too.
Unbelievably, he managed to keep quiet for the next half hour. I stole the occasional glance, surprised each time to see him actually drawing. By the time I’d finished my picture, I was desperate to see his.
“Finished?” I asked.
“No,” he huffed, feigning annoyance. “Be quiet and let me draw.”
I gave him a few more minutes, but was soon at the point of exploding. I stood up and walked over to his rock. The second I reached him, he flipped his pad shut and stood up, holding it high out of my reach.
“Show me,” I ordered.
He narrowed his eyes, holding his sketchpad against his chest. “Show me yours first.”
I handed it to him.
“Do you even know how clever you are?” he asked, alternating glances between the picture in his hand and me.
I could feel the heat of embarrassment burning my cheeks. “Show me yours.”
“Are you sure you want to see it? I don’t want you to feel inferior.”
I snatched the sketchpad from him so quickly that he nearly lost his grip on mine. I spun around out of his reach so I could check out his drawing.
He wasn’t kidding when he mentioned stick figures. He’d drawn something that almost resembled a person – female I think. She had stick figure boobs. It had taken him forty-five minutes to draw stick figure boobs.
“Well?” he asked. “Don’t leave me hanging.”
I spun back to face him. “Is it a person?”
He dropped his head. “It’s a woman. A beautiful coppery haired French woman,” he explained theatrically. “If you’d given me coloured pencils, it would’ve been obvious.”
I matched his laugh with one of my own. “Is it me?”
Alex stalked over to me and pulled the sketchbook from my grasp. He dropped both books down on the rock behind me and drew me in close. “You told me to draw something beautiful,” he murmured against my mouth. “I don’t think I did you justice.”
I stretched up, linked my arms around his neck and kissed him with all I had. “I love you, Alex Blake,” I declared, finally breaking free.
“Let’s keep it real, sweetheart,” he quipped. “You only love me for my art.”
12. FLOWERS
I loved September in Australia, and there was no better place to be than my cottage. My little garden burst with colour. I’d lost count of the different kinds of flowers on display.
One of the great parts of having Alex for a boyfriend was the fact that he was very handy in the garden. He mowed my lawn, pruned trees and kept my woodheap stocked. Even greater, I got to watch him do it. There was no sexier sight than Alex Blake swinging an axe, especially when he’d been at it a while and had taken his shirt off. For my own selfish reasons, I always asked him to do it on a Friday afternoon. It was a ploy that benefited both of us.
He wasn’t any help when identifying flowers, though. I picked a small purple flower, waved it at him and asked him what it was.
“I don’t know, Gabs,” he replied. “A purple flower?”
I smiled at him. “You are no help.”
Alex took the flower from me and tucked it behind my ear. “I know someone who could tell you what most of these are.”
I was delighted by the prospect. “Really?”
“Yeah.” His handsome face twisted a little. “She’s knowledgeable but difficult to deal with.”
The demon child. Surely not!
“Is she also moody and easily aggravated?”
“That about sums her up.”
I couldn’t imagine Charli knowing a thing about flowers, but I was prepared to humour him. “Do you think she’ll come here and tell me about them?”
He shrugged. “I can ask her.”
I wasn’t expecting to hear another word about it but Alex somehow got Charli to come through for me. Just an hour after leaving, he returned to the cottage, demon sister in tow.
I met them on the porch and the games began. Charli knew nothing of my relationship with Alex. As far as she probably knew, we weren’t even friends.
Alex looked understandably nervous. His biggest mistake was not
Unbelievably, he managed to keep quiet for the next half hour. I stole the occasional glance, surprised each time to see him actually drawing. By the time I’d finished my picture, I was desperate to see his.
“Finished?” I asked.
“No,” he huffed, feigning annoyance. “Be quiet and let me draw.”
I gave him a few more minutes, but was soon at the point of exploding. I stood up and walked over to his rock. The second I reached him, he flipped his pad shut and stood up, holding it high out of my reach.
“Show me,” I ordered.
He narrowed his eyes, holding his sketchpad against his chest. “Show me yours first.”
I handed it to him.
“Do you even know how clever you are?” he asked, alternating glances between the picture in his hand and me.
I could feel the heat of embarrassment burning my cheeks. “Show me yours.”
“Are you sure you want to see it? I don’t want you to feel inferior.”
I snatched the sketchpad from him so quickly that he nearly lost his grip on mine. I spun around out of his reach so I could check out his drawing.
He wasn’t kidding when he mentioned stick figures. He’d drawn something that almost resembled a person – female I think. She had stick figure boobs. It had taken him forty-five minutes to draw stick figure boobs.
“Well?” he asked. “Don’t leave me hanging.”
I spun back to face him. “Is it a person?”
He dropped his head. “It’s a woman. A beautiful coppery haired French woman,” he explained theatrically. “If you’d given me coloured pencils, it would’ve been obvious.”
I matched his laugh with one of my own. “Is it me?”
Alex stalked over to me and pulled the sketchbook from my grasp. He dropped both books down on the rock behind me and drew me in close. “You told me to draw something beautiful,” he murmured against my mouth. “I don’t think I did you justice.”
I stretched up, linked my arms around his neck and kissed him with all I had. “I love you, Alex Blake,” I declared, finally breaking free.
“Let’s keep it real, sweetheart,” he quipped. “You only love me for my art.”
12. FLOWERS
I loved September in Australia, and there was no better place to be than my cottage. My little garden burst with colour. I’d lost count of the different kinds of flowers on display.
One of the great parts of having Alex for a boyfriend was the fact that he was very handy in the garden. He mowed my lawn, pruned trees and kept my woodheap stocked. Even greater, I got to watch him do it. There was no sexier sight than Alex Blake swinging an axe, especially when he’d been at it a while and had taken his shirt off. For my own selfish reasons, I always asked him to do it on a Friday afternoon. It was a ploy that benefited both of us.
He wasn’t any help when identifying flowers, though. I picked a small purple flower, waved it at him and asked him what it was.
“I don’t know, Gabs,” he replied. “A purple flower?”
I smiled at him. “You are no help.”
Alex took the flower from me and tucked it behind my ear. “I know someone who could tell you what most of these are.”
I was delighted by the prospect. “Really?”
“Yeah.” His handsome face twisted a little. “She’s knowledgeable but difficult to deal with.”
The demon child. Surely not!
“Is she also moody and easily aggravated?”
“That about sums her up.”
I couldn’t imagine Charli knowing a thing about flowers, but I was prepared to humour him. “Do you think she’ll come here and tell me about them?”
He shrugged. “I can ask her.”
I wasn’t expecting to hear another word about it but Alex somehow got Charli to come through for me. Just an hour after leaving, he returned to the cottage, demon sister in tow.
I met them on the porch and the games began. Charli knew nothing of my relationship with Alex. As far as she probably knew, we weren’t even friends.
Alex looked understandably nervous. His biggest mistake was not
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