Frostbite

by Deborah Bladon

  Looking up, I take note that the auction is in full swing. Someone is about to pay six figures for a watercolor painting by Brighton Beck. I’d toss my hat in the ring, but I’ve only ever bought one painting. It’s the one piece of art I own that I didn’t create.

  I approach the bar and check the email Mitzi sent yesterday with the order of items that are available tonight. If things stay on track, my sculpture will be on the block within the next thirty minutes. I’ll be out of here and on my way back to my studio before I know it. I might as well settle in and enjoy the festivities.

  ***

  An hour later, I’m cursing the person who got into a bidding war with Augustine. For some reason, only known to the man himself, Augustine desperately wanted to get his hands on an abstract painting of Santa Claus.

  I stood in the shadows watching the bidding war heat up. It took more than twenty minutes as Augustine inched his way past the other Santa lover by upping each of her bids by a dollar.

  The fact that the painting sold for less than a hundred dollars should have been a sign to both Augustine and the gray-haired woman in the leopard print scarf that it wasn’t worth the effort.

  Augustine let out a shriek and jumped to his feet when the auctioneer lowered his gavel and declared Mitzi’s husband the winner. The woman in the scarf stormed out of the gallery leaving Augustine to enjoy the painting.

  I take one last glance around the room as my sculpture is placed on the auction block. The murmured whispers around me are a sure sign that it’s going to eclipse the Santa Claus panting in price.

  Thank Christ since I wouldn’t be able to show my face in public again if it didn’t.

  The auctioneer calls out a starting bid of five hundred dollars.

  At least a dozen hands fly in the air.

  Bauer catches my eye from across the room. He’s standing near the stage, facing the crowd. He gauges their reaction while I stand behind them. Rows upon rows of people dressed in their holiday best are seated shoulder-to-shoulder as they try to one-up each other to get the prize of the night.

  Tonight it’s the small metal sculpture I crafted over the course of a few days.

  I smile inwardly as the auctioneer sails easily north of the five thousand dollar mark. If I were selling this piece myself, I’d price it at five times that.

  More hands drop as the price inches closer to ten thousand.

  When it passes the fifteen thousand dollar mark, two hands remain in the game.

  One belongs to a dark-haired guy in a black suit. The other bidder is a woman. All I can make out is blonde hair with pink streaks running through it. My gaze wanders to the person sitting next to her.

  I stare because her neck and upper back are a sculptor’s dream.

  It’s exactly what I wanted to emulate years ago when I experimented with clay.

  Bidding heats up with the amount passing the eighteen thousand mark.

  Twenty thousand.

  When it jumps to twenty-two thousand, the man’s hand wavers. He lowers it before it shoots back up.

  The woman battling him for ownership of the sculpture bolts to her feet. “Thirty thousand dollars.”

  Hell, yes.

  I won’t see a dime of that, but the kids benefitting from this auction will. I’m about to applaud her when her bidding opponent shakes his head in defeat.

  The auctioneer slams his gavel down. “Sold to Dexie Jones for thirty thousand dollars.”

  I watch the blonde woman with the exquisite neck and back dart to her feet. She gathers Dexie Jones into her arms just as her gaze travels over the back of the room.

  I take a step forward and then another for good measure because fuck me.

  It can’t be. There’s no way in hell that the beauty dressed in red is the same woman I ran into yesterday.

  I straighten the lapels of my jacket because for the first time, I’m about to introduce myself to someone who bought one of my sculptures at a charity auction.

  Chapter 7

  Raelyn

  “Look what’s headed our way.” Dexie elbows me harder than I think she intended.

  I stumble but gain my footing when she grabs hold of my forearm.

  “Just look.” Her voice is more insistent now, so I follow her gaze until it lands on two men.

  Both are ridiculously good-looking. The slightly taller one is wearing a black suit and shirt. The shirt is unbuttoned at the collar giving way to the sight of a sliver of his smooth chest, and a peek of what looks like a tattoo. His brown eyes match the color of his hair.

  The other man makes my knees go weak. With his brown hair pushed back from his forehead, I get a direct view of his striking blue eyes.

  I stare at him as he approaches. Why does he look so familiar?

  “Dexie Jones?” The blue-eyed man directs his attention to my sister once he’s in front of us.

  “That’s me.” Dexie’s gaze volleys between the two men. “Do I know you?”

  The blue-eyed man extends a hand in my sister’s direction. “I’m Calder Frost.”

  My sister, who is never at a loss for words, drops her mouth open before she slams it shut. “You…are you really him?”

  She’s tongue-tied. I’m in shock that she is. I thought Dexie wined and dined with Manhattan’s elite on a weekly basis.

  She’s never told me that. I assumed based on everyone she’s met in this city since she moved here.

  “I’m Bauer Knight.” The brown-eyed man extends a hand to me. “I work with Calder.”

  “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Raelyn.” I take his hand for a quick shake to show my sister proper handshake etiquette since she’s still grasping Calder Frost’s hand.

  It doesn’t work. She hangs onto him.

  “I didn’t think I’d get to meet you tonight.” Dexie giggles. “When I noticed you had a sculpture up for auction, I knew I had to bid on it until I won.”

  Calder levels his gaze on me before he turns back to Dex. “I’m grateful that you did.”

  I stare at his profile. He seems so familiar. I met a least a dozen sculptors when I worked for Eleni, but this man wasn’t one of them. I would have remembered him. He’s gorgeous.

  “I was hoping for something larger, but I love Fly Away. I already have a spot picked out for it.”

  Bauer clears his throat. “You were hoping that the Frost sculpture up for auction tonight would be larger?”

  Finally dropping Calder’s hand, Dexie nods. “I’m looking for something grand to give as a gift.”

  “How grand?” Calder asks with a glance in my direction.

  Why does his voice hit me that way? It feels like my body is lighting up just from the low growl in his tone.

  I cross my arms over my chest. My nipples have tightened again, and this time it has nothing to do with the temperature in the room.

  “Seven feet…maybe eight?” Dexie lifts a brow in question. “You wouldn’t happen to have something like that available, would you?”

  Calder exchanges a look with Bauer that I can’t place. The slight cock of Bauer’s brow and the smile tugging at the corner of his lip have to mean something. These men might make my sister’s Christmas dream come true yet.

  “I know that you can’t rush creativity,” Dexie goes on, disappointment wiping her smile from her face. “Raelyn is an artist. She’s told me that it’s not as simple as putting a brush to canvas. She needs to be inspired. I’m sure it’s the same for you. Besides, your sculptures are in high demand. They must leave your studio the moment you complete them.”

  Calder turns toward me. “Raelyn.”

  I nod. “Yes.”

  “You’re a painter?”

  “Oil on canvas,” I say, trying to sound somewhat professional.

  “What are you working on now?”

  I gulp at the question. I can’t tell him that I currently spend most of my waking hours painting intricate scenes on glass Christmas ornaments.

  “She’s been working on….” D
exie jumps into the conversation.

  “I just completed an assignment,” I interrupt to regain control of Calder’s impression of me. “I was the assistant to a sculptor. Before that, I worked closely with Lysa Trumell in London for over a year.”

  It’s never the wrong time to namedrop. Lysa is a big deal in the art world.

  “Lysa’s eye is amazing.” Bauer shoots me a smile. “I’m working with charcoal right now, and her drawings are incredible.”

  Calder keeps his gaze on me. “Who are you working for at the moment?”

  “No one,” I admit. “I’m in New York for a visit.”

  “She’s visiting me. We’re sisters.” Dexie wraps an arm around my shoulder. “You probably already guessed that.”

  “I see the resemblance.” Bauer smiles.

  Calder finally directs his attention back to Dex. “If you want something larger, I’ll make it happen.”

  “By Christmas?” Dexie’s eyes widen. “Are you serious?”

  “Calder,” Bauer bites out his name. “We should talk.”

  Calder once again turns to me. “I’ll need assistance in order to get it done in time. Raelyn can help.”

  Um…what? What is happening?

  I have dozens of ornament orders to complete. If I have to help Calder, I’ll need to cut sleeping out of my schedule.

  “She’ll do it,” Dexie agrees without even a glance in my direction.

  Before I can protest, I catch Bauer’s eye. He shrugs his shoulders and smiles.

  “Bauer will work out the details with you, Dexie. I’ll get started on this in the next day or two.” Calder rubs a hand over his jaw. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Raelyn.”

  I manage a small smile in response.

  Something tells me that I’m about to walk into a lion’s den courtesy of my sister.

  Chapter 8

  Raelyn

  I excused myself from the conversation with Dexie, Bauer, and Calder because I needed to find a corner where I could scream.

  I didn’t find one. Instead, I found a server who offered me a glass of champagne. I took it and downed it in one gulp before asking him if I could get something stronger.

  He directed me toward a bar set up in the corner of the gallery.

  I asked the bartender for a straight shot of whiskey, and he didn’t disappoint.

  He refilled my glass almost immediately after I emptied it.

  Now, I’m wandering the crowded gallery looking at a display of oil paintings.

  My body tenses as I feel someone behind me. I hope it’s my sister. I can’t fault her for telling Calder I’d help her. I know in her excitement to get Rocco the gift of his dreams, she didn’t stop to consider that I have a lot of work of my own to do.

  As long as I leave Calder’s studio by six p.m. each day, I’ll have time to paint the ornaments that have already been ordered.

  “Which painting is your favorite?”

  I suck in a quick breath. That’s not Dexie’s voice. The woodsy cologne filling the air around me isn’t from the scent of her perfume.

  Calder Frost is behind me.

  “I don’t have a favorite,” I offer without turning around.

  “Why not?” Calder asks with a hint of amusement in his tone. “I have a favorite.”

  I shrug a shoulder. “I don’t.”

  “You’re not curious about which one is my favorite?”

  I spin around to face him.

  I don’t know if it’s the champagne and whiskey or his face. Something is making my stomach flip around as though there are a hundred butterflies in it.

  “I’ve never worked with a sculptor who uses metal,” I say. “Do you really think I can be of service to you?”

  He focuses his gaze on my bottom lip. “I know you can be.”

  “How do you know that?” The alcohol has apparently stolen my common sense.

  Dexie is relying on this man to make an extraordinary gift for her husband. I should excuse myself before I say something I regret.

  “I assure you that you can be of service, Raelyn. You’re a talented artist, aren’t you? If memory serves me, you don’t just paint oils on canvas. You paint balls too.”

  The glass in my hand shakes as realization takes hold of me.

  Oh my god.

  Calder Frost is the man who almost ran me over yesterday.

  He’s the arrogant jerk who wouldn’t apologize.

  “You’re him,” I accuse while balancing the almost empty glass in my hand. “How long have you known I’m me?”

  I shake my head. “That didn’t come out right.”

  He steps closer. His eyes lock on mine. “When you stood up to celebrate your sister’s winning bid, I saw you. I knew it was you right away.”

  My hand darts to my lips. “You knew when you told Dexie you needed my help with the sculpture?”

  He reaches for my hand to uncover my mouth. With his gaze trained on my red lips, he smiles. “That’s the reason I insisted on your assistance.”

  I work my way through that declaration word-by-word. I shake my head to ward off the fog that’s taking over. I can’t be drunk. I can’t be.

  “You look pale, Raelyn.” He holds my palm against his chest.

  Holy hell, he’s rock hard under his shirt.

  Tugging my hand away, I stop a passing server so I can put my glass on his tray. I have to cut myself off right this minute – no more alcohol for me.

  “I need to find my sister.” I glance around the room until I spot Dexie talking to Mitzi Hemley. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  “Of course.” He steps back to let me pass. “I’ll see you very soon, Raelyn. Feel free to bring your balls. I’m interested in seeing them.”

  ***

  Calder Frost thinks my balls are beneath him.

  Wait. Why did that sound so messed up?

  The look on his face last night when he mentioned my hand-painted Christmas ornaments said it all. He doesn’t see it as real art.

  I get it.

  Some people value talent based on the price it lures. Others, like me, see it more abstractly. If a work of art strikes an emotion inside of me, I consider it priceless.

  Based on some of the reviews on my Etsy store, I know that I’ve done that for many people. If they open their ornament box each year and see my creation and a smile touches their lips, I’ve done my job.

  I finish putting on a pair of black jeans. Since Dexie has already left for work, I feel confident that I can put in at least twelve hours painting ornaments today. If I accomplish that, I’ll be on track to finish the orders I already have. Unfortunately, I’m probably going to have to stop accepting any new orders for delivery by Christmas.

  My phone dings with the arrival of a new text message.

  It has to be my mom. When she texted me last night, I told her I’d get back to her today.

  I walk over to the bedside table and glance down at my phone’s screen.

  Unknown: What time can I expect you today?

  I stare at the message. I don’t have any appointments booked. I’m not meeting anyone for breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

  I shrug it off as a wrong number and walk back over to the closet. I reach for a black and red plaid shirt just as my phone dings again.

  I rush back over, wondering if it’s my mom.

  Unknown: The best cure for a hangover is hard work, so aim to be at my studio within the hour.

  I read the message twice before I scroll through my contact list to call my sister.

  She answers on the first ring. “Rae, how are you feeling?”

  “Confused,” I say quietly. “I think Calder Frost is texting me. Should he be texting me right now, Dex?”

  She lets out a laugh. “Oh, damn. I was going to wake you up before I left, but I had a call from our pop-up shop manager in Philadelphia. I had to go into my studio to find an invoice for her.”

  I should ask her if that situation got sorted out, but I’m on a p
ath of selfishness right now, so I stay on course. “Does Calder Frost expect me to be at his studio today?”

  “Yes.” The sound of a car horn in the background punctuates the word. “Bauer called me early this morning to say that in order to get the sculpture done in time for Christmas, Calder needs to start on it ASAP.”

  I bow my head because there go my plans for the day.

  “You’re okay with helping him, right?” Dexie asks. “I know we didn’t discuss it last night. If I put you in an awkward position, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”

  I didn’t say a word to her last night about Calder being the man I ran into on the sidewalk. I’m still trying to process that information myself.

  “Dex,” I say her name while searching for the right words to gently tell her that although I appreciate that she’s letting me stay with her, I have to complete dozens of ornaments to fulfill the commitments I’ve made to my customers.

  Before I can say another word, she does. “I know you have work to do, Rae. I’ll do whatever I can to help with that. Rocco has made me the happiest woman alive, and with the baby coming, I want to do something extra special to show him how much I love him.”

  Guilt wraps its cold hand around my heart. I owe my sister so much. Not just because I always have a room at her home, but she’s one of the few people in this world who encouraged me to paint. If it wasn’t for Dexie, I might not have taken that chance on myself.

  “I’ll get all my work done,” I assure her even though I don’t know if I believe it. “I’ll help Calder with whatever he needs so that sculpture is in the foyer on Christmas Day.”

  “Thank you.” I hear the emotion in her voice. “I’m on my way to meet a supplier. I’ll text you the address to Calder’s studio as soon as I get there. I can’t tell you how much this means to me, Rae. You’re the best sister in the world.”

  “No, you are,” I counter. “I’ll be waiting for the text. Have a good day, Dex.”