corner of his mouth made him dangerous. She’d always been a sucker for dimples.
He’d come up with a canvas backpack that he carried slung over one shoulder, and his suit coat and tie had disappeared. The sleeves on his white dress shirt were turned up, the top two buttons released. Despite her best intentions to resist his charm, her stomach did a little flip-flop.
“Ready?” he asked.
Sounds of laughter and music floated on the evening air, and they walked without exchanging conversation. By the time they approached the entrance of the park, Sage’s appetite had returned. “What’s for supper?”
“Turkey sandwiches.”
“Cool.”
Colt placed his hand at the small of her back and guided her toward the Active Pool, designed as a canyon lined with rushing water. Rectangular stone blocks created a staircase of viewing platforms that allowed water to travel beneath visitors who descended to the bottom pool, almost forty feet down. Nighttime lighting made the spot breathtakingly lovely. “This is nice.”
“Yeah, it is. I love the sound of rushing water. It relaxes me.” He pointed toward the lower pool. “Would you like to go down there to sit and eat, or do you prefer it up here?”
“Here is good.”
He led her around the edge of the stone canyon to aspot away from another couple and a family with two young children also enjoying the site. They sat, and he unzipped his backpack and handed her a paper-wrapped sandwich. “So, Anderson, talk to me about your work. Why fairies?”
“Why not fairies?” she fired back. “They are fun, fancy, fantasy. They play to my strengths as an artist. I get to experiment with color and motion.” She gestured toward the water spilling down the steps. “What has the architect achieved with this creation? Speaking for myself, his work inspires me. It soothes me. It speaks to my senses and it makes me smile. I’ve had people use those same words in response to my pixie paintings.”
He nodded. “I heard people say it tonight, that your work makes them smile.”
“That’s a wonderful compliment.”
“Yeah, it is. I’m not saying otherwise.”
Sage took a bite of her sandwich, then sipped from the bottle of water he’d provided. “No, you used the words okay and nice. ”
“And pretty . I said they were pretty, too.”
“Careful there, Rafferty,” she drawled. “Your effusive praise will embarrass me.”
“Hey now. For a creative person, aren’t you being a bit thin-skinned? Isn’t putting up with criticism part of the job?”
She wrinkled her nose and shrugged. “Frankly, that depends on who is doing the criticizing and whether or not I respect him.”
“Zing.” He made a show of wincing.
“Look, I will admit that finances play a part in what I do. Making one’s living as an artist requires a measure of practicality to coexist with the artistic muse. I paint what I paint now because I’m building a brand that’s been well accepted by the art world. I’d be a fool to abandon it at this point.”
“That makes sense.”
“Yes, it does,” she replied, proud of the way she’d made her points.
She took another bite of her sandwich and focused on the water cascading down the terraces and steps below her. The effect was mesmerizing, and she could feel the tensions of her day melt away. She’d enjoyed the reception. She’d been thrilled by the positive responses and sales, but being “on” wore a girl out. It was nice to sit here and share a sandwich and trade insults with a handsome man. Almost made her feel mellow. “This really is a great spot.”
“I’ll show you the rest of the gardens after we finish supper. If you’re still talking to me, that is.”
Sage gave him a sidelong look. “Are you gonna make fun of my paintings?”
“Nope. But I am going to confess that I went to the reception tonight with the thought of buying one. I’ve thought about you a lot since September. I liked the idea of having one of your
He’d come up with a canvas backpack that he carried slung over one shoulder, and his suit coat and tie had disappeared. The sleeves on his white dress shirt were turned up, the top two buttons released. Despite her best intentions to resist his charm, her stomach did a little flip-flop.
“Ready?” he asked.
Sounds of laughter and music floated on the evening air, and they walked without exchanging conversation. By the time they approached the entrance of the park, Sage’s appetite had returned. “What’s for supper?”
“Turkey sandwiches.”
“Cool.”
Colt placed his hand at the small of her back and guided her toward the Active Pool, designed as a canyon lined with rushing water. Rectangular stone blocks created a staircase of viewing platforms that allowed water to travel beneath visitors who descended to the bottom pool, almost forty feet down. Nighttime lighting made the spot breathtakingly lovely. “This is nice.”
“Yeah, it is. I love the sound of rushing water. It relaxes me.” He pointed toward the lower pool. “Would you like to go down there to sit and eat, or do you prefer it up here?”
“Here is good.”
He led her around the edge of the stone canyon to aspot away from another couple and a family with two young children also enjoying the site. They sat, and he unzipped his backpack and handed her a paper-wrapped sandwich. “So, Anderson, talk to me about your work. Why fairies?”
“Why not fairies?” she fired back. “They are fun, fancy, fantasy. They play to my strengths as an artist. I get to experiment with color and motion.” She gestured toward the water spilling down the steps. “What has the architect achieved with this creation? Speaking for myself, his work inspires me. It soothes me. It speaks to my senses and it makes me smile. I’ve had people use those same words in response to my pixie paintings.”
He nodded. “I heard people say it tonight, that your work makes them smile.”
“That’s a wonderful compliment.”
“Yeah, it is. I’m not saying otherwise.”
Sage took a bite of her sandwich, then sipped from the bottle of water he’d provided. “No, you used the words okay and nice. ”
“And pretty . I said they were pretty, too.”
“Careful there, Rafferty,” she drawled. “Your effusive praise will embarrass me.”
“Hey now. For a creative person, aren’t you being a bit thin-skinned? Isn’t putting up with criticism part of the job?”
She wrinkled her nose and shrugged. “Frankly, that depends on who is doing the criticizing and whether or not I respect him.”
“Zing.” He made a show of wincing.
“Look, I will admit that finances play a part in what I do. Making one’s living as an artist requires a measure of practicality to coexist with the artistic muse. I paint what I paint now because I’m building a brand that’s been well accepted by the art world. I’d be a fool to abandon it at this point.”
“That makes sense.”
“Yes, it does,” she replied, proud of the way she’d made her points.
She took another bite of her sandwich and focused on the water cascading down the terraces and steps below her. The effect was mesmerizing, and she could feel the tensions of her day melt away. She’d enjoyed the reception. She’d been thrilled by the positive responses and sales, but being “on” wore a girl out. It was nice to sit here and share a sandwich and trade insults with a handsome man. Almost made her feel mellow. “This really is a great spot.”
“I’ll show you the rest of the gardens after we finish supper. If you’re still talking to me, that is.”
Sage gave him a sidelong look. “Are you gonna make fun of my paintings?”
“Nope. But I am going to confess that I went to the reception tonight with the thought of buying one. I’ve thought about you a lot since September. I liked the idea of having one of your
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