Page 24 of The Artist

I can’t let him win.I don’t know why he’s so hell bent on getting my gallery but won’t sell…not ever.Everything I love is here.This is where my soul resides, where my heart is happiest.Seeing all this beautiful art and helping others to see it, too, is all I’ve ever wanted, and Horace Beecher is trying to take that from me.Well, he won’t succeed.Ever.

Peter arrived backat the house he’d rented as it was nearing dusk.But his mind wasn’t on painting and the light was gone anyway.What did this T.B.Robertson mean to Alexis?They had dated, but did they still?

He ran his hands through his hair while he paced from the fireplace to the sofa and back again.

Why should he care whether she’d dated this unknown man?It wasn’t as if he had a claim on her.She wasn’t his girlfriend, though he would like to change that.She wasn’t interested in that sort of relationship.He walked to his laptop on the dining room table and opened Facebook.Then he searched for her to see if there were any pictures of her with a man.When he found none, he closed the laptop Why was he so interested anyway?Because Alexis was everything he’d ever wanted in a partner.She was an artist and loved art.She was beautiful and kind…literally his angel.

Still, he hadn’t made his interest known.He’d walked away from each encounter they’d had, though he hadn’t wanted to.He knew he couldn’t be the man she needed.Someone steady, someone who could keep her safe…even from himself.He didn’t want to hurt her, but he was afraid he might.

His aversion to anything close to a relationship was Melody’s fault.He’d loved her but not completely.Until Alexis, he hadn’t even been tempted by a woman.But she brought out his protective nature and rebuffed him at every turn.

Was his attraction to Alexis so vibrant only because she’d saved his life?Would he be as attracted to her in another situation?He threw his head back and shouted to the world, though no one would hear him.

He was here in Aspen to avoid the media.His last showing has caused him a meltdown.He’d retreated into his own world, refusing to talk to anyone including his family.Finally, his brother, Cole, all six foot, two inches of him, had wrestled him to the floor in his own house.That still irked him.

Cole had made him talk and solved the problem by taking it on himself.He put out a press release about a new Kincaid Industries acquisition and just like that, Peter wasn’t the Kincaid of interest any longer.But the media was fickle, so he’d run, or rather dflown, to Aspen, to regroup.He hated the media.He hated giving interviews.So why was he so determined to help Alexis when he knew what could happen?Did he hope his feelings for her would shield him somehow?

He stopped pacing and walked to his easel and picked up his palate and a brush as the sound of a vehicle pulling up reached him.

A knock sounded.

Peter sighed, put down his equipment, and walked to the front door.When he opened it, there were two men on his porch.One was burly with dark hair and a grim expression.The second man was short and wiry with sandy blond hair.

“Peter Kincaid?”asked the larger of the two men.

Peter held on to the door, ready to slam it shut, if needed.“I am.”

“Grab your coat, Mr.Kincaid.You are coming with us.”

“I most certainly am not.”Peter pushed the door to shut it.

But the first man easily held it open.“This isn’t a request, Mr.Kincaid.Our boss wants to talk to you.”

“He can come see me himself.”Peter stepped back, his hands fisted at his sides.

Mr.Burly shook his head.“That’s not happening.Now, get your coat or come without it.You have thirty seconds.I’d hate to see anything bad happen to Ms.Armstrong.”

Peter stiffened.“What does Alexis have to do with this?”

The man grinned.“Nothing…yet.It all depends on how cooperative you will be.”

“Fine, I’ll grab my coat.”He walked to the coat closet, took out his coat and donned it.Then he grabbed his keys and his phone from the bowl on the table by the door.

The smaller of the two men, who Peter thought of as Mr.Wiry, laughed.“Don’t know why you’re takin’ those.You ain’t drivin’ nowhere and you won’t be calling anyone.”

Peter shrugged.“What can I say, I’m an optimist.”

Mr.Wiry cackled.

Never having heard any sound like that, Peter could only stare.

“What you lookin’ at?”the man sneered.

“Nothing.Absolutely nothing,” responded Peter as he followed the first man out of the door.

Mr.Wiry pulled up the rear of their little group.

They walked to a large black SUV parked in the driveway.