
“It’s a kiss.”
“I know what I’ve painted,” she said crossly.
“And”—he turned back to look at the canvas again—“the figures look familiar somehow...”
Brooke quickly covered the painting with the cloth. “You can barely make out the figures. Come on, the coffee should be ready by now.”
She walked down the stairs, acutely aware of Gavin right behind her. As they entered the kitchen, his phone rang.
“It’s Lindsay,” he said. News sure did travel fast in this town. “Hi Lindsay,” he answered, his lips twitching.
Brooke rolled her eyes. Of course, his other sister would’ve also heard by now Gavin was with Brooke. Nothing stayed a secret for long. Not that it was a secret... Swallowing a groan, she averted her eyes. She didn’t need family members to drive her crazy; she was doing that all on her own.
Damn interfering family. While Gavin was listening to Lindsay, she poured the coffee and put it on the kitchen table. The sooner Gavin Wilson left for the night, the better.
Her heart was hammering away, she had difficulty breathing properly, and she was very worried she might just do something she’d regret later.
Like she’d been telling everyone, she and Gavin were friends.Friends.
And friends, she should remember, don’t have the kind of inappropriate thoughts about each other, like the ones she was entertaining at the moment. Thoughts of kissing him, of touching his broad shoulders, of finding out whether his mouth was... Oh, damn.
It was probably the stupid painting that had set all these strange feelings inside of her in motion. She had to change it into something different, a calming landscape scene, as soon as possible. It wasn’t something she did often, but she’d done it before. She was a widow; she had a child and a demanding career. Her life was busy and complicated enough at the moment. She didn’t need other distractions.
“Yes, I’m still here,” Gavin’s voice finally penetrated her thoughts.
She looked up quickly. He was still talking to Lindsay on the phone.
