Page 20 of Building Courage
“It’ll be a great space for entertaining. But a hammock in that corner over there might be the topper.” She pointed to the opposite corner shaded by a neighbor’s pine tree. “Afternoon naps after reading a good book…”
Tucker’s smile landed like a punch below her ribs, and she drew in a breath.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said.
She cleared her throat. “Should I change clothes so we can start?”
“Sure. I’ll show you to the guest room.”
She pulled off her sunglasses as they walked into the house. He paused for a moment to allow their eyes to adjust to the dimmer light.
The living room and kitchen embraced each other in a large rectangular space that moved from the sliding glass door to the front entrance. A large dark blue-gray island, topped with white quartz veined with a lighter gray, sat parallel to a dining room table large enough to seat eight. The space between the two was wide enough to accommodate both of them moving through side-by-side. The rest of the cabinets were white and stretched the width of the kitchen, their pale gray counters reflecting the deep blue backsplash set in a wavy pattern that snaked across the wall. The upper cabinets with mullion doors reflected the light as he hit a switch next to the door. A large stove and double ovens were on the right, and the refrigerator was across the way, standing against a short wall that opened into a hallway.
“This is beautiful,” Brynn said.
“Thanks. The kitchen is what sold me. It had just been updated when I came to see the house. I like to cook.”
“I like to eat, but the cooking part…eh, not so much. I can burn toast and scorch eggs pretty good.”
His chuckled.
He continued into the living room. The overstuffed, cream-colored leather couch and two recliners looked comfortable, sleek, and modern. The painting behind the couch caught her attention, and she paused to study it. Bold slashes of color cut diagonally across the canvas, creating a rain-washed cliffside and, beneath it, was an aerial perspective of the beach and ocean during a storm. “Wow. That’s amazing.”
“My C.O.’s wife, Moira, painted it.” He gazed at the painting for a moment, then focused on her. “The two of you would probably sync. She’s a high school art teacher but too talented to just teach. So, she sells her work in some of the galleries along the coast.”
“Did you buy it directly from her?” she asked.
“No. I bought it from a gallery. It was the day after I closed on the house, and I was looking for something for the living room.”
“And to celebrate getting the house?”
“Yeah, that, too. My teammates came over to check out the place, and Moira came with LT. When she saw the painting, she thanked me for the purchase. She showed up about a week later with another one as a housewarming gift.”
Was there something going on between Tucker and this Moira? She hated that past experiences triggered an echo of uneasiness. How many hang-ups could one person have?
She kept her tone neutral. “That was nice of her.”
“Yeah, it was. She did an amazing painting of the team when she and LT were dating. She looks out for Sam and kind of spreads it to the team. Like sending goody packages when we’re deployed and including enough for all of us.”
Was that admiration in his tone or something more? To block the voice in her head, she said, “Can I see the other painting?”
“Sure.” He led the way down the hallway.
She glanced into the rooms as they passed. On the right was a bedroom done in cream, brown, and pale green. On the left was a bathroom done in slate gray tile with deep hunter-green accents. On the right again was a room set up as a gym with weights, a rowing machine, and a serious exercise bicycle. She was surprised when he paused there and went in.
Opposite the weights, on a wall painted cobalt blue, was an unframed canvas. Glowing streetlights shone upon a wet path that narrowed down to a one-point perspective in the center of the picture plane. Empty park benches positioned along the route had been sketched in with a pallet knife. The rain-washed foliage of the trees was spackled in as well. But there was an energy about the painting that projected movement as though the wind blew and the rain whipped through it. In the center focal point of all that action and color, a single figure ran into the night.
“She’s an amazing talent,” Brynn murmured. “There’s so much power in her work.”
“Yeah. It was a surprise when she and LT stopped by with this. When I saw it, I thought this would be the perfect place to hang it and use it as a focus for when I’m using the stationary bike or the rowing machine.”
His commanding officer had accompanied Moira here to deliver the painting. So, her suspicions were unfounded. The muscles of her neck and shoulders relaxed in relief, and for the first time, she realized she’d felt jealous of this woman and the relationship she’d imagined they shared.
She was experiencing feelings for a man she’d only met twice and had only talked to for a couple of hours. She needed to get that under control. She’d made some bad choices in the past. Something she couldn’t afford to do again.
She dragged her attention away from the emotionally charged thoughts. “You called her Moira. What’s her last name?”
“Harding, but I think she still uses her maiden name for business. Both paintings are signed Moira McKee.”