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“I work here, remember?”
God, she wanted to throw her arms over her head and laugh. She worked here too now. Withhim. How was it going to be running into him every day? How had she not thought about that before? Right, because she’d been battling her previous reservations about trusting him. Now she was going to have to control herself from grinning at him like a lovesick girl because she was so crushing on him now.
And when she tasted the coffee, she fell in love. “OMG! You make good coffee too?”
His soft laughter was like carnival music, the kind that had made her want to skip as a child. “You’re only beginning to become aware of all my talents,a stór.”
Treasure. He was calling her his treasure. She’d never been anyone’s treasure. She’d mostly been treated as a nuisance by her parents. Her heart cracked open a bit more and she couldn’t quite clear all the emotion from her throat. “Do you need anything?” she managed.
“Only one of your smiles,” he called, making her sigh into his thermos as its steam wafted over her face.
She would give him a smile and more after they finished. Heck, maybe she needed to stop fighting the whole soulmate thing and go with it. Clearly being with him was working for her. Plus, she wanted him like she’d never wanted any guy. She wasn’t sure whether it was the fumes from the spray paint or the magic of creating the mural together, but she was feeling like she could make the leap of a lifetime.
First, though, she needed to tackle his aunt. He hadn’t needed to show her a photo. Mary Kincaid was, after all, part of the briefing book Bets had provided to her prior to coming to Caisleán. There’d been photos along with some basic information about what she’d done to undermine the center, everything from closing it down to harassing its employees and destroying some of Bets’ prize roses. Taylor already hated the woman. She was a viper. Cruel. The kind of person who wouldn’t stop.
Well, Taylor was going to make her stop. Fairy tales were shorthand for the kinds of archetypes people faced every day, and she’d decided Mary Kincaid would be the haggard witch from “Hansel and Gretel.” The two children she was harassing would have apple-colored cheeks and wholesome faces out of a Norman Rockwell painting. But inside the oven the witch was hoping to cook the two children in would be a single red rose, dripping with blood, the kind she imagined Mary grew in her famed garden.
Taylor went to town on the images, starting with the scene in the cottage before tackling the three figures. Because she wanted people to recognize Mary, she kept her face mostly realistic in style except for a slight bulge in her eyes to show her greed and avarice. The children were a piece of cake, and she had them finished in a half hour.
When she stepped back, she had a flash of inspiration. She dug out a few cans of spray paint and painted a black cauldron in the corner with fire billowing out as the witch fed books into it, since Taylor knew Mary had been behind the attempts to censor an art book the center had wanted to use in the children’s program.
Yes, that was it. Taylor could feel all her anger at people like Mary Kincaid draining out of her. Expressing her feelings in her art did that. Then she’d read the paper the next day, and the news would be filled with more villains.
Still, she would take her stand. She checked her watch. They were heading into the sixth hour. Right on schedule. They would be out of here by five, well before the first sheep farmer emerged at sunrise, which was around eight at this time of year.
She headed over to the center ladder. “I’m ready to join you on the scaffolding,” she called in a loud whisper.
“Come on up,” he shot back, peering over the side at her.
When she reached him, he helped her up, his touch igniting fires on her tired and aching hand. He handed her a brand-new paintbrush. They shared a conspiratorial smile, and she felt her heart roll over in her chest.
“Thanks.” She wanted to kiss him but told herself to wait. “Let’s finish this.”
They didn’t speak after that, painting together in companionable silence. She was aware of him stretching from time to time, which encouraged her to do the same, as she tried not to think about his beautiful body. Her own muscles were starting to feel the burn, as was her neck. She imagined he felt the same. When they reached the last shape, he gestured to it grandly.
“You should finish it,” he said softly, his green eyes somehow even brighter in the light from her hat now.
She appreciated the gesture but shook her head. “Let’s finish it together.”
His mouth curved before he nodded. She imagined he would start whistling if he didn’t know she was worried about the noise carrying.
“Don’t think this means I’m a hundred percent sure you’re my soulmate or anything,” she said in what she hoped was a flirty tone. “But I’m willing to admit the idea is growing on me. Hard. But I can confess that I have a very serious crush on you. Like spray paint serious.”
She caught the sweeping smile on his lips. “Progress then.”
The sound of his paintbrush rushing up the wall filled her ears, making her smile. Yeah, it really was.
She made sure to do the last shape from the outside in. He did the same. They crept closer and closer to each other as the black paint covered the wall. When their shoulders touched, they exchanged a look and grinned. The final stroke of each of their brushes finished the mural. Taylor lowered her hand to her side in triumph. “Well, that’s it.”
“Nice working with you, Taylor McGowan.” He put his arms around her, and she leaned her head against his shoulder.
“You too, Liam O’Hanlon.”
They stood there for a moment, the silence wrapping around them like an embrace. The dark of the night felt far off given the lights they had illuminating each other. There was the call of a loud bird overhead, one she didn’t recognize, and she laughed as the joy of their victory poured through her. It had been so easy!
“What?” he asked softly, his arm tightening around her waist.
“I was just thinking how glad I am that no birds have bugged us. If you had any idea what a pain pigeons can be when you paint like this.”
