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“I want to see what you can do,” he whispered. “I mean, I’ve seen your finished works, but I want to see your process.”
“And what will you be doing as I paint?”
He laughed. “Bennett needs more songs for the agent so . . . I’ll be writing lyrics.”
“Oh, I love this. You’ll see my process, and I’ll see yours.” I walked to the brushes and picked one up, my fingers bending the stiff hairs to make them flexible. There was nothing better than a blank canvas and fresh brushes. The possibilities were endless. Glancing up at Elliot, I whispered, “Thank you.”
He nodded, his hands finding my waist. “Is Jillian . . .”
“She won't tell anyone else, so I hate to tell you, but you’re still Daxton.” I placed the brush back down on the chair and ran my hands up his arms, keeping him at a small distance even though I wanted to pull him.
Elliot heaved a sigh. “I can still be Daxton, but Daxton will be writing songs.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
-Elliot-
As much as I loved writing lyrics, I was starting to love watching the creative juices flow from Jamie more.
She instantly opened the large windows that led out to the deck, letting the sun light in before she moved the easel for the best lighting. Setting herself up, she raised a pencil and tapped it to her bottom lip. Her eyes lit up when the idea came to her mind. She leaned into the canvas, giving me a sexy smirk before she began to sketch something onto it. Her concentration completely shifted once she opened the oil paints, and when she reached up to brush a piece of hair off her forehead, a yellow streak of paint smeared against her skin. And she didn't even notice.
I lifted my phone and snapped a picture of her painting, the perfect candid photo that would either make her really mad ormake her want to kiss me. If I was being honest, I’d welcome either one.
The ding from my phone pulled my attention away from watching her, and the text from Clay instantly changed the mood in the room.
Clay:I have the company's appraisal, I think you’ll be happy. Meeting soon? Real soon.
I glanced up at Jamie one last time, still so in the zone before I stood, and walked over to her to kiss her temple, but she popped up, lowering her canvas away and tilting her entire body as far away from me as possible.
“Not a chance.” She glared.
“I was coming to give you a kiss before heading downstairs.”
“Oh.” Her posture relaxed. “Well, I will take a kiss . . . but you can’t see the painting.”
“Oh no, no.” I raised my hands and stepped away. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt your flow. I have to call Clay.”
I left her in the loft, the yellow smear on her forehead making her seem more irresistible than before. I could spend the rest of this trip in this loft with her just watching her paint. The short moments we had only made me want more—I was craving it. I wanted to see her smile, I wanted to hear her laugh and taste her skin. I wanted so much more with Jamie, and it had only been a few days—I had plenty of time to get these moments.
And by the looks of it, I hoped they continued even after we got back to Portland. This wasn’t Vegas. What happened in Park City didn’t have to stay in Park City.
Slipping on my coat and shoes, I left the cabin, giving Jamie some peace and quiet. I knew I needed to call Clay, find out the appraisal of the company, but my feet took me right to the bigger cabin. I knew Janet was inside cooking dinner now, and Jamie’s nieces and nephews were most likely on tablets or in front of some kind of screen. Jamie had told me that they had events planned,they did this every year - but the snow had stopped a few of the trips the kids would take. I still had a ski trip in the back of my mind, but when I walked into the cabin, I saw a different story.
The living room had been made into a giant blanket fort—the dining room chairs were being utilized to hold up the blankets. The oldest kid, Dustin, was in the kitchen with his grandmother, waiting for two large bowls of popcorn to be finished.
I laughed at the sight as I took my shoes and coat off. “What is going on in here? This is the fun cabin, isn’t it?”
“Oh Daxton, we didn’t expect you for a few more hours. Where’s Jamie?” Janet asked, a smile on her face as she handed Dustin the bowls of popcorn. He went into the fort, only to resurface for more snacks.
“She’s painting.”
“She liked the surprise I take it?” Harrison asked. He sat on the island, a beer in his hand as he watched his nephew run back and forth from the fort to the kitchen.
I had asked Harrison if he wanted to go with me to the craft store earlier today. He helped me pick out things for his sister and it was nice to get to talk to him, again, about his travels. Out of all her siblings, he was the one who was more open to talk to me. It wasn’t that Holden was closed off, but he was definitely focused on his kids—being the best dad he could be, while trying to run three restaurants from a different state. And Jillian was, well, now that she knew, I wasn’t sure how to act around her. Did I tell her I knew she knew? At the risk of sounding like aFriendsepisode, I didn’t know she knew I knew she knew.
“What are you doing?” I finally asked as Dustin made his third trip to the kitchen.
The eleven-year-old, who had been semi quiet with me since arriving, gave me a large smile and reached his hands out to grab the bottles of soda Janet had placed on the counter.
