Read Online Into The Flames (Firehouse Fourteen Book 4) by Lisa B. Kamps - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lisa B. Kamps
Ads: Link
functional furniture, unless you counted the small table next to the door. There was a small bench along the far wall, shelving storage units on either side of the sliding glass doors, and a long table shoved against the wall adjacent to the kitchen. The rest of the space was empty.
But it was anything but plain, not with the multitude of colors surrounding them. Bright splashes, dark splashes. Greens, blues, reds, yellows, oranges. Even blacks and grays. Color was everywhere, like a rainbow on steroids had exploded into a million different pieces and landed on every available surface.
There was color on the canvases scattered around the room and on the walls, propped in the corner and on easels here and there. Puddles of color on the canvas drop cloth that covered the floor. Color smeared on the long table and even on the storage units filled with brushes and paints and jars and who knew what else.
"Holy shit," Kenny repeated, amazement and disbelief clear in his lowered voice. He moved into the room, studying several pieces, a thoughtful expression on his face. He looked back at Dale and grinned. "These are actually pretty good."
"You can't be serious." Good wasn't the word that came to mind when he looked at them. He didn't know what word came to mind. Hectic. Scattered. Unfocused.
Bright. Definitely bright.
"Yeah. These are really good."
"How would you even know that?"
"I took a couple of art classes in college."
"Please don't tell me you were into painting nudes."
"No. I studied art, not painted it. Art history, art appreciation. Shit like that. It was actually pretty cool. And I'm telling you, these are pretty good."
"I'll take your word for it." Dale moved toward the door, making sure it was unlocked before he opened it. "Come on, I want to get back. I don't like the idea of Lauren being alone with Smurfette."
"Wait, hang on." Kenny moved across the room, his head tilted to the side as he studied one painting in particular. The colors were bright yet somehow muted, the brush strokes bold and defiant—except for the smear running down the middle.
That must be the painting she had been working on, the one he had somehow caused to fall over. Guilt swept through him, cold and sharp, followed by a bitter sense of loss as he studied the painting. The emotions made no sense. Maybe he had been responsible for knocking the painting over. Maybe he had hit the wall too hard.
And it was just as likely that she hadn't had the canvas propped up right, that she had somehow knocked it over herself.
Maybe. The excuse didn't sit well with him, not when it was just that: a lame excuse. He cleared his throat to get Kenny's attention. "You ready?"
"Yeah." The other man straightened then closed the distance between them. "That's a shame, I really like that one. There's something very powerful about it, even with the smear. I might offer to buy it from her anyway."
"You can't be serious."
"Why not?" Kenny looked at him, truly puzzled. Dale didn't bother to answer. He couldn't, not when he was trying to figure out why the thought of Kenny owning anything of Smurfette's sat like a slab of concrete in his gut.
Ridiculous.
He held the door open for Kenny then tested the knob once more, just to make sure it was really unlocked, before closing it. Ten seconds later they were back in his own apartment. The sight that greeted them made him stumble to a stop, his gut twisting again.
Lauren and Smurfette were sitting next to each other on the sofa, laughing at something. The sound of her laughter was music, high and tinkling, almost like crystal. Dale blinked, silently swearing when the smile on Smurfette's face faded and disappeared when she turned and saw him standing there.
He cleared his throat and tried to look away, forcing his gaze to focus on something just behind her. "Alright Smurfette, you can go home. Your door's unlocked again."
"Melanie's staying for a little longer, until we finish our wine." Lauren held up her
But it was anything but plain, not with the multitude of colors surrounding them. Bright splashes, dark splashes. Greens, blues, reds, yellows, oranges. Even blacks and grays. Color was everywhere, like a rainbow on steroids had exploded into a million different pieces and landed on every available surface.
There was color on the canvases scattered around the room and on the walls, propped in the corner and on easels here and there. Puddles of color on the canvas drop cloth that covered the floor. Color smeared on the long table and even on the storage units filled with brushes and paints and jars and who knew what else.
"Holy shit," Kenny repeated, amazement and disbelief clear in his lowered voice. He moved into the room, studying several pieces, a thoughtful expression on his face. He looked back at Dale and grinned. "These are actually pretty good."
"You can't be serious." Good wasn't the word that came to mind when he looked at them. He didn't know what word came to mind. Hectic. Scattered. Unfocused.
Bright. Definitely bright.
"Yeah. These are really good."
"How would you even know that?"
"I took a couple of art classes in college."
"Please don't tell me you were into painting nudes."
"No. I studied art, not painted it. Art history, art appreciation. Shit like that. It was actually pretty cool. And I'm telling you, these are pretty good."
"I'll take your word for it." Dale moved toward the door, making sure it was unlocked before he opened it. "Come on, I want to get back. I don't like the idea of Lauren being alone with Smurfette."
"Wait, hang on." Kenny moved across the room, his head tilted to the side as he studied one painting in particular. The colors were bright yet somehow muted, the brush strokes bold and defiant—except for the smear running down the middle.
That must be the painting she had been working on, the one he had somehow caused to fall over. Guilt swept through him, cold and sharp, followed by a bitter sense of loss as he studied the painting. The emotions made no sense. Maybe he had been responsible for knocking the painting over. Maybe he had hit the wall too hard.
And it was just as likely that she hadn't had the canvas propped up right, that she had somehow knocked it over herself.
Maybe. The excuse didn't sit well with him, not when it was just that: a lame excuse. He cleared his throat to get Kenny's attention. "You ready?"
"Yeah." The other man straightened then closed the distance between them. "That's a shame, I really like that one. There's something very powerful about it, even with the smear. I might offer to buy it from her anyway."
"You can't be serious."
"Why not?" Kenny looked at him, truly puzzled. Dale didn't bother to answer. He couldn't, not when he was trying to figure out why the thought of Kenny owning anything of Smurfette's sat like a slab of concrete in his gut.
Ridiculous.
He held the door open for Kenny then tested the knob once more, just to make sure it was really unlocked, before closing it. Ten seconds later they were back in his own apartment. The sight that greeted them made him stumble to a stop, his gut twisting again.
Lauren and Smurfette were sitting next to each other on the sofa, laughing at something. The sound of her laughter was music, high and tinkling, almost like crystal. Dale blinked, silently swearing when the smile on Smurfette's face faded and disappeared when she turned and saw him standing there.
He cleared his throat and tried to look away, forcing his gaze to focus on something just behind her. "Alright Smurfette, you can go home. Your door's unlocked again."
"Melanie's staying for a little longer, until we finish our wine." Lauren held up her
Similar Books
