Shay’s mouth worked as if she were struggling to form the words she wanted. “I don’t know if it’s such a good idea.”

I reached out and squeezed her hand. “I’ll be with you. And I honestly think the more normally you live your life, the less people will ask questions. And you’re the master of vague answers if they do pry.”

Her lips curved, drawing my attention. My gut tightened. We were close. Just a few feet away. I could lean over and close that distance, sink into that gorgeous mouth, lose myself. Shay cleared her throat. “I’ll think about it. That good enough?”

I shook myself out of the stupor she had me in. “It’s a start.” And I wouldn’t stop asking.

With one last flick of the wrist, it was done. I stepped back from the canvas, surveying the image in front of me. Closer. Not quite there yet but closer to the image in my mind. It was another of Shay. This one was of her on the beach. The waves were crashing in around her, trying to take her out to sea, but her arms were outstretched, creating a sort of forcefield that kept the water from stealing her away. It was her power and strength and sheer force of will. But there was darkness, too. Swirling around her. Doubts. Fears. The ugly voices that I got a sense had a pretty powerful hold on the woman I’d become fascinated with.

I studied the curves and the sharp edges. The battle taking place in the image. It was the best thing I’d painted in months. Progress. I still ended up with a few destroyed canvases each week, but I was finishing more projects, too. And they seemed to be morphing into something a little different than my past work. I couldn’t put my finger on how exactly, but I liked the direction things were moving.

I peeled off my gloves and tossed them in the trash, then set my mask down. Just as I was about to head for the kitchen for a snack, an incoming call sounded from my laptop. I strode to my desk and hit accept. Carson’s face filled the screen. “You bastard.”

He’d said it smiling, but my brows still pulled together. “Right back at you.”

“You’ve been holding back on me.”

“What are you talking about?”

Carson moved around his studio space as we talked, large sculptures appearing and disappearing in the background as he went. “You said you were struggling. Barely finishing anything.”

“I was. I mean, things are a bit better now. I’m finally getting in a groove—”

“I saw that piece Lara’s putting up for auction this weekend. I’d say you’ve more than found your groove. You’re moving into a whole new era of work. It’s different from your other stuff. More alive somehow.”