Color My World Read online

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  Now finally the middle of the week, Cassie had been working a full schedule, to where she felt exhausted but still pleased with herself. Her part-time job was going well, as was the planning for the painting she was doing for Hank. While challenging, it was also fun. She was still ironing out a few of the details, but every time she sat down to work on it, she felt thrilled to know that someone wanted to pay for something commissioned.

  Whoever he was and despite the many things they didn’t really know about each other, Hank thought her work was good enough to pay her a hefty fee for a custom project. He had to expect to pay more than what he’d already spent on the first painting. It meant a great deal, financially, but on a professional level, it meant the world to her.

  Her shift had been fairly uneventful, but quick, which she always appreciated, and she was eager to get home and get to work on the last details of the commissioned painting. She was sketching a concept drawing, just to make sure she and Hank were on the same page and to give her a better idea of how much space and materials she’d need to finish the project. Finally, it felt like she was succeeding at something, winning at the life she’d chosen for herself. She felt confident and motivated, and maybe just a little bit driven, to where she could keep going, keep pursuing her dream, no matter what it took to achieve it.

  As she navigated through the store where she worked, she was too lost in thought to notice the customers around her. She sidestepped a new display of cookie boxes and headed toward the back, where she clocked out and grabbed her bag. But before she walked out the front door, she checked the shelves for something to eat.

  She couldn’t afford to buy too much extra, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have cravings every now and then. Her small store’s selection was pretty slim, but she didn’t let that bother her as she picked out a bag of her favorite breakfast cereal.

  She plopped it onto the counter next to the cash register with a sigh.

  “Something wrong?” Heather asked, swiping the bag over the bar code scanner.

  “No, just tired. It happens when you work hard, you know.”

  “Oh, really? I haven’t noticed.” Heather rubbed her wrist before pressing a button on the register and the price flashed on the small screen.

  “So, big plans for tonight?” Heather asked. She knew full well that Cassie was working on a painting estimate and that she didn’t have any other plans, but she supposed that it was polite to ask.

  “Nothing you don’t already know.”

  “Good.” Heather smiled, and it looked more meaningful than normal. “If that’s the case, maybe you should check out the guy in the last aisle. Over past the bread.” She leaned forward, a knowing look in her eyes. “He’s cute. If you don’t talk to him, I will.” Her words were little above a whisper.

  “I don’t know. I’m kind of busy with my art these days.” It felt good to say that.

  “I know, but if you don’t take opportunities when they come, you might never get a chance. Besides, you’re here—he’s here. What will a few minutes hurt?”

  “That’s awfully coordinated.”

  “Maybe it’s fate for you two to meet just like that. Continuously missing each other until one fated moment.”

  “Why don’t you go talk to him then?”

  “Because I’m trying to help you. We gotta watch out for each other.”

  Cassie shook her head. One man was enough to fill her thoughts. She didn’t need two. Until she knew more of what he felt about her, she wouldn’t really be up for flirting with anyone else, not that she could explain all that to Heather. She just needed to keep her head down and not talk to random men who probably wouldn’t interest her anyway. Not unless they were like Hank, with a confident smile, intense focus, and a passion for art. Not unless they knew how to encourage her and help her enjoy life, how to make her laugh and feel good about herself.

  Hank could do all those things, and she’d only known him for a few weeks. And she’d lied to him, but he didn’t seem to notice or, if he did, he didn’t care. He seemed genuinely interested in her, willing to take his time getting to know her and to give her space when she needed it. If she could sort out the right time to tell him she hadn’t really been a successful artist before they’d met, everything could be perfect.

  The sound of footsteps approaching from behind made Cassie turn back to look over her shoulder. What she saw made her suck in a breath, causing her to choke on her own spit. She knew she should run for the door, but something kept her feet rooted to the ground.

  Hank stood there in her store like it was no big deal. He was dressed much like he’d been the first time they’d met, only the chinos looked a shade darker. But she could swear it was the same shirt, this time paired with a navy jacket. He looked like he’d just left his work and had probably parked his expensive car out in the store parking lot—but if he was so successful, why would he shop there?

  Then she remembered what Hanna always told her. Successful people didn’t always spend their paycheck. Sometimes, they still budgeted, just like everyone else—they just had more to save for later after they were through. Invest, she’d said before going off in accounting jargon and losing Cassie completely.

  But if he was on a budget, she couldn’t tell. The basket he held contained enough food to last a week, and while none of it was super-pricey, it wasn’t the cheap, store brand label, either. And there was a specific bottle of shampoo in there, undoubtedly for his pristine hair, and she knew how much those cost. She’d rearranged that shelf just that morning.

  He looked over and almost saw her. With a hiss, she flipped her back against the wall and squeezed her leg muscles as if doing so would melt her into the wall and teleport her to the other side. She fumbled with her name badge and stuck her thumb taking it off. This was ridiculous. He’d find out sooner or later if he was actually into her, but she still did it.

  “Cassie?”

  And there he was, turning the same corner and blowing her cover entirely. Thankfully, she’d put the name badge in her pocket by that point, but her thumb was in her mouth from the pinprick. Sucking her thumb wasn’t exactly a great look for someone you had a crush on.

  Realization hit her like a freight train. He was the man Heather had been fawning over, the customer in the last aisle who had struck her as so good looking. Cassie felt a blush flood her cheeks. She couldn’t blame Heather for feeling interested, but she felt a sort of possessiveness rise up inside her. The urge to rest a hand on his arm was strong.

  At the same time, she knew she couldn’t do that. Cassie didn’t have any real claim to him either. She didn’t even know his last name yet.

  “I thought we’d run into each other eventually. Small town living, I guess,” Hank said as he leaned against the handle of his shopping cart. “Do you work here?”

  Her brain froze. None of the pistons were firing. It was as if all the lights had turned off at once, and she said the first thing that came to mind. “No.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m just shopping. For dinner. You know how I don’t cook.”

  “Sorry about that. It’s just…your vest and all.”

  She touched one of the edges. It could’ve been the kind a normal person would wear, but she could see why he’d think so when every other employee there wore the same thing. Thankfully, the one she put on today was a different color than the rest by chance, and maybe that would be enough.

  “Oh. Right. This old thing. I just tossed it on when I left the house. I didn’t think much of it.” All technically true. She was cutting the line pretty close, though. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn’t stand there and say she was an employee, not when she was supposed to be a successful artist. It felt too humiliating, too clear a statement of how bad off she really was.

  She made eye contact with Heather across the room, who tilted her head. There was no way Heather could hear what they were saying, but she obviously wanted to.

  “And a friend of min
e is the manager. She basically runs the place, so I like coming here. She’s a familiar face.”

  “You make friends quickly. You said you haven’t been here all that long.”

  “What can I say? I’m a friendly person.”

  He nodded slowly. “Makes sense. It’s always nice to support friends with our business.”

  That word made her pause. Was that all he’d been doing when buying her paintings? Supporting a friend? She was sure it was possible, and she should feel honored to be his friend after such a short time, but the words stuck in her throat, making any further small talk impossible.

  She grabbed her bag. “Well, I’d better be going. It was nice talking to you, but I just spotted the time.”

  He motioned before she could walk off. “Actually, I wanted to say something, since we ran into each other.” He moved his cart out of the middle of the aisle.

  She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the burning intensity of his gaze, the way he seemed to be looking through her. She felt sure he knew she’d been lying, sure that he was only giving her space rather than pointing out just how lame her comments had been—just as sure as she was that Heather was watching her intensely, far more interested in this encounter than working the cash register nearby.

  And she wanted to just tell him the truth, to say she hadn’t sold a painting in her life before his, that she’d worked at a gallery and watched other people’s successes fly off the walls every day. But then she’d have to tell him all the rest—that she lived in a cheap, tiny house full of sugar ants crawling all over the place, that she still had to pay the movers, and she was more spontaneous than driven and thoughtful when it came to making plans, even important ones like where to live and how to pay the bills. She was in too deep now, and she didn’t know how to dig herself back out.

  And she couldn’t say that yet. So she stood there and waited, trying to ignore the thundering in her chest and how good he looked in a jacket.

  “I was hoping we’d get a chance to talk,” he said at last. “I’d love to hear how things are going with the painting. And there’s a little town fair tomorrow. It’s not far from here, and I think you’d enjoy it. There are some stalls that sell art, so you could scope out the local competition too. A little work and a little play. You do remember how to have fun, right?”

  She didn’t tell him how long it had been since she did something just for fun. Instead, she joked along. “You mean painting for a living isn’t fun?”

  “I’m sure it is, but once in a while, it’s good to get out of the studio and get some sun, right?”

  “Says the man who commissioned a painting of the inside of a studio.”

  “True, but I like other scenes too. That’s just one of them. I could pick you up at six?”

  She was available. She wasn’t working tomorrow, at least, not at her day job—she hadn’t been able to take over anyone’s shift—and it wouldn’t hurt to talk about the painting. To make sure she had the project locked in and get the deposit fee, though she wasn’t sure she wanted their relationship to be “just business.” But as long as she had the movers bill hanging over her head, she had to focus on that. She had to make sure that worked out, first. Her heart had shown itself a terrible guide at how to live, and she didn’t want to ruin her chances at her new life by getting swept up in a romance instead of paying her bills.

  “So? What do you say?”

  She let herself relent, just a little, enough to enjoy the warm glow that filled her heart whenever he looked at her like that.

  “It sounds like a plan.”

  “I know you’re new to town, so I can drive. It’s a lot of backroads, anyway.”

  “That’d be great.” She described where she lived for a meetup point, and he said he had a pretty good idea of the area. Once again, he was being a perfect gentleman. It wasn’t quite like meeting in the store parking lot, right in front of her coworkers—not that he knew they were her coworkers. It was natural and relaxed. Perfect.

  He swung the cart around. “See you then. It’ll be fun.”

  It didn’t take long after he left for Heather to make her way back over. She nearly bubbled over with curiosity. “So you already knew him? He’s the guy I was talking about.”

  “Apparently, yeah. He’s also the guy you keep mentioning I have ‘guy troubles’ with. The one I met at the farmers’ market.”

  “Oh wow. Small world.”

  “I’m working on a commissioned painting for him, and he wants to talk more about it when he takes me to a fair.”

  Heather scrunched her nose. “He wants to talk business at a fair? That’s weird.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “He doesn’t care at all about the painting, Cassie. He just wants to go on a date with you. It’s obvious.”

  Cassie gave her a playful shove. “That’s not true. He owns a bunch of art. He said he likes my work.”

  “I mean, that could be true too. Both things can be true at once. But if all he’s interested in are your colors and brushes, he’d just email you the info and pick it up when it’s ready.”

  “You’re probably right. I can usually spot this stuff a mile away, but my radar has been off lately. I mean, I could tell he was flirting, but…you know how it goes.”

  “Not really. I haven’t been on a date in forever either.”

  Cassie laughed. “I’ll think of you on mine then.”

  “How thoughtful of you.”

  As she entered her car, Heather’s words echoed in her head. A date. Was that really what this was? It felt like he genuinely wanted to spend time with her, and there was a certain, flirty nature to his tone and the way he spoke to her. Would he talk about business with that much intensity?

  But maybe it was just wishful thinking. She’d seen art enthusiasts before, and they could be intense, even about the most trivial details. Maybe Cassie was just hoping it was a date. After all, He was good looking and fun to be around. He was engaging and interesting and made her feel special, not to mention inspired and confident. It was a great feeling, and Cassie wanted to hold onto that. She didn’t want it to evaporate when she finally told him the truth—or when she finished the painting and he moved on to collecting other artists’ work.

  Still, he was a client, first and foremost, and Cassie didn’t want to mess up her chance at the commissioned painting because she expected the wrong thing, overshooting boundaries. Maybe this was a business lunch for artistic people. He’d said she could scope out the competition. Maybe he just saw it as a good business opportunity for her. She didn’t want to get it wrong and mess everything up between them.

  She bit her lip and finished driving back home. It was getting darker, and she stepped inside, locking up and flicking on the lights. No ants in sight, but she wasn’t really looking as she set down the bag with dinner on the counter. She’d quickly eat and then finish up her estimate for the painting, making sure her concept sketch was as complete and professional as possible.

  But she had plenty of time to do that. First, she wanted to plan what she was going to wear. Date or not, she wanted to pull out all the stops. She wanted to look her best and be herself as much as possible while still being professional and classy. She had the day off from work and she hadn’t been to a fair in forever. She could spend all day there, if she wanted to, and hopefully, she could enjoy Hank’s company and pretend it was a date, even if he didn’t come out and say as much.

  She smiled to herself as she got undressed and turned on a hot shower. She stepped in after slathering on a hair and face mask. She didn’t usually do that, or have time to, but it was suddenly important to her. She tried to ignore the butterflies that were building in her stomach as she thought about the next day. Humming to herself, she washed every inch of her body, shaving and scrubbing her skin until it was practically glowing. It probably wasn’t necessary, but it felt amazing, and she knew it would help her feel her best the next day.

  She rinsed off the mask on her
hair, only to wash and condition it, relaxing into the rich lather and the pleasant scent that filled the air. She knew she still had to work on the estimate and concept sketch, but she had all night. She didn’t think she’d get to bed early, not with the promise of seeing Hank tomorrow. After she rinsed her hair and face and was sparkling clean, she stepped out of the shower, wrapping herself in a comfortable, soft towel. She dried herself off quickly before patting her skin with lotion. Finally, she changed into pajamas for the night, glad she was only sketching that evening—no smock needed.

  She felt settled and soothed, more content than she had in a long time. She’d forgotten how taking care of herself felt. She’d been so focused on paying bills and making things work that she’d skipped things like this, but it was the perfect way to settle into her house for the night.

  And tomorrow, she’d take her concept sketches and estimate and meet Hank, to go on a date that wasn’t a date, but could be if things went well. She didn’t know how she’d manage, but she knew things would work out. They had to—he was starting to seem too perfect for her to lose to her lies about just how capable and sought-after she was. She wanted to be that woman for him, but she also wanted to be with him, too, and that desire was starting to become more important than paying the bills and being a successful artist.

  Almost.

  Chapter Five

  Cassie glanced at the clock again, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. It wasn’t six yet, and she’d been waiting for twenty minutes. She didn’t want to risk being late, not to a professional-could-be-a-date meeting, and especially not with Hank.

  She shifted her weight and smoothed out her dress. After discarding half a dozen options, she’d settled on a pretty, pale pink dress with a high waist that flared out into an A-line style. Then she’d given a soft curl to her hair, but she worried that she was being too fussy for a business meeting. But was that what this was? If he’d wanted it to just be business, she thought they’d have met at a coffeeshop and stayed there.