A New Leash on Love

by Debbie Burns

  Howard placed an arm around her and hugged her. “I knew pointing you in the direction of the art department was going to be a problem.” He chuckled and turned to Owen. “Brooke is an artist and looking to either intern here at the university or maybe get a lead on a gallery where she can work and perhaps get her paintings looked at.” He smiled lovingly at her. “She teaches painting classes during the summer semester at the community college, but she’s far too talented to keep doing it.”

  “Uncle Howard,” she said shyly.

  “What? It’s true!”

  Owen still couldn’t quite figure out why Brooke was here or why Howard had thought she should come to hear him lecture. He was just about to voice the question when Howard looked at him.

  “Brooke’s specialty is painting the night sky.”

  For a moment, Owen wasn’t sure how to respond.

  Brooke blushed and then looked at Owen to explain. “I know most people would say the night sky is simply dark—or black—with some stars, but I don’t see it that way. I see the way the stars reflect off one another and how it causes different hues in the sky.” She gave a small shrug. “Most of the time my work is a little more… Well, it’s not abstract, but it’s more whimsical than a true portrait.”

  “Don’t just tell him about it,” Howard suggested. “You have your portfolio with you. Why don’t you show him?”

  “Oh!” Brooke turned and took the leather case from her shoulder and laid it on the desk in front of her.

  Owen watched in fascination as she worked, noting her slender arms and the music that came from her wrists as her bracelets gently clattered together. Her long hair fell over one shoulder, and it was almost impossible to take his eyes off her.

  “I hope we’re not keeping you, Owen,” Howard said, stepping closer. “I probably should have asked you earlier about your schedule before we both sort of bombarded you like this.”

  He shook his head. “I…I don’t have anything else scheduled for this afternoon. I had planned on heading back to the hotel and doing some reading before dinner. I’ll talk with Riley later.” Howard and Owen had known each other for so long that he didn’t need to specify anything regarding his family—Howard knew all about them.

  “How’s he doing? Is he back in the studio yet?”

  “Not yet. He didn’t want to do another solo project, but getting the band back together isn’t going as smoothly as he’d hoped.”

  Hands in his pockets, Howard nodded. “That’s too bad. Still…I’m sure the time off is enjoyable. How is Savannah doing?”

  Owen smiled at the mention of his sister-in-law. “She’s doing well. She found an agent, and she’s submitting proposals for a book she’s been working on.”

  “Wonderful! Is it based on her work interviewing rock stars?”

  Beside them, Brooke straightened and gasped.

  “Are you okay, my dear?” Howard asked.

  But Brooke was looking directly at Owen. “You’re Riley Shaughnessy’s brother,” she said. It wasn’t a question but a simple statement of fact.

  A weary sigh was Owen’s immediate response. This was how it normally went—not that it happened very often. At least not to him. But he heard from his other brothers what usually occurred when a woman found out they were related to Riley. And it wasn’t as if Owen knew Brooke or was involved with her, but he braced himself for the disappointment of knowing that from this point on, she was probably only going to want to talk about his famous brother.

  And for the first time in a long time—possibly since high school—he resented his twin.

  Might as well get it over with.

  Clearing his throat, Owen nodded. “Um…yes. Riley’s my brother.”

  Brooke nodded, her smile just as sweet as it had been since she walked into the lecture hall. “How fascinating! I mean, I think it is, anyway, to see such diversity in a family.”

  And here it comes, he thought.

  “You’re both so talented but in such different occupations. Your parents must be incredibly proud of you both!” Then she turned and straightened her pictures.

  Wait…that was it? She wasn’t going to obsess or go on and on about how talented Riley was or how much she loved his latest song?

  “So let me ask you,” she began as she turned to face him, and Owen braced himself again. Now she was going to do it. Now she was going to gush. “What colors do you see when you look up at the night sky? Do you just see black, or do you see different shades of blue?”

  He stared at Brooke.

  Hard.

  And his jaw was quite possibly on the floor.

  “Owen?” Howard asked, stepping forward. “Are you all right?”

  “Oh…um. Yes. Yes. You were going to show me your paintings,” he said nervously, and he stepped forward to take a look.

  And was rendered speechless.

  Not that it was hard to do—Owen was already a man of few words—but the canvases Brooke had strewn across the desk were nothing like he was expecting.

  The colors were bold and bright, and made with large brushstrokes. He thought of Van Gogh’s painting The Starry Night and admired how she had layered the paint.

  He stepped closer to the desk, picked up the closest painting, and studied it. This one was darker—it portrayed gravitational waves—and Brooke had managed to capture all of the light and the colors, and make it feel as if you could reach into the painting and touch the stars. It was brilliant. It was compelling. It was… He put it down and picked up the next one. A shooting star. It was a little more whimsical than the previous one, but the colors were just as vibrant, and looking at it made Owen feel as if he were looking through his telescope and watching the stars fly across the night sky.

  “So what do you…?”

  He placed the painting down—ignoring Brooke’s attempt at a question—and picked up the third painting. This was the one that reminded him of Van Gogh. This had depth, texture. Owen wasn’t in the least bit artistic, but he knew what he was looking at was amazing. Gently he ran his hand over the canvas, taking in the feel of the paint, and was mesmerized. How many times had he wished he could reach out and touch the sky, to feel the heat of a star and study its contours? And standing here now, that was exactly what he felt he was doing. Unable to help himself, he looked at Brooke with wonder. “This is…amazing.” And then he wanted to curse himself because that description didn’t do her work justice.

  And yet she looked pleased.

  Relieved.

  Her hand fluttered up over her chest as she let out a happy sigh. “Thank you. I know they’re all different. I’m trying to find the style that calls to me the most and reflects how I’m feeling, but they all do. It sort of depends on the night. Does that make sense?”

  Owen had no idea if it did or it didn’t—he certainly had never tried this medium, so who was he to judge? But he was still confused. What did her artwork have to do with him? And again, as if reading his mind, Howard spoke.

  “Brooke’s favorite subject is nature—particularly the night sky and sunsets, that sort of thing. She’s been talking about wanting to go out to the desert and paint, and I immediately thought of you and the Nevada project.”

  It still didn’t make sense to him. “The Nevada project?” Owen parroted. “But…that’s to watch the meteor shower, and it’s for students and undergrads. I…I don’t understand.”

  Beside them, Brooke cleared her throat and began collecting her paintings. “I should probably let the two of you talk,” she murmured. “I thought it was already—”

  Howard cut her off. “I meant to discuss this with Owen sooner, but our schedules haven’t quite matched up. You don’t need to leave, Brooke. It’s good that you’re here and we can go over it together.”

  Nodding, she continued to put her things away and then stood back silently while her uncle e
xplained his idea.

  “I fully support Brooke’s work and her desire to experience different places to paint. But her heading off to the desert alone just isn’t practical or safe. Her mother has some…issues, and Brooke is willing to respect them for the moment. So she needs to go with a group.”

  Nodding in agreement, Owen offered a suggestion. “Perhaps she could find painters interested in doing the same thing. Make it an artist’s retreat.” That was a thing, wasn’t it?

  “I want you to hear me out, Owen. I have a proposition for you.”

  Dread sank like a lead weight in his belly.

  Acknowledgments

  A handful of years ago, before I joined the writing community, I took my first stab at drafting this story. Thankfully, as I honed my novel-writing skills in workshops and at conferences, these characters kept inviting me back into revision-land. Finally, I had a shareable manuscript. That was when the big improvements began. As they say, it takes a village…and this village has my gratitude.

  I’d like to first thank the amazing publishing team at Sourcebooks Casablanca who helped my long-held dream become a reality. This includes my talented editor, Deb Werksman, who fell in love with this project and offered the encouragement and insight needed to make it stronger, as well as her supportive team including Susie Benton, Laura Costello, and Emily Chiarelli, and my amazing publicist, Stefani Sloma.

  My heartfelt gratitude goes to my wonderful rescue-dog-loving agent, Jess Watterson, for believing in me and in this manuscript, and to Amanda Heger for her invaluable advice, encouragement, and support. Thanks to Sandy Thal for beta reading more versions of this story than there were fingers on one hand, and to my dear friends, who are too many to name individually, but who’ve read my stories and who’ve been cheerleaders throughout this journey.

  And of course my deepest appreciation goes to my family. To my mom and dad for their unlimited support. To Eldar for being the first person to believe in me when I said I wanted to write a book. And last, but never least, to my kids, Emily and Ryan, who could have found reason to doubt this dream over the years and never did. When it comes to a matchup between “the odds” and the little voice inside you, never forget which one to listen to.

  About the Author

  Debbie Burns resides in St. Louis, Missouri. A New Leash on Love is her first contemporary romance and has been a finalist in multiple contests. Her writing commendations include first-place awards for short stories, flash fiction, and longer selections from the Missouri RWA and the Missouri Writers’ Guild. You can find her on Twitter @_debbieburns, on Facebook at www.facebook.com/authordebbieburns, and at her website, www.authordebbieburns.com.

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