Second Chance Girl
Page 39
Theirs were the only two cars, which meant he was probably alone—if she didn’t count Sophie. And for all her quirks, the little beagle seemed to be trustworthy. Carol told herself she was a fool, then got out of her Jeep and walked into the studio.
Sophie jumped up from her dog bed and raced over for a greeting. Mathias sat at his desk, several large pieces of paper in front of him. Carol moved closer, hoping to see a sketch of some other Millie-inspired art but he seemed to be working on a design for a vase.
He glanced up and smiled at her. “Hi. You’re a surprise.”
Good or bad? Not that she would ask. When it came to Mathias, she was chronically lacking in courage. Why was that? Yes, he was good-looking and funny and successful and a bit of a man whore, but so what? She was...
When nothing came to mind, Carol decided to deal with that problem later.
“I’m having zoning issues,” she said, picking the first topic that came to mind. “I don’t suppose you know anyone in government who could help me?”
He leaned back in his chair and chuckled. “As a matter of fact, I do.” He waved her into the visitor’s seat. “Mayor Marsha, California’s longest serving mayor. In Fool’s Gold,” he added.
“I knew she wasn’t the mayor of Happily Inc and while I appreciate the offer, I’m not sure a small-town mayor is the answer.”
“Have a little faith.” His tone was teasing. “Mayor Marsha knows all and is friends with everyone. I wouldn’t be surprised if she could get the president on the phone. Let me know what you need and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you,” she said, trying not to sound doubtful.
“You’ll see and you’ll be impressed.”
She already was, but that had nothing to do with his governmental connections.
“I went to see Ronan,” she said. “He helped me pick out a piece.”
“Which one did you get?”
She described the crane.
“That’s a good one,” Mathias told her. “He hasn’t done many birds and it will appeal to a lot of international buyers.”
“That’s what he said. Why?”
“Cranes are considered good luck in many cultures, which means corporate and hotel buyers will be interested, along with individual collectors.”
“A whole world I knew nothing about.”
“What I know about cows wouldn’t fill a Post-it.”
“You’re doing all this work for Millie, yet you continue to insult her. We’re all confused.”
“Teasing is a sign of affection. I thought you knew that.” One corner of his mouth turned up. “I’ve always had a thing for leggy, brown-eyed girls. I thought you knew that, too.”
In her head, Carol knew he was referring to the giraffe. But in her swooning heart, she had other hopes and dreams. She was a brown-eyed girl, too, and while no one would call her leggy...
Such foolishness, she told herself, then squashed the cringe-worthy feelings by remembering what Ronan had told her.
She picked up a pencil, then put it down. “I need to ask you something.”
“Sure. What?”
She hesitated. “I guess it’s not a question so much as a...” She looked at him. “Ronan said your dad would be at the wedding.”
Nothing about Mathias’s expression changed. “That would be my guess, too, what with Del getting married. Mom mentioned they were going to be here to reclaim Sophie and they’re staying with me.”
The beagle raised her head and wagged her tail when she heard her name.
“He thought that might be a problem for you.”
Emotions flashed through his eyes, but they were gone before Carol could figure out what they were. She knew he had to be feeling something, but what? Annoyance? Anger? Concern?
“My dad’s a difficult guy,” he admitted. “Everywhere he goes, it’s always about him.” He flashed her a smile. “Don’t worry, I’m immune to his drama.”
“Were you always?”
“No. There was a time he could destroy me with a word. He ruled all of us through fear and intimidation.” He shook his head. “I take that back. He ruled Nick, Ronan and me that way, but he pretty much ignored Del and Aidan.”
“The non-artists?”
“Yeah. If you couldn’t create, you didn’t have value.”
She understood not feeling special, but her parents had always worked so hard to make her and Violet feel as if they were the most important parts of their lives.
“Why would he do that?”
“Pride, maybe. Sometimes I tell myself he’s the one who was scared. Of us. Of what we could be.”
He ran his fingers across the paper, outlining the shape of the bowl. “I used to do pieces like Ronan, back when I was a kid. I’d learn a new technique and stay up all night to put it into action. I wanted to be the best, to be like my dad.” He glanced at her. “We all did. To hear him praise a piece was food for a month.”
“Because praise was hard to come by?”
“Nearly impossible. He was a big believer in finding fault. For a while I thought it was because he wanted to make sure we were the best—like he was. But after a while I began to realize that there was some fear there, too.”
“He didn’t want his sons to be better than him.”
His gaze settled on her face. “You’re insightful today.”
“I’m insightful every day.”
He chuckled. “Yes, you are.” The humor faded. “Dad can be difficult. In the end it was easier not to fight with him.”
She thought about what Ronan had told her but didn’t want to admit all that she knew. It was too much like violating Mathias’s privacy or something.
“I saw what you did with the Millie piece. You should do more of that.”
“Giving me career advice?” he asked, his voice teasing.
“I wouldn’t do that, it’s just so extraordinary. You have a gift. But what do I know—maybe working like that doesn’t make you happy.”
He was quiet for a second before saying, “It’s complicated.”
She was sure that was true. All families were complex, but his more than most. There was the fact that his father was a world-famous artist, his relationships with his brothers, especially Ronan not being his twin anymore. She didn’t know the whole story, but she’d gotten bits and pieces of it when Natalie and Pallas discussed the Mitchells at their girlfriend get-togethers.
“Hey,” he said as he grabbed her hand. “Quit worrying about me. I’m fine.”
His fingertips grazed her palm. She felt the light touch all the way down to her toes, which wasn’t nearly as interesting as the tingling that started low in her belly. A kind of swirling, moving heat eased through her until she would have sworn the room temperature had just climbed about fifty degrees. Her throat went dry, her heart started to pound and all she could think was how much she—
“Well, damn,” he muttered before standing, then pulling her to her feet. Before she could figure out what he was doing, he’d drawn her close and settled his mouth on hers.
He tasted faintly of coffee and mint. His lips were firm, but not demanding, as if he had all the time in the world. As if he liked this part a lot.
She rested her hands on his broad shoulders and felt the warmth of his skin through his shirt. He was strong and steady, she thought. Funny, kind. Look how he’d accepted Sophie into his life, even though he hadn’t wanted to. He was a good guy who kissed like a dream.
Sophie jumped up from her dog bed and raced over for a greeting. Mathias sat at his desk, several large pieces of paper in front of him. Carol moved closer, hoping to see a sketch of some other Millie-inspired art but he seemed to be working on a design for a vase.
He glanced up and smiled at her. “Hi. You’re a surprise.”
Good or bad? Not that she would ask. When it came to Mathias, she was chronically lacking in courage. Why was that? Yes, he was good-looking and funny and successful and a bit of a man whore, but so what? She was...
When nothing came to mind, Carol decided to deal with that problem later.
“I’m having zoning issues,” she said, picking the first topic that came to mind. “I don’t suppose you know anyone in government who could help me?”
He leaned back in his chair and chuckled. “As a matter of fact, I do.” He waved her into the visitor’s seat. “Mayor Marsha, California’s longest serving mayor. In Fool’s Gold,” he added.
“I knew she wasn’t the mayor of Happily Inc and while I appreciate the offer, I’m not sure a small-town mayor is the answer.”
“Have a little faith.” His tone was teasing. “Mayor Marsha knows all and is friends with everyone. I wouldn’t be surprised if she could get the president on the phone. Let me know what you need and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you,” she said, trying not to sound doubtful.
“You’ll see and you’ll be impressed.”
She already was, but that had nothing to do with his governmental connections.
“I went to see Ronan,” she said. “He helped me pick out a piece.”
“Which one did you get?”
She described the crane.
“That’s a good one,” Mathias told her. “He hasn’t done many birds and it will appeal to a lot of international buyers.”
“That’s what he said. Why?”
“Cranes are considered good luck in many cultures, which means corporate and hotel buyers will be interested, along with individual collectors.”
“A whole world I knew nothing about.”
“What I know about cows wouldn’t fill a Post-it.”
“You’re doing all this work for Millie, yet you continue to insult her. We’re all confused.”
“Teasing is a sign of affection. I thought you knew that.” One corner of his mouth turned up. “I’ve always had a thing for leggy, brown-eyed girls. I thought you knew that, too.”
In her head, Carol knew he was referring to the giraffe. But in her swooning heart, she had other hopes and dreams. She was a brown-eyed girl, too, and while no one would call her leggy...
Such foolishness, she told herself, then squashed the cringe-worthy feelings by remembering what Ronan had told her.
She picked up a pencil, then put it down. “I need to ask you something.”
“Sure. What?”
She hesitated. “I guess it’s not a question so much as a...” She looked at him. “Ronan said your dad would be at the wedding.”
Nothing about Mathias’s expression changed. “That would be my guess, too, what with Del getting married. Mom mentioned they were going to be here to reclaim Sophie and they’re staying with me.”
The beagle raised her head and wagged her tail when she heard her name.
“He thought that might be a problem for you.”
Emotions flashed through his eyes, but they were gone before Carol could figure out what they were. She knew he had to be feeling something, but what? Annoyance? Anger? Concern?
“My dad’s a difficult guy,” he admitted. “Everywhere he goes, it’s always about him.” He flashed her a smile. “Don’t worry, I’m immune to his drama.”
“Were you always?”
“No. There was a time he could destroy me with a word. He ruled all of us through fear and intimidation.” He shook his head. “I take that back. He ruled Nick, Ronan and me that way, but he pretty much ignored Del and Aidan.”
“The non-artists?”
“Yeah. If you couldn’t create, you didn’t have value.”
She understood not feeling special, but her parents had always worked so hard to make her and Violet feel as if they were the most important parts of their lives.
“Why would he do that?”
“Pride, maybe. Sometimes I tell myself he’s the one who was scared. Of us. Of what we could be.”
He ran his fingers across the paper, outlining the shape of the bowl. “I used to do pieces like Ronan, back when I was a kid. I’d learn a new technique and stay up all night to put it into action. I wanted to be the best, to be like my dad.” He glanced at her. “We all did. To hear him praise a piece was food for a month.”
“Because praise was hard to come by?”
“Nearly impossible. He was a big believer in finding fault. For a while I thought it was because he wanted to make sure we were the best—like he was. But after a while I began to realize that there was some fear there, too.”
“He didn’t want his sons to be better than him.”
His gaze settled on her face. “You’re insightful today.”
“I’m insightful every day.”
He chuckled. “Yes, you are.” The humor faded. “Dad can be difficult. In the end it was easier not to fight with him.”
She thought about what Ronan had told her but didn’t want to admit all that she knew. It was too much like violating Mathias’s privacy or something.
“I saw what you did with the Millie piece. You should do more of that.”
“Giving me career advice?” he asked, his voice teasing.
“I wouldn’t do that, it’s just so extraordinary. You have a gift. But what do I know—maybe working like that doesn’t make you happy.”
He was quiet for a second before saying, “It’s complicated.”
She was sure that was true. All families were complex, but his more than most. There was the fact that his father was a world-famous artist, his relationships with his brothers, especially Ronan not being his twin anymore. She didn’t know the whole story, but she’d gotten bits and pieces of it when Natalie and Pallas discussed the Mitchells at their girlfriend get-togethers.
“Hey,” he said as he grabbed her hand. “Quit worrying about me. I’m fine.”
His fingertips grazed her palm. She felt the light touch all the way down to her toes, which wasn’t nearly as interesting as the tingling that started low in her belly. A kind of swirling, moving heat eased through her until she would have sworn the room temperature had just climbed about fifty degrees. Her throat went dry, her heart started to pound and all she could think was how much she—
“Well, damn,” he muttered before standing, then pulling her to her feet. Before she could figure out what he was doing, he’d drawn her close and settled his mouth on hers.
He tasted faintly of coffee and mint. His lips were firm, but not demanding, as if he had all the time in the world. As if he liked this part a lot.
She rested her hands on his broad shoulders and felt the warmth of his skin through his shirt. He was strong and steady, she thought. Funny, kind. Look how he’d accepted Sophie into his life, even though he hadn’t wanted to. He was a good guy who kissed like a dream.
