Read Online Mia Found (Starting Fires Book 3) by Makenzie Smith - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Makenzie Smith
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Their styles and techniques were all different. Landscapes. People. Some completely abstract. Some plain. Some incredibly complex.
I looked over my shoulder, expecting to see Paul behind me, but he wasn’t. I peered around the store and found him by the cash register talking to an older woman. She nodded her head and he turned to look at me. With a smile, Paul waved me over. Unsure of what this was about, I slowly walked to him.
“ Mia, this is Catherine Zulu,” he said when I approached. “She’s the owner.”
“ Hello,” I said, meekly.
“ Lovely to meet you,” she said, smiling.
“ Cat is interested in seeing your paintings,” Paul told me. “Do you have any pictures?”
“ Uh, yeah. I mean, yes, yes I do.” Nervously, I pulled my phone out of my pocket. I was always hesitant to show people pictures of my work, afraid they’d hate it. I didn’t want to feel rejected, and it occurred so often I’d started to believe no one would ever like my art. Paul put a reassuring arm around my waist as I gave her my phone, the camera roll displayed on the screen.
Her eyes narrowed and her lips puckered as she swiped her finger, inspecting each one of them. A knot formed in my throat and I swallowed, hating this feeling. My hands began fiddling. I was messing with my hair and awkward on my feet.
Paul leaned into me and gave my hip a reassuring squeeze. “They’re beautiful,” he whispered into my ear and kissed me softly on the head. Immediately, the tension left me and I relaxed into his side.
“ How much?” Catherine suddenly asked.
“ For…?”
“ For the paintings,” she said. “I have room on my wall for at least three. If they sell well, I’ll buy more.”
“ You want to buy them? You want to buy my paintings?”
Catherine chuckled. “Yes, dearie. If the price is right. I’ll tack on my seller’s fee of course, but I think these will sell. I’ll buy more when they do.”
If they do.
I hadn’t ever thought of pricing my paintings. It had never went this far. “Um…” I said, uncertain.
“ Which ones do you want?” Paul interjected. “That will make a difference.”
“ Of course,” Catherine said. I pulled the pictures up for her again and watched as she picked her three. One of a girl free falling backwards—her hair danced around her face; her dress was made of red and black chaotic brush strokes. Another where the woman’s face was clear and focused—blues and greens dancing on the canvas. She looked sad, as if she’d been crying. The last was the one of my hand intertwined with Paul’s.
“ That one isn’t for sale,” I rushed out, wanting to keep it.
“ Oh,” she said. “Well, how about this one?”
It was one of my plainer pieces. The silhouette of a woman, giant birds flying around her. The birds and woman were all black with splotches of different colored paint scattered around the canvas.
“ Okay,” I said.
She stared at me, waiting for something. Paul gave my side a rub.
“ How about $100 for the birds, $150 for the blue, and $200 for the red,” he said.
My eyebrows shot up. That sounded way too high.
“ Sounds perfect,” she said. “Bring them by this week and I’ll have a check and contract ready.”
“ Thank you,” I said, and trailed after Paul as we left the store.
Outside, I stopped moving and stared at him.
Sensing it, he turned back. “What?” he asked.
No one had ever done something like this for me. It was out of my comfort zone and I was too self-conscious to do it for myself. Now, my paintings would be on display for people to see. Even if no one bought them, it made me feel proud.
I rushed him, wrapping my arms around his neck. Before he could even say anything, I firmly planted my lips on his. I kissed him with passion, with love, and with thanks.
He was dazed when I pulled away.
“ Thank you so much,” I said. “It’s the best surprise anyone has ever given me.”
“ It was nothing,” he said, biting his lip
I looked over my shoulder, expecting to see Paul behind me, but he wasn’t. I peered around the store and found him by the cash register talking to an older woman. She nodded her head and he turned to look at me. With a smile, Paul waved me over. Unsure of what this was about, I slowly walked to him.
“ Mia, this is Catherine Zulu,” he said when I approached. “She’s the owner.”
“ Hello,” I said, meekly.
“ Lovely to meet you,” she said, smiling.
“ Cat is interested in seeing your paintings,” Paul told me. “Do you have any pictures?”
“ Uh, yeah. I mean, yes, yes I do.” Nervously, I pulled my phone out of my pocket. I was always hesitant to show people pictures of my work, afraid they’d hate it. I didn’t want to feel rejected, and it occurred so often I’d started to believe no one would ever like my art. Paul put a reassuring arm around my waist as I gave her my phone, the camera roll displayed on the screen.
Her eyes narrowed and her lips puckered as she swiped her finger, inspecting each one of them. A knot formed in my throat and I swallowed, hating this feeling. My hands began fiddling. I was messing with my hair and awkward on my feet.
Paul leaned into me and gave my hip a reassuring squeeze. “They’re beautiful,” he whispered into my ear and kissed me softly on the head. Immediately, the tension left me and I relaxed into his side.
“ How much?” Catherine suddenly asked.
“ For…?”
“ For the paintings,” she said. “I have room on my wall for at least three. If they sell well, I’ll buy more.”
“ You want to buy them? You want to buy my paintings?”
Catherine chuckled. “Yes, dearie. If the price is right. I’ll tack on my seller’s fee of course, but I think these will sell. I’ll buy more when they do.”
If they do.
I hadn’t ever thought of pricing my paintings. It had never went this far. “Um…” I said, uncertain.
“ Which ones do you want?” Paul interjected. “That will make a difference.”
“ Of course,” Catherine said. I pulled the pictures up for her again and watched as she picked her three. One of a girl free falling backwards—her hair danced around her face; her dress was made of red and black chaotic brush strokes. Another where the woman’s face was clear and focused—blues and greens dancing on the canvas. She looked sad, as if she’d been crying. The last was the one of my hand intertwined with Paul’s.
“ That one isn’t for sale,” I rushed out, wanting to keep it.
“ Oh,” she said. “Well, how about this one?”
It was one of my plainer pieces. The silhouette of a woman, giant birds flying around her. The birds and woman were all black with splotches of different colored paint scattered around the canvas.
“ Okay,” I said.
She stared at me, waiting for something. Paul gave my side a rub.
“ How about $100 for the birds, $150 for the blue, and $200 for the red,” he said.
My eyebrows shot up. That sounded way too high.
“ Sounds perfect,” she said. “Bring them by this week and I’ll have a check and contract ready.”
“ Thank you,” I said, and trailed after Paul as we left the store.
Outside, I stopped moving and stared at him.
Sensing it, he turned back. “What?” he asked.
No one had ever done something like this for me. It was out of my comfort zone and I was too self-conscious to do it for myself. Now, my paintings would be on display for people to see. Even if no one bought them, it made me feel proud.
I rushed him, wrapping my arms around his neck. Before he could even say anything, I firmly planted my lips on his. I kissed him with passion, with love, and with thanks.
He was dazed when I pulled away.
“ Thank you so much,” I said. “It’s the best surprise anyone has ever given me.”
“ It was nothing,” he said, biting his lip
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