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Chapter Five
Alani jumped when her phone’s timer went off, the sound of shrieking birds filling the studio. Hastily setting her sketchpad and pencil aside, she scrambled over to the kiln to fiddle with a few of the knobs. She’d purposefully chosen the most obnoxious alarm tone her phone had, as she knew she’d get lost in sketching otherwise. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d ruined a pot because she was lost in the world of design, so wrapped up in her head as she worked that mellow, less ridiculous alarms blended right in and became background noise.
Wiping at her brow, she took a step back from the kiln and said a small prayer for the pot inside. This was the first time she’d use someone else’s kiln to make her pottery, and while she knew the basics of operating it, the damn thing was different than the one she had at home.
In her mind, there was a 50/50 chance it might botch the pot, which she’d mentally prepared for after she set the piece inside. And if it did screw her work up somehow, she just told herself that she would have to start again tomorrow.
All that arguing with the gorgeous jerk upstairs last week would have been for nothing because her project would have come out ruined despite all his stomping around. To be fair, he’d been quieter since she said something, but as Alani spent that week working on her various projects, having to restart this one pot over and over again, it was hard to ignore even the slightest creak in the ceiling now.
After switching her phone’s timer off, Alani set a new one. This was the final fire she had to run on this particular pot, having already done the bisque fire, then she glazed it, and now she needed the glaze to set properly. This was it. The last step between now and the final product. She had at least a day to wait before she could remove what she hoped would be an A+-worthy pot, but she kept her expectations low.
Running her hands through her thick hair, her eyes drifted to the ceiling for a moment when she thought she heard the distinct softer footfalls of the tenant above. When silence stared back, she shook her head and wondered why on earth her heart was suddenly hammering, then went back to her sketchbook.
Only to gasp—she’d been drawing him without even realizing it. The grumpy jerk from upstairs. Ivo, Tanith had said his name was. Not an Angel Fire local, just someone who moved here in his teens and became a part of the local scene.
Gorgeous dark eyes. Alani had seen him a few times since they’d met, usually when she was headed for the gallery, and he was on his way out of the building. Their eyes would meet, and her heart would flutter, but she’d put her head down and carry on. He’d been so incredibly rude that first time they met; she couldn’t understand why her body would respond the way it did about seeing him.
And now here was her subconscious… sketching him without her even realizing.
“Pathetic,” she muttered, standing over the sketchbook with her hands planted on her hips. In all honesty, it was one of the best portrait sketches she’d ever done; managing to capture what she thought were stunning, almost Scandinavian features—all from memory.
Alani swallowed hard, brow shifting into a frown, and then started to pack up her things. Clearly just being in this building was influencing her art; she’d do better at her one-bedroom rental two blocks over, where she couldn’t hear him every so often, his handsome face flashing to mind, followed quickly by his surly words.
With a shake of her head, she stuffed everything into her bag, mentally admonishing herself for acting like the shy art student with a crush—the girl in high school who sits off to the side sketching cute boys—and left for the rental.
She searched the gallery to say her goodbyes to Tanith, who had proved to be an immeasurable source of support and strength for Alani in this new town, but the woman was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t unheard of that the free spirit would disappear at the drop of a hat, no doubt wandering wherever her heart dictated.
Alani grinned at the thought, then closed the studio door and slipped into her spring jacket. Given that she’d left the tropics for a supposedly desert environment, Alani had been surprised at just how chilly New Mexico felt when she’d arrived. Even now, a month or so into her stay in the new state, she was waiting for things to heat up.
Before she left, she hesitated at the door of the gallery. If Tanith wasn’t there, should she stay so the space wouldn’t be empty? What if someone walked right on in and emptied the cash box in Tanith’s office? Nibbling her lower lip, she looked up and down the street, then decided to move on.
Angel Fire wasn’t the type of town with hooligans and thieves—from what she’d picked up, anyway. No, it was a quaint little village nestled at the base of one end of a sprawling mountain range, home to simple folk who liked to keep to their routine, even with the influx of tourists.
The resort—Ruiz something—seemed to bring a lot of out-of-towners in, and Alani had watched restaurants, coffee shops, and sports bars swell with people one night, then look all but vacant the following.
Ranchers, shop owners, teachers—most people who weren’t employed locally had jobs in the little towns nearby, all within a half-hour to an hour’s drive away. Tanith had introduced her to a group of nurses the other night, roommates who worked at the hospital on the outskirts of Angel Fire. Although small, it employed many of the locals in one way or another.
“If you ever need something part-time, I’m sure we can find you a spot with the reception crew,” one of the nurses had offered over drinks, to which Alani smiled and thanked her, keeping the fact that money wasn’t an issue for her all to herself. Warren’s yearly allowance paid for all her expenses for herself and the girls and then some.
All in all, Angel Fire had been a surprisingly welcoming little town. As Alani strolled back to her apartment, she smiled and greeted a few familiar faces, many of whom smiled first when their eyes met.
She’d expected a little middle-of-nowhere village to be full of bigots and idiots, frankly. A bit prejudiced of her, but she’d heard mixed things about small mainland American towns. So far, thankfully, Angel Fire had proved all the stereotypes wrong. People were warm and interested in her, many demanding they see her art on show once she was finished.
Little did they know she’d be boxing everything up and sending it back to her college as soon as it was complete, where one of the course TAs would add it to a collection space. Not that it mattered. Nobody really wanted to see her art, Alani had assumed. They were just being nice—because that’s what Angel Fire was all about. Being nice.
Her stomach gave a soft growl as she approached her building. With the sun questing ever downward, casting lengthy shadows over the one and two-story buildings around her, she lost herself in her head, debating what to make for dinner.
Normally if her twins weren’t around Alani was known for sinking deep into thought—about art, her daughters, or life in general. Sometimes it took a good shaking to get her out of it, yet as she headed for home, something made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. Frowning, she pulled out of her musings and slowed her steps, arms crossed over her chest. Something felt… off.
Not like she was in danger. While Alani loved her island, she’d grown up a street-wise teenager, never walking home alone after dark and brushing up on her yearly self-defense classes just in case. But something in that moment set off alarm bells in her head, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on what the issue was.
Gripping her slouchy over-the-shoulder bag, dead weight hanging across her body with all her art supplies in it, she quickly scanned her apartment building, a frown growing deeper when nothing stood out.
She’d rented a one-bedroom apartment in a three-story low-rise in the heart of Angel Fire. Most of its occupants were senior citizens, whom Alani preferred; at least the building was quiet, aside from the occasional blaring television.
Her apartment was the first place that felt safe to her in a new town, followed closely by Tanith’s art gallery. Yet something now plucked at her anxieties with every step she took toward the building, her heart pounding in her ears. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself, insisting that she was just on edge from her phone’s alarm jerking her out of drawing time—and the subsequent discovery of precisely what—who—she’d been drawing.
As she approached the entryway, she looked down to fish her keys out of her purse, and when Alani looked back up, she noticed something shift in the shadows of the garden beside the locked front door.
“Oh!” She hadn’t meant to say anything, but the large shape moved quickly from the shadowy corner, startling her. Her hand fell to her chest as a figure stepped toward her, and Alani immediately countered with a few steps backward, forcing her keys between her fingers as her free hand curled into a fist.
Much to her surprise, Ivo Ames stepped out, his handsome, chiseled face catching the light from the pair of electronic lanterns on either side of the door. Unfortunately, his presence didn’t do much to appease the prickling sensation crawling up her neck, and she inhaled deeply, using the motion to puff out her chest and throw her shoulders back, as her fist tightened around her keys.
“Evening,” Ivo said with a smirk. “Did I startle you?”
