Page 12 of The Artist

“It’s my favorite wine.I always have a bottle or two of it on hand.”She lowered her gaze and then lifted it, clashing with his blue-eyed one.“It’s nice to have someone to share it with.”

“I agree.I take most of my meals alone, if I actually eat a meal.Why don’t you tell me more about your gallery.Why is it in financial trouble?”

They took a couple of bites of the stew before she answered.

His eyebrows lifted.“You’re right.It is better than last night, and that was terrific.”

“Thanks.”Alexis sighed, and set her spoon down before placing her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her clasped hands.“As to the gallery, Horace Beecher is the problem.I thought he really liked me.He’s the one I mentioned last night.We dated for a while, and he even tried to get me to let him move in here.I decided against it.He expected me to pay all the bills for both of our galleries while he got fat and happy on my hard work.I kicked him to the curb and he’s been sabotaging my gallery ever since.”

“What exactly has he been doing?”Peter set his spoon next to his bowl and mimicked her body language as he listened.His gaze was intent on her, never wavering.

She closed her eyes and tried to think of all the things Horace had done.“It started with little things, moving my garbage container to the back of his gallery.Our galleries are only one building away from each other.He also put grease on my door handle.Stupid things like that.Then, once he had the UPS driver deliver one of my paintings to his gallery.Needless to say, I had a big talk with UPS about that.I don’t even know how Horace did that unless he bribed the driver.I hope it was a big bribe because the driver lost his job over that one.Then, during a big showing, he cut my electricity.It was just a matter of him throwing the breaker switch and I turned it back on quickly, but it was the idea of the thing.I couldn’t believe he would so something like that.It’s ridiculous.”

He furrowed his brows and narrowed his eyes.“Have you gone to the authorities?”

His question raised her ire.She leaned against the back of the chair and rolled her eyes.“Of course, I’ve gone to the authorities.Each time it was McNubbin and each time he said there was nothing they could do.”

“Even when he cut your power?”

“Yes, he said it was just a normal outage and Horace had nothing to do with it.”

“Were other businesses and homes affected?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

Peter slammed his fist on the table.“Dang it.Beecher will be sorry that he ever messed with you or my name isn’t Peter Kincaid.”

“I’m flattered, Peter, but you don’t have to do anything.Horace is my problem not yours.Just giving me the painting to show is more than enough.”

He took one of her hands and then looked at her.His blue-eyed gaze was stormy.“He’s not getting away with this.It’s the least I can do for you saving my life.You’ve given me a second chance, and I don’t intend to squander it.Taking care of Horace is my first task.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and the snow will have stopped in the morning and you can get back to your escape.”

Peter workedwith her on the black canvas so that the end result was something abstract like Picasso would have done.The black changed the colors and made them seem more brilliant.

She was totally blown away with the paintings she’d finished in the last two days.It would have taken her weeks to finish both of these because she had no time.Work and sleep, work and sleep, that was all her life entailed.Since he was a hard worker himself, she thought he might understand her obsession with her gallery.

But he was escaping from the publicity hounds that followed him all the time.She wouldn’t like that either.She’d just want to paint, run her gallery and make love with Peter.Shaking her head she knew her crush on Peter was more than that.With his blue eyes, dark brown hair, and stubbled jaw, he was her dream come true and the fact he was the most talented artist she’d ever met and a nice guy was just icing on her cake.

Two days later,Alexis awoke to the sound of a plow in her driveway.She jumped out of bed, ran through the living room to the door in her pajamas, and bare feet.and threw the door wide open.

Peter was standing on the porch, holding a cup of coffee.

She pointed at his coffee and held her hands a few inches apart.“Gimmie.Gimmie.”

Peter chuckled and handed her his cup.“It’s only because I know what you’re like in the morning before coffee.”

She turned back to the plow, recognizing it as Joey Burgen’s Ford F350 Heavy Duty, with a huge snowplow on the front.

He lifted the plow so it took off the top six or seven inches of snow, pushing it toward the cabin, then turning it toward the side.He repeated the process until he had the driveway cleared.Then he stopped the vehicle and cut the engine before hopping out of the cab and walking up to the cabin.He trudged his way through the snow on the steps and up onto the porch.

The man stuck out his hand toward Peter.“Hi, I’m Joey Burgen.You must be the owner of that car up the road about half a mile.”

Peter shook his hand and smiled.“Peter Kincaid.Guilty as charged.I’d have died if I hadn’t found my way to Alexis’s cabin.”

Joey nodded.“Yeah, you could easily have died.”

Alexis stepped forward and hugged Joey.“Thank you.”Then she released him and turned her gaze to Peter.“I thought for a bit he was a goner.I had to drag him into the house and over to the fire.Once he warmed up, I had him put on a sweatsuit of Ed’s that I still had.”