“I’m going to check on Riley.” April pushed past him and headed for the side door.

Blue gulped. She was getting ready to paint a kitchen with Jack Patriot. Her life got more bizarre by the minute.

Chapter Fourteen

When Dean got back that afternoon, he discovered Jack and April silently painting opposite walls of his kitchen while Coldplay blared in the background. Bright yellow paint splattered April from head to toe, but Jack had only a few smears on his hands. Until yesterday, Dean had never seen the two of them together. Now they were painting his fucking kitchen.

He stalked off to find Blue. On the way, he pulled out his BlackBerry to check his messages. April had sent the latest ten minutes ago.

We only have a gallon of yellow paint left. Go buy more.

He found Blue in the dining room, working on the ceiling. She looked like a pocket-size Bo Peep with a paint roller in her hand. Her splattered green T-shirt hung nearly to her hips, covering up the trim body she was determined to hide from him. Not for long, however. He jabbed his thumb toward the kitchen. “What’s going on in there?”

“Exactly what it looks like.” The plastic drop cloth rustled under her feet as she moved a few steps to the side. “Fortunately, Jack knows his way around a paintbrush, but I’ve had to watch April like a hawk.”

“Why didn’t you stop them?”

“Until that wedding ring is on my finger, I don’t have any real authority here.” She set down the roller and studied the longest wall. “April wants me to paint a mural.”

She didn’t sound happy about it, but he liked the idea of Blue painting a mural a hell of a lot better than he liked having his parents painting his kitchen. It would also keep her in place for a while longer. “I’ll have my PR people send you a dozen of my best action shots,” he said. “You can pick the most flattering.”

She smiled as he’d hoped, but then the furrow between her eyebrows crept deeper. “I don’t do landscapes anymore.”

“Too bad.” He opened his wallet and pulled out two hundred dollars in cash. “Here’s the hundred dollars I borrowed plus the other hundred from that ill-advised bet. I believe in clearing up my debts.”

As he expected, she didn’t leap to take the money but studied it instead.

“A deal’s a deal,” he said, all innocence. “You earned it.” When she still didn’t take it, he slipped the bills into the pocket of her saggy T-shirt, lingering only a moment longer than necessary. She might not have a whole lot there, but she had enough for him. Now all he needed was unlimited access.