“Uncle Paul, you look really good in her picture,” Eric said, as he trotted up to them. “Like you’re having fun.”
Julia blew out a breath and slid from under his arm. “You might as well see it.”
She went to the front room and came back with a square canvas in her hands, its back to him. “Close your eyes,” she said.
“Bend down and I’ll cover them,” Eric said gleefully.
Paul squatted obediently while his nephew came around behind him to put his palms over his eyes. “When was the last time you washed those grubby paws?” Paul asked.
“This morning after I peed.”
Paul groaned and heard a chuckle from Julia.
“Okay, Eric, let him look.”
His nephew removed his hands, and Paul straightened before taking in the painting now displayed on the easel in front of him.
It was himself, only not the way he was anymore. This was his old self, the one who felt free to go off on any adventure that beckoned. The one who flirted with women for the sheer fun of it. The one who bought a motorcycle because no one was relying on him to keep their life out of the crapper.
This was how Julia saw him. Either he had fooled her or she wanted to believe this was her lover. A lover and an adventurer rather than the embittered ex-mayor of a small town in the sticks.
Julia waited for Paul to say something, but he stood frozen, his expression blank. He must hate it, and he was stalling so he could think of something polite to say. “It’s just for me,” she repeated. “You don’t have to worry I’ll show it to anyone else.”
“Christ,” he said hoarsely. “I want you to show it to the world.”
She swung back to look at the painting. It was a pale, flat version of the man standing in front of it. “It’s just a quick study. The motorcycle needs a lot of filling in and the shoulders are not quite in proportion.”
“You’ve made me look”—he made a frustrated gesture as though he couldn’t come up with the right words—“ready to roar off into the sunset at a moment’s notice.”
“Aren’t you?” she asked, turning back to him to catch the flash of torment that contorted his mouth. She glanced down to see Eric watching his uncle with a question in his clear blue eyes. “He’s a swashbuckler, isn’t he, Eric?”
Paul’s gaze dropped to his nephew. She saw the effort it took him to turn his grimace into the semblance of a smile. “That’s me. King of the road.”
Relief washed over the child’s face. “Will you leave your hog to me in your will?”
Julia gasped, but Paul chuckled and ruffled Eric’s hair. “Motorcycles are dangerous. You can have my ’Vette. Now sit down and get your picture painted.”
“I’m going to just draw it for now,” Julia said, grabbing a pad and a pencil before she sat on a rickety wooden chair.
Eric dragged a stool over from the counter and climbed up on it.
“Can you scoot around so you’re sideways?” Julia asked. “Now look at me.” She did a quick scan of the child’s face, working out proportions and angles, before her pencil began to move across the paper. In her peripheral vision, she saw Paul walk to the rear of the building to stand with his back to them as he stared out through the dirty glass to the weedy garden behind.
As she sketched, she tried to unravel his reaction. She’d expected amusement or a little smug preening, maybe even annoyance that she’d presumed to take his likeness without his permission. She had not anticipated the raw pain she’d seen in his eyes.
The last thing she wanted to do was stir up trouble since she knew she would be in hot water for riding Darkside. Not to mention what revelations her uncle might make.
She sighed as she blocked in the Corvette’s sleek lines and drew Eric’s elbow hanging out the open window. “You can move now. I’m just going to add some shading.”
Eric leaped off the stool and came around to peer over her shoulder. “Cool! Uncle Paul, look! She made me the driver.”
The little boy raced over to grab his uncle’s hand and pull him back to Julia. As they approached, she looked up to gauge Paul’s emotional barometer. The pain was gone, but he moved as though it took every ounce of his will to make the effort. She reversed the sketchpad and held it up for him to see.
“That’s the mighty power of the artist,” Paul said. “She can make dreams look real.”
“Eric will be in the driver’s seat before you know it.”
She decided this might be a good time to bring up her afternoon’s adventure. Paul couldn’t yell at her too much in front of Eric, and he might get over some of his anger before they were alone. Of course, he might be angrier at her for setting a bad example for his nephew. She was damned if she did and damned if she didn’t. “Speaking of being in the driver’s seat, I have some great news.”