porch.
“Ready to see your new home?”
“Yeah. Clay, you’re sure?”
“I’m positive. Let’s get you settled inside. It’s nearly supper time.”
The wind buffeted the leaves around the yard as he helped her from the truck. His gentlemanly conduct shouldn’t have taken her by surprise. Clay and Del’s parents had taught them good manners. Twelve years of disregard by her husband was going to take a while to undo. As they approached the house, she stopped to take in the burnished bronze sculpture on the porch. It was a fanciful rendition of a mythical phoenix bird, rising from a fiery nest of flames.
“Wow.”
“Not what you were expecting?”
“Actually, I would’ve expected a Western sculpture of a cowboy or horse or something more…”
“Masculine?” he asked with a guarded tone.
She swung her head sharply to look at him, arching an eyebrow. “That’s so not the word I was looking for. There’s nothing remotely ‘girly’ about this creation. I meant something more in keeping with the surroundings. Texan. Western.” At his nod she continued. “That is a decidedly triumphant portrayal.”
The words surprised her as they came from her mouth. She hadn’t given any thought to art, sculpture, or visually pleasing objects in…forever. In college, she’d studied art and had a budding portrait photography business that had kept her in spending money and taken some of the burden off her parents. It had never gone anywhere, but she’d always enjoyed working with subjects and composing pictures. This statue was a work of art, and she almost couldn’t believe he’d left it on his porch.
Caressing the hip-high statue she asked, “Is this bronze?”
“Yes,” he replied as he unlocked the front door. He looked back at her and seemed focused on the way she stroked the statue, some indefinable emotion in his eyes before he lowered his lids and turned away. His gaze made her insides warm up and she was reminded that when she crossed that threshold she was officially the roommate of a desirable, creative, very masculine man.
“Why is it on your front porch? It’s magnificent. Where did you get it?”
A crooked, but obviously pleased, smile crossed his lips as he hung his keys on the hook by the door. “I sculpted it. It’s one I did a couple of years ago. It seems to fit out here and the thing is so damned heavy nobody would want to steal it. If you like it that much I’ll move it inside. You can even have it, for your new home if you want it.”
She couldn’t help but gawk at him as she stepped over the threshold. “Really? I can?”
“Sure. Consider it your housewarming gift.”
“But it must’ve taken a long time to create. It’s probably very valuable. I don’t want to…”
Clay shrugged. “I can see that you really like it, so as it turns out, I made it for you . I always wondered why I created such a fantasy-oriented piece. It was for you, no strings attached.” The satisfied look on his face told her that he’d made up his mind about it.
No strings attached . When was the last time Lily had received a kindness from anyone but her father with no strings attached? She pressed her lips together and put her hand over her mouth, resisting the urge to cry as he held out his arms, a soft, commiserating smile on his face. The look in his eyes changed to gentle concern as she went into his embrace.
“It’s going to be okay,” he murmured against her hair as she struggled with her emotions. His deep, comforting voice made her want to stay in his arms for…a year.
She’d already cried all over him several times in the last few days and was determined to get beyond this stage in her recovery. He undermined her attempts at sucking it up with that gentle look in his eyes and his stealthy flirtatious ways. Lily imagined that any woman would be putty in his hands. That thought brought the tattoo to mind, and he allowed it when she drew away from him.
“Your things are all in
“Ready to see your new home?”
“Yeah. Clay, you’re sure?”
“I’m positive. Let’s get you settled inside. It’s nearly supper time.”
The wind buffeted the leaves around the yard as he helped her from the truck. His gentlemanly conduct shouldn’t have taken her by surprise. Clay and Del’s parents had taught them good manners. Twelve years of disregard by her husband was going to take a while to undo. As they approached the house, she stopped to take in the burnished bronze sculpture on the porch. It was a fanciful rendition of a mythical phoenix bird, rising from a fiery nest of flames.
“Wow.”
“Not what you were expecting?”
“Actually, I would’ve expected a Western sculpture of a cowboy or horse or something more…”
“Masculine?” he asked with a guarded tone.
She swung her head sharply to look at him, arching an eyebrow. “That’s so not the word I was looking for. There’s nothing remotely ‘girly’ about this creation. I meant something more in keeping with the surroundings. Texan. Western.” At his nod she continued. “That is a decidedly triumphant portrayal.”
The words surprised her as they came from her mouth. She hadn’t given any thought to art, sculpture, or visually pleasing objects in…forever. In college, she’d studied art and had a budding portrait photography business that had kept her in spending money and taken some of the burden off her parents. It had never gone anywhere, but she’d always enjoyed working with subjects and composing pictures. This statue was a work of art, and she almost couldn’t believe he’d left it on his porch.
Caressing the hip-high statue she asked, “Is this bronze?”
“Yes,” he replied as he unlocked the front door. He looked back at her and seemed focused on the way she stroked the statue, some indefinable emotion in his eyes before he lowered his lids and turned away. His gaze made her insides warm up and she was reminded that when she crossed that threshold she was officially the roommate of a desirable, creative, very masculine man.
“Why is it on your front porch? It’s magnificent. Where did you get it?”
A crooked, but obviously pleased, smile crossed his lips as he hung his keys on the hook by the door. “I sculpted it. It’s one I did a couple of years ago. It seems to fit out here and the thing is so damned heavy nobody would want to steal it. If you like it that much I’ll move it inside. You can even have it, for your new home if you want it.”
She couldn’t help but gawk at him as she stepped over the threshold. “Really? I can?”
“Sure. Consider it your housewarming gift.”
“But it must’ve taken a long time to create. It’s probably very valuable. I don’t want to…”
Clay shrugged. “I can see that you really like it, so as it turns out, I made it for you . I always wondered why I created such a fantasy-oriented piece. It was for you, no strings attached.” The satisfied look on his face told her that he’d made up his mind about it.
No strings attached . When was the last time Lily had received a kindness from anyone but her father with no strings attached? She pressed her lips together and put her hand over her mouth, resisting the urge to cry as he held out his arms, a soft, commiserating smile on his face. The look in his eyes changed to gentle concern as she went into his embrace.
“It’s going to be okay,” he murmured against her hair as she struggled with her emotions. His deep, comforting voice made her want to stay in his arms for…a year.
She’d already cried all over him several times in the last few days and was determined to get beyond this stage in her recovery. He undermined her attempts at sucking it up with that gentle look in his eyes and his stealthy flirtatious ways. Lily imagined that any woman would be putty in his hands. That thought brought the tattoo to mind, and he allowed it when she drew away from him.
“Your things are all in
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