15 Shades Of Pink

by Scott, Lisa

  His mother looked out the window. “Well, that’s different. No one can support themselves as a writer. You’d never have the apartment you have if you’d become a writer.” Mrs. Behr’s voice trailed off.

  Goldie nodded. “I quit the cello back in high school and have regretted it ever since. It’s still at my mother’s house. Who knows? Maybe I could’ve been a concert cellist.”

  Everyone was quiet.

  “But it’s never too late, Blake,” Goldie said. “You could write as a hobby, like I do with my art.” Goldie nodded at him, then turned around and looked at his mother. “And you could borrow my art supplies when we get up there and give it a go.”

  “Really?” His mother’s voice was so hopeful it hurt.

  Blake bounced his head on the back of the seat.

  Goldie smiled back at her. “Of course. I’m working in watercolors.”

  His mother sucked in a breath. “My favorite. I’m so glad our cruise was cancelled. This is going to be much more fun than Bermuda.”

  ***

  Blake carried in Goldie’s luggage—presumably everything she had in the world—and wondered how he was going to survive this weekend.

  A mouse scurried across the floor and he swore. “We’ll need to get some traps.”

  “Is that how you treat surprise guests who are hungry?” Goldie scolded.

  He fixed her with a stare. “Ones that eat my food without asking, yes.”

  “Sometimes unexpected houseguests are helpful Blake, don’t forget that. Now let’s just shoo this little guy outside.” She grabbed a broom leaning against the wall and chased the mouse outside.

  With his hands on his hips he shook his head. How could someone so frustrating also be so appealing? She was unlike any woman he’d ever gone out with before. Any other woman would’ve been halfway to the hardware store by now buying mousetraps. Or standing on the table, screaming. No, Goldie was finding the rodent alternative housing.

  He tried to pretend he wasn’t put out that Miss Sniggles was following Goldie everywhere, like she was the one providing the furnished room and designer doggie bed and organic dog food, the ungrateful little thing, not unlike her previous owner, Katrina. Blake hadn’t had the best luck with women, female or canine.

  “I’m going to take a dip in the lake, care to join me?” she asked Blake. It was an unseasonably warm day; one last blast of summer.

  His mother hated swimming, so that would give them plenty of time alone so he could get this damn thing back on track. Goldie was being way too cute and personable. “Sure, I’ll get changed and meet you down there.”

  He marched down to the beach, a towel wrapped around his shoulder, determined to get her out of here. He was composing the speech in his head as he spotted her splashing along the shore of the lake with three little children. Shocking, she’d made new friends already. She was probably getting their addresses so she could stay for a visit. But he couldn’t help smile as he watched her. He had to admit, part of the reason he was so annoyed with her was because she was everything he wished he were: spontaneous, carefree, friendly.

  No, Blake was all about schedules, priorities, and plans. He’d been voted Most Serious in high school and had taken it as a great badge of honor instead of the snub that it was meant to be. They’d actually created the category for him.

  He didn’t have an answer for that. He blew out a deep breath. This breakup was going to be hard on them all. Might as well enjoy the relationship while it lasted. He waved to her and she waved back, all smiles and radiant beauty. No wonder Miss Sniggles and his mother liked her. Who wouldn’t?

  She kicked up a spray of water as he walked down to her. “Belly-flop contest? You in?” She gestured to the floating dock a little ways from shore.

  He was about to launch into all the reasons he wouldn’t be doing that, when she pulled him by the hand and splashed into the water. And damn, if he didn’t squeeze her hand back.

  ***

  His stomach was still stinging from the smack of water on abs during their belly flop contest. Despite her much smaller frame, she’d somehow managed to produce a bigger splash than he did, and all the kids along the shore named her the belly-flop queen of the world.

  “So you’re the belly-flopping queen? I must get you a crown.” He scooped her up and ran into the water with her, tossing her into the lake as she shrieked in protest. She came up out of the water and sloshed back to him, and he tried his best to ignore the glistening beads of water, cascading down her cleavage, lucky droplets.

  Then she reached up, lacing her hands behind his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. Despite the warm day, she shivered in his arms as she pressed her lips against his, and he pulled her closer, keeping her wonderful mouth against his a bit longer. He didn’t know what had brought on her sudden passion, but he wasn’t arguing.

  Finally, he pulled back, looking at her face for a reaction. Did the kiss feel as good to her, too?

  She shrugged. “Just wanted to make it really convincing for your parents.” She gestured to his mom and dad standing on the shore, waving.

  His heart sank. “Right, right. Of course.” He cleared his throat. “Good call.”

  His parents leaned into each other, watching them. They’d never forgive him for breaking up with her. And he’d never forgive himself if he fell for her. He had to be careful.

  Easier said than done.

  ***

  After they got dried off and had lunch, Goldie gathered up the painting supplies.

  His mother patted his shoulder as he sat at the kitchen table trying not to watch Goldie’s luscious lips closing over a strawberry. “Come watch us, darling. You’ve never seen your mother in action.”

  Yikes, that was one way to cool off his lustful thoughts.

  After that hot, wet kiss in the lake, Blake was thinking it’d be best to put some space between him and Goldie. Watching her paint—imagining what else her fingers could do besides grip a brush—was probably a bad idea, but his mother looked more excited than the time he got her tickets to the Jiminy Shoes trunk show, so how could he say no?

  And Goldie looked pretty pleased, too.

  ***

  Goldie’s hand shook as she focused on the tree trunk growing up around a big rock. It’s not that she wasn’t used to an audience; people often stopped to watch her work when she was set up in the park. She just wasn’t used to the gaze of a hot man who made her hands tremble while he watched. Oh, and his mother and father. Zero pressure to perform.

  “That’s simply gorgeous,” his mother said. “I’d been wondering which angle of the mountain I was going to paint, and you found this interesting detail to focus on and it really captures the feeling so much more.” She shook her head. “Do you sell your work?”

  “I try. I have shows here and there.”

  “I’d love to host an exhibition at my friend’s gallery. Perhaps we can both put out a few pieces. Maybe right before the holidays?”

  Goldie’s gut twisted. She wouldn’t be with Blake for the holidays. But why spoil the mood? “Sure, that would be wonderful.”

  Blake’s mother focused on a patch of moss instead of the mountain vista, while Blake and his father flicked on a radio and listened to a football game. She blinked back tears that threatened to spill, realizing how perfect this all felt; and perfectly fake at the same time. Of course his mother was enchanted with her; she thought she was a lawyer and an artist, not someone who would need a lawyer to represent her when charged with staying in someone’s home uninvited. She could imagine the disappointment on her face if she found out.

  It would probably look quite similar to the look her mother gave her every time she came home without news of a job or a new boyfriend her mother could pin her hopes on.

  With their painting gear packed up, plans were made for dinner. They laughed and joked through a delicious meal at a fancy restaurant, trying its hardest to look like a casual old log cabin instead of a place that served thirty dollar p
asta entrees. She could feed herself for a week with pasta from the grocery store for thirty dollars. She kept forgetting in real life, they were from totally different worlds.

  But his parents had no clue. “I don’t know how you’ve gotten our son to lighten up, but you’re good for him, Nicole. I haven’t seen him smile like this in a long time,” Mrs. Behr said.

  “I think I can figure out how she manages,” his father said.

  “Ted!” His mom tried to seem horrified, but fought back a grin and playfully slapped her husband’s arm.

  Goldie looked down and knew she was blushing. “I think he just works too hard. This vacation was a nice break for him. All work and no play makes Blake a dull boy, right?”

  “Wow, Katrina was always after you to work more so you’d make partner sooner,” his mom said.

  “Life’s more than work.” Goldie shrugged.

  “You don’t want to let this one get away, son.” His father winked at him.

  Goldie ached inside realizing how nice it would feel if their words were true. She wasn’t anyone’s catch. An apartment-hopping, jobless artist? His parents would drive her right back to the city if they knew.

  With that thought, she wanted more. She was done wandering, hoping she’d find what was right for her. This was right.

  Too bad what she was doing was totally wrong.

  ***

  After dinner, his parents dropped them off at the cottage and claimed they were going out for a drink. He doubted they’d be dropping by the local saloon; there weren’t too many martini bars in this neck of the woods.

  Miss Sniggles yipped and danced at their heels as they returned. Goldie scooped her up. “Did you miss us?” Goldie asked, nuzzling her nose in the scruff of the dog’s fur.

  “Seriously, she likes you better than Katrina.”

  “Sounds like she was a winner.”

  Blake laughed. “One of my many mistakes.” Would he be making another with Goldie?

  “So, your parents probably think we’re up to no good here all alone,” she said, in a soft hopeful voice. Blake was the first to admit he could be a dolt when it came to women, but he knew desire when he heard it.

  Which is why he took her head in his hands, and walked her back against the wall, kissing her like he was about to move to Antarctica. Because really, who knew if he’d ever get the chance to do this again?

  She plopped the dog on the floor and kissed him back. “What was that for,” she asked, breathless. “I doubt your parents are peeking through the windows.”

  He shrugged. “The fresh mountain air is making me crazy, I guess.”

  What had he been thinking? Was he really interested in this nomadic artist, or was this just his subconscious saying, “Score! It’s a freebie pass for a little fun without the guilt when it’s over.”

  Either way, it was more than he could handle tonight. He couldn’t be falling for this woman. He stepped back from her. “I’m heading to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” He walked to his room without looking back so he didn’t lose his nerve.

  ***

  “When are you going to dump me?” Goldie asked two days later, as they packed their things to return to the city. They’d spent a wonderful day hiking through the forest, and then Goldie finished a few more paintings as Blake sat and watched.

  He folded his beach towel. “Oh, no. You’re dumping me. I need to be distraught and broken hearted. My mother’s so in love with you she’d hate me now if I dumped you.”

  She shook her head. “But I can’t break up with you.”

  He dropped his head back. “Goldie, you’re a great girl and a lot of fun, and you’re an amazing kisser, but I can’t have a girlfriend right now. I’m so wrapped up in my career, it’s just not fair. I’m being honest.”

  I’m an amazing kisser? She shook the idea out of her head and put her hand on her hip, tapping her toe. “I mean, your mother wouldn’t think I’d break up with you. Here’s our story: you find out I’m quitting law to pursue art, and my irresponsibility makes you wild. Why would I leave you?”

  He shrugged. “Because I demanded you keep your job.” He pointed at her. “I was unreasonable; I didn’t support you. And you got mad.”

  “But you’ve been really nice about my painting.” Miss Sniggles hopped on her lap and licked her hand. “You said my paintings were unique and thought provoking.” She’d almost cried when he said that the day before. She looked down, running a finger through the dog’s fur. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about my art.”

  “Nicer than your parents?”

  “They think it’s a waste. Just like you do. At least, that’s what you’re going to tell your mother.” Oh, it felt horrible saying that.

  He frowned. And they stopped talking about the breakup.

  ***

  Back in the city, Blake knew he should’ve gone back to work. But he told himself it was smart to stay at home to keep an eye on Goldie. Maybe she was really a thief who was going to rob him blind. Yeah, right. But instead of going back to the office, he watched her paint at the park. They took Miss Sniggles for such long walks, they ended up having to carry her. And they explored all the restaurants he’d been meaning to try. Basically, they were acting like a couple; and he liked it.

  On Friday, he was disappointed when he realized he only had three more days of vacation left. And he wasn’t looking forward to going back to the office. Not just because he wouldn’t be spending time with Goldie, but the endless work just didn’t appeal to him.

  After feeding the dog, Goldie was ready for dinner. It was ten blocks away, and normally, he would’ve hopped in a cab. But Goldie wanted to walk, and he looked forward to her observations as they strolled along. She noticed things he never saw: the strip of paper from a fortune cookie skittering along the street; a lonely button caught in the groove of the sidewalk; a balloon floating away in the sky.

  As they ambled along the sidewalk, letting people stream around them, Goldie reached for his hand and pointed across the street. “Look, a pigeon is sitting right on top of that fire hydrant. I wish I could stop and paint it.”

  Then she started swinging their hands—and he didn’t stop her. Who is this man and what has he done with Blake, he wondered.

  He looked over at Goldie, grinning at the sky, and pulled her to him, kissing her right in the middle of the sidewalk.

  When his hands started wandering down her back, he remembered they were in public, and stepped back.

  “Wow,” she said, in a husky voice. “That was unexpected. I mean you don’t kiss just anybody in the middle of the sidewalk.” Her eyes sparkled. “It’s kind of special, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  They walked in silence to the restaurant. Blake didn’t know what to say about what was happening between them. He didn’t know if it was real, or the result of their ruse.

  They ordered champagne at dinner to celebrate her art show at the bakery the next day, but neither one talked about what was going to happen Monday when he went back to work. They hadn’t talked about their impending break up in a few days.

  ***

  The next morning, Goldie had eaten more passion bread at the Naughty and Nice bakery than she cared to admit, but so far, she’d made zero sales. The bakery customers were too busy sampling the goodies, looking straight past her work.

  She rearranged the paintings one more time, hoping the new layout would catch someone’s eye. Then the bell on the door jingled and Blake and his mother walked in. Her heart kicked up, nervous that they’d be surveying her work, but also thrilled to see him again. And it had only been four hours since she left his apartment.

  Or maybe it was the passion bread kicking in.

  “Nicole, how are sales? These are beautiful,” his mother cooed, immediately drawn to one she’d painted in the park.

  “It’s been going okay,” she lied.

  Blake stood, examining at her work. “Would a few of these add a little persona
lity to my apartment?”

  She laughed. “A few paint samples would add a little personality to your apartment.”

  He tried to look angry, but she saw the corners of his mouth twitch. He strolled through the bakery checking out the paintings. She was as self-conscious as if they were nude pictures of herself hung on the wall.

  His mother picked out two of the framed paintings, and Blake hovered in front of the series she did at the cabin. He turned to her. “I want all of these you did up in the mountains.”

  Mentally doing the math, she silently squealed over the sales. But then she realized as his supposed girlfriend, she would be expected to give them to him. Truth was, she owed him. She could think of it as payment for room and board. “Oh, honey, you can just take them if you want them.” She twisted her hands behind her back.

  Shaking her head, his mother put her hand on her hip. “Nicole, real artists don’t give their work away, not even to loved ones. We’ll pay for these like your regular customers. And I simply must talk to my friend about setting up a show at her gallery. Oh, and the prince’s ball! He lives in Blake’s building and I’ve already contacted his assistant to inform him you’ll be donating a piece for his charity auction to benefit the hospital. Blake will be taking you, of course.” She gripped Goldie’s arm and lowered her voice. “You’re going to make incredible contacts there.”

  “Great idea, Mom,” Blake said.

  The bell jangled on the door again, and she was feeling lucky enough to believe she could score another sale.

  When she saw who it was, she froze; it was Gloria Midas. Her sister, Veronica, worked at the bakery. Gloria apparently liked to hang around looking for freebie cupcakes. Gloria Midas certainly wouldn’t be buying any paintings.

  Goldie had the misfortune of meeting her a few days earlier while scouting out the location for setting up her work. And Gloria had noticed the apartment sitter flyers she’d hung up as well. “I’m never going to work,” Gloria had said, inspecting the flyer. “Unless you call finding a husband work.” Then she cackled.