Page 42 of Tangled Up In You
“I didn’t know you like to paint,” he said out of absolutely nowhere.
She glanced away from the movie and reached for the remote, pausing it. “What’s that?”
“I knew you drew, I guess. The card, I mean, from before we left,” he stammered, as he remembered the card. That amazing, intricate card she must have spent hours drawing. He cleared his throat. “But today at the bar, your story about the paints. Then, when you emptied your bag, you had some paintbrushes in there. A science whiz, a petty criminal, and a painter. Who knew?”
She laughed. “Gloria says I started painting the second we arrived at the homestead. She says it’s how she knew I was supposed to be there.”
“How old were you when you moved there?”
“I think I was around three.”
“Where did you live before?”
She frowned down at the bedspread. “I don’t know, actually.”
“What kinds of things do you usually paint?”
Ren hopped off the bed to walk over to her bag. Digging around, she grabbed her notebook, and before he realized what was happening, she settled down beside him. Shoulder to shoulder, with their backs against the narrow headboard, she flipped through the pages, showing him what was there. There were a few sketches of people—including her roommate, Miriam—a pig, a cat, a view out the door of her bedroom back home, and her cabin from the outside. But those weren’t the main event, not even close. Because surrounding every object and taking up all the remaining space on every page were the same tiny explosions she’d drawn all over his thank-you card: the most detailed fireworks he’d ever seen. In the world of Ren’s imagination, the air was made of playful fire, mischievous sparklers, sensual licks of color.
“These are insane,” he said, slowly flipping through them. “The fireworks—they’re really good.”
“Thank you.” She reached over, tracing her finger around a swirl of fiery yellow.
“I like how you choose colors for them based on the subject.” He pointed to one of a pig in which the sparklers were green, brown, and purple. “It’s just a pig eating from a trough, but the way the page is filled with color feels so playful and…beautiful, actually.”
“That’s a really nice thing to say, Fitz.”
“I’ve never seen fireworks drawn with so much detail before.”
“When I was little I thought they were called flowerworks. I thought they were magical flowers in the sky.”
He laughed. “That’s cute.”
Fitz wasn’t sure who was more shocked that he’d said it. She turned to look at him, and he couldn’t help it, the way his attention dipped to her mouth again. When he forced his gaze back up, she was slow to follow. She’d been doing the same thing.
He needed her off his bed.
“I was thinking we could take a little detour tomorrow,” he said, standing, walking away from the bed, needing something else to do with himself.
Ren followed and dropped her notebook back into her bag. “A detour?”
“We’ll be passing by Mount Rushmore, and I thought maybe we could go. If you wanted.”
“You’re not in a hurry to get to Nashville?”
“I mean…if it was just me, yeah, I’d power through. But you haven’t seen any of the country yet, have you?”
“No.” Before he had time to react, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I do want to go. Oh my gosh, thank you, Fitz.”
Frozen, he stared blankly at the wall over her shoulder for a few stunned seconds before he lifted his arms and closed them around her shoulders. She exhaled into the hug, molding to him. Holy shit, it felt so good. He gave himself five seconds to enjoy it. He closed his eyes, inhaling the sweet honey scent of her hair. And then he released her, stepping back. “You didn’t have to hug me, we’re just going to see some old white dudes on a rock.”
“I was excited. Sorry. I’ve read so much about it.”
“Does that mean you’re going to talk my ear off in the car?”
She was too smart for him. She read the lie in his voice, saw it all over his face. Fitz didn’t know why, but he was finding it impossible to maintain his façade with her. “Yes,” she said, grinning, “and you’ll love it, don’t lie.”
“We can’t take too long.”