Meaning Nash.
“Awesome. Great. I need the last piece in the Origin Series,” Karen said. The sound of papers rustling around filtered through the phone. I could picture her rummaging through the stack that always decorated her desk while she hunted for the right one. “You mentioned finishing it the other day.”
My gaze shifted to the painting in the corner, leaning against the brick wall of my apartment, and my stomach dipped at the sight. There were very few pieces of mine I felt should stay hidden from the world, and that series was one of them. I’d never intended to put them up for sale. Karen had dropped by my place to pick up another painting for the gallery I’d finished and spotted the first two in the series. She’d taken them with her and placed them on the gallery’s online site for all to see without realizing that series wasn’t for sale. When I noticed the paintings were gone, it was too late.
Karen had already sold them.
She’d called me to find out their series name for the buyer before I could ask what she’d done with them. The deal was final, so I told her the name that came to me from thin air for it—origins. I also mentioned there would be one more because I could feel that familiar tingle already pulsing in my hand while talking to her about the series.
I also knew then what they represented—the shifter sickness.
The first painting was of a woman wearing a tattered white dress standing in a swamp. The second was of a glass jar bathing in moonlight. And the final image ended up being of two sets of bare feet with glowing water wrapping around their ankles and light rippling outward from them.
It wasn’t until later that I learned who the buyer had been—Damon Kincaid.
To say I wasn’t Damon’s biggest fan was an understatement. The guy rubbed me the wrong way. He wasn’t a jerk, but there was a sense of arrogance about him I didn’t care for. My bear didn’t care for him either.
However, that could be because Damon Kincaid was a snake shifter.
Snakes had always put both of us on edge, giving us the heebie-jeebies.
“Sam? Hello?” Karen asked, drawing my attention back to her. I realized then I still hadn’t answered her about the piece. I hadn’t said anything beyond, hey.
“Yeah. I’m still here. Sorry.” I put my paintbrush down and grabbed hold of my phone, releasing it from the crook of my neck. “It’s ready. It’s sitting in the corner of my apartment. Do you want me to drop it off at the gallery before I head out of town?”
“Can you? That would be perfect, especially if you can get it here before five. Damon Kincaid is coming personally to pick it up. He also mentioned he’d like to speak with you. I gave him your number in case you two don’t cross paths today. I hope you don’t mind.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, hating she’d given him my number. Damon had seemed obsessed with my paintings since we’d met by chance at the gallery shortly after I moved to Denton. I assumed this obsession spurred from his snake being able to sense my bear—or quite possibly my gift. While I wasn’t one hundred percent sure he’d picked up on it, I did have my suspicions.
“How thoughtful of you,” I said, allowing heavy sarcasm to have its way with my words.
“Yeah, yeah. I can hear your enthusiasm. Regardless of how you feel about Damon, he’s one of my highest paying buyers. You’ve made thousands off him too, and I’m sure you wouldn’t mind making even more. I don’t know if he wants to ask you out on a date or if he’s interested in commissioning work from you, but I’m sure speaking with him will be worth your while. Besides, the man is serious eye candy. He’s tall, dark, and handsome. And those penetrating eyes of his. Yum.”
I rolled my eyes, even though she couldn’t see, despite the smirk twisting my lips. “He’s not my type.”
“What is your type then? You’ve turned away so many yummy morsels this year.” The sounds of her rifling through more papers filtered through the phone. It was quickly followed by the clacking of keys on a keyboard. “You’re too beautiful and young to be single. If you can’t find someone, then there is absolutely no hope for a girl like me. Although, I think I’m starting to realize you haven’t found someone because you’re either too damn picky or still hung up on someone else.”
I licked my lips. I wasn’t picky, but she’d hit the nail on the head with the other part though. I was hung up on someone else. In fact, I’d already met Mr. Right—and he’d broken my heart.
“Anyway,” I said, dragging the word out. “I’ll make sure I get the piece there tonight, but I can’t promise I’ll hang around long enough to speak with Damon.”
“Okay. Fine. I guess it doesn’t matter if you speak with him anyway, because like I said, I already gave him your number. I’m sure he’ll be in touch.” I didn’t have to be in the room with her to know a wicked smile had sprung onto her face.
“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” I asked with a chuckle.
“I’ve been called worse.” There was a pause and then the sound of tapping around on a keyboard again. “So, when do you think you’ll be back from Gem Creek?”
My heart dipped to my stomach. I hadn’t told Karen why I was returning home, just that I was. The sound of my hometown’s name coming from her was jarring. It was like two worlds colliding, worlds I’d never thought would.
I’d done everything in my power to leave Gem Creek behind.
Denton had been my fresh start. It was someplace new. A place that hadn’t been tainted by
