Code Name: Aries by Janie Crouch

15

Wavy

I’d spent every spare minute of the past five days painting.

Ian was still in Denver. I’d gone with him a week ago despite knowing what had happened to Varela.

I’d wanted to be there when he was done to try to help him with the mental and emotional fallout. Ian didn’t let himself lean on other people very often. He didn’t lean on me much, but however much he would, I would do whatever I could to support him.

Even if it meant most of my time had been spent hanging out in his penthouse waiting. I wished I’d had my paints. The lighting there was better than my dim studio any day. But mostly, I’d wished there was something more I could do for Ian.

He’d been silent and grim when he’d returned home after his meeting about Varela. He hadn’t given me any details. I knew he would always protect me from things like that, but he’d said that it had been a direct message from someone named Erick Huen. I’d heard him mention that name before, knew that he was one of the key members of Mosaic Ian was trying to take down.

I’d just held Ian that night. I’d known he was conflicted about having me there at all—afraid he would taint me. Afraid the darkness of his world would bleed into mine. I wasn’t putting up with that bullshit line of thinking.

I had led him into the shower and washed his strong body as he’d stood there, stoic. I’d had proof right in front of my eyes that he wanted me, at least physically, but his mind and emotions had been trapped somewhere else.

After I’d dried him off I’d lain in the bed and held him, stroking his hair, holding him against me. I’d wanted to do that the first day I’d met him, to reach up and stroke the hair above his ear, to offer him some sort of connection. I’d scoffed at myself, but it ended up I was right, he did need it. And he accepted it from me. That was something to be treasured.

Deep in the early morning hours, I’d woken to find his face buried in my neck and him rolling me under him. Our lovemaking had been as silent as the rest of the night, but I’d known he was trying to connect with me, to hold on to me.

It was enough.

I stepped back from the painting I’d been working on for the past couple of days. It was more complex than my other rainbow paintings. There was something different about it, something much more engaging and intriguing. I liked it.

Since my relationship with Ian had started, I’d given up on any of my art except for my rainbow paintings. They were the only things I wanted to do, plus Ian always seemed so excited to see them. That played a part. A huge part.

Ian played a huge part. I didn’t know where all of this was going with him, but I knew without either of us saying it out loud that it was something serious. Maybe not marriage serious, but neither of us took our blossoming relationship lightly.

When he’d first shown me his office in Oak Creek, I couldn’t help but smile. He was carving out a place in his life for me. That was Ian announcing his feelings. I didn’t need flowery words or romance. I had the man. That was better.

I looked down at my phone and bit back a curse when I saw the time. Damn it, I was late for work again. Leeann was going to kill me.

I left all my painting stuff as it was and threw yesterday’s clothes back on, rushing out the door a couple minutes later. Leeann shook her head when she saw me running in from the back, then pointed to the tables that still needed to be waited on.

There was something to be said for waitressing. It kept my body and my mind busy while I did it. It was a good, honest living. But I couldn’t help but hope that maybe I could sell a few pieces of my art. It didn’t cost a lot to live in Oak Creek, and I’d like to be able to back my hours down and spend more time painting.

Not to mention that making a living as an artist, even a modest one, would make me feel a little more on an equal footing with Ian. A little less like Waitress Cinderella being swept off her feet by the billionaire prince.

Ian had mentioned using some of his connections to get me an audience with some agents. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. On the one hand, I didn’t want to use his money. I didn’t want to ever use his money at all.

But on the other hand, if his connections could get me in the door, get these new paintings in front of someone I wasn’t able to meet on my own, maybe that would be enough.

The lunch shift finally slowed down, and I only had a couple of tables left. It was midafternoon, and Leeann was about to leave. I was working a double, so my day had barely started.

She pointed to the back booth. “That guy asked for you personally.”

I spun around hoping it was Ian and she was playing a little joke on me, but it wasn’t. It was a man I’d never seen. Sharply dressed—chinos and a collared shirt. Trim, late thirties or early forties. Not the type of person who visited our town or the diner.

I walked over to him. “Hi, can I get you something?”

“Just coffee. And I’ve heard that you guys have good pie?”

“Yes.” I rattled off today’s available slices, still trying to figure out why he’d asked me to wait on him.

“I’ll go with the lemon meringue.”

I turned to get it for him. “Coming right up.”

“Before you go, are you Wavy Bollinger?” he asked.

I spun back around slowly. “Yes.”

“My name is Louis Noeya. I don’t mean to be intrusive, but I noticed that painting on the wall over there and inquired about it and was told you painted it.”

I raised one eyebrow. “Do you know Ian DeRose?” Had Ian contacted an agent without telling me? I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“No. Should I?” He held out his hands in front of him. “Look, I’m a very small art agent working mostly out of Los Angeles, but I was coming through Oak Creek on my way to a meeting at one of your local ski lodges. I can see that I bothered you. Never mind.”

I was being such an ass. I couldn’t believe I had an actual art agent talking to me and I was being a jerk to him. “No, please, I’m sorry, I thought maybe one of my friends had put you up to a practical joke or something. What was your name again?”

“Louis Noeya.” He slid a card across to me. Sure enough, there was his name, there was a Los Angeles address, and most importantly, there were the words artist representation.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so short with you. Yes, I do some artwork, but I’ve never sold any professionally.”

He steepled his hands in front of him on the table. “I was wondering if you would like to come to my temporary office in Reddington City tomorrow and show me, say, five or ten of your best pieces? I can’t guarantee anything, but I think it would be worth both our whiles. I’m usually not wrong when I have a feeling like this.”

I stood there, staring at him. “Are you for real?”

He chuckled. “Sure am. Look, I really don’t want to get your hopes up. I may only be interested in a few pieces, maybe none at all, but it’s worth a try, right?”

Hell yes, it was worth a try. I quickly agreed and took a couple of his cards and promised to meet him tomorrow.

I was walking on air the rest of the day. I couldn’t sleep that night, trying to choose what pieces to take to show Mr. Noeya. I would bring a variety. A few of my older landscapes, like the one he’d seen on the Frontier wall. But also, some of the rainbow pieces. Particularly the one I’d been working on this morning that had made me late to work. It was my best yet.

I’d barely gotten any sleep, but I wasn’t tired when Ian texted me to let me know he’d be coming back to town tomorrow evening. That would be perfect. By then, I would be back from Reddington City and hopefully would have some good news to share with him about my career taking off, even if only the slightest bit.

I decided to splurge and grabbed one of the latest tiny canvases I’d made for him, jotting on the back that I had a surprise for him. I would overnight it to Ian—hopefully, it would make his day a little brighter. He’d kept every single tiny painting I’d ever given him. Sometimes he had more than one on his desk when I wasn’t around.

Like he wanted to have part of me close to him. It made my heart swell just thinking about it.

Hopefully, tomorrow night I’d have art representation for the first time ever. And I would have gotten it on my own. Ian would never have to worry I was using him for his connections.

And then he and I could celebrate together.