CHAPTER 10
Sex.
It’s all consuming and a sure-fire way to not think about anything else. Too bad there are three hours of silent modeling before that. Sitting still with nothing to do but think isn’t the best thing right now. At the start of class, Nate tells everyone this will be the last week with me as the model.
“Miss Hill will be working elsewhere, which means you need to finish up any work requiring her tonight.” Nate is trying to hide his disposition, but I can tell he’s excited. “Next week we’ll move to critiques, so you’ll want to have your paintings close to completion before then. The classroom will be open for you during the week so you can work outside of class as well.”
Emily is wearing a dog collar around her neck. The glint of the silver catches my eye when she moves. She never asked how she got home that night from the bar. I never volunteered that it was Nate either. Emily clears her throat and speaks, keeping her face glued to her sketchpad, eyes trained on a single point in the upper corner. “So next week we get to rip apart each other’s work.”
Nate had just passed by her and rounds on her. “No. Listen, critiquing isn’t crapping all over someone’s work. It has a purpose. It’s a peer review system that allows you to consider things you might have missed. Next week, everyone will offer praise for things they like and constructive advice on what could be better, because that’s what we’re all chasing, isn’t it? Every artist wants to know how to improve and refine their work enough to reach the next level. It’s not a social snubbing or community backstabbing. There’s enough of that shit going on without it taking root in here too.”
Emily looks impressed. “Sounds good, then.”
Nate nods in agreement. “Right. I’ll be passing by and checking your progress, making suggestions. If you have specific questions, please ask.”
Nate stops at each desk, studies the drawing and speaks with each student.
I stop listening, spending my time replaying the meeting with Ferro over and over again in my mind instead. First Peter, then his father. I’m missing something. It seemed like Peter was here to offer an olive branch, but then his dad went for the jugular. That house means everything to Nate. I seriously doubt he’ll sell out so they can flush oil out of the ground.
I’m left to ponder for the rest of the class, and I wonder what it is that drew me to Nate in the first place. This isn’t my battle, but somehow I’m in the middle of it. It wasn’t just to be nice, and no matter how much I don’t want another relationship, I seem to be in one.
I wasn’t duped. I’m here by choice. I just need to figure out how to hold on tight, because the ride is about to get bumpy.
CHAPTER 11
I cut the engine to the bus and walk down the stairs. The raccoon—I need to name him since he doesn’t appear interested in relocating to a different burnt out vehicle—runs between my ankles and darts off toward the neighbor's trash cans, hissing as his big booty bounces away into the night.
When I get to the front porch, Nate pulls open the door. He’s wearing the same outfit from earlier, the tight t-shirt and jeans. The sweater is gone. His feet are bare, and there’s a heavy dusting of stubble on his cheeks. He’s beautiful.
As I approach him, an awkward feeling slinks down my spine. I’ve never gone to a guy for a booty call before. This is weird. Sex usually just happens. It’s not planned like this. I feel my lips twisting in time with my stomach as I try to act casual. I can do this.
The garbage cans at the curb down the block suddenly ring out like a gong. We both glance down there and see a raccoon pawing through the trash under the streetlight. Nate gives me a look. “Is that your pet?”
“No, he came with the bus.”
Nate glances at the yellow bus and tries not to laugh. “Got it. Rabid raccoon was nesting in the classy vehicle.” His lips tug up then go straight a few times before he starts to laugh.
“Don’t ask about the bus. You don’t want to know.”
“Was that on purpose?” He points at it.
“God, no! Who would intentionally buy a bus?” I make a face and shove past him into the house. Now he’s laughing harder.
Nate shuts the front door and follows me into the kitchen where I put my purse on the counter. The awkwardness melts with the sound of his laughter.
“I thought you were a little crazy.”
“Bus crazy is WAY crazy. Not to be confused with slightly nuts. There’s a big difference.” I slide up on the kitchen table and dangle my legs off the side. I’m wearing a pair of $5 jeans and a $3 t-shirt, both triple clearance items from Sears. My hair is in a ponytail, and I’m finally not wearing sweats in front of this guy.
He seems to notice the new clothes. “I like this.” He comes over to the table, stopping in front of me, keeping a space between us.
“I went shopping.”
“I remember.” A sexy grin plays across his lips.
“Ah, yes, well, that particular outfit was returned so I could afford to buy pants and such.”
“And such?” He places his hands on the table on either side of my hips and leans in. “What would that entail?”