You Say It First

“It is,” he told her. “You should try it.”

She stared at him. “Why are you here?” She smiled. “I mean why are you in Happily Inc and not wherever you’re from? I’m not asking the existential question.”

“Good because I’m not all that deep.” He considered how to answer, then decided to tell her the truth. “I’m from a small town at the foothills of the Sierra Nevada. It’s called Fool’s Gold. I moved here to get away from my father.”

Her eyes widened. “That’s honest.”

“I already know your family secrets. You might as well know mine.”

“I appreciate the fairness of that.” She nodded. “I know your dad is a famous glass artist, right? Ceallach Mitchell.”

“Impressive.”

“I told you, I Googled you before the second interview. That’s how I knew you were so successful.”

“Not that successful. Not when compared to him.”

“Is that the problem?”

“His fame? No. It’s him. He’s a driven man who likes to control everyone around him. Especially his sons.” Not the ones who weren’t artists, Nick thought, but he wasn’t about to go there. “When I was twenty-two, we did an exhibition together. It was a year of hell. He told me what to do and how to do it. It wasn’t how I wanted to live my life.”

“The result wasn’t worth it?”

“Not even close. Opening night, there was a lot of press, a lot of attention. He loves that—I don’t.” He turned his mind away from those times and the memories that still lingered. “I learned that there is such a thing as too much passion when it comes to my work.”

The past seemed closer than it had in a while. Probably because he didn’t usually think about it. “When my brothers and I were kids, my dad drank a lot and he had a temper. He would go on a rampage and destroy a year’s worth of work in an afternoon.”

She winced. “That must have been terrifying.”

“It was. After he and I had worked together and had the show, my girlfriend broke up with me. I found myself throwing pieces against the wall.”

“You didn’t want to be like him.”

“Exactly.”

“So too much passion is a problem in both art and life?”

“Yes,” he said firmly. “Passion consumes.”

“Isn’t it supposed to?” Her voice sounded wistful.

“Being consumed isn’t always a good thing. People talk about being motivated, about having fire in their belly. Fire can also destroy. After the show and the breakup, I backed away from my art for five years before starting back in a different medium.”

She reached out and touched the panel. “Wood,” she said softly. “Because it’s alive.”

“You remembered.”

She nodded. “Is that why you’re not married? Passion consumes?”

“Uh-huh. I’ve seen the price people pay. My mom lives her life for my dad. My dad lives his life for his art. She swears it’s fine, but I don’t believe her. I don’t want to destroy anyone or be destroyed.”

“What brought you back to being creative?”

“I was drowning without it. I may not always like being an artist, but it’s who I am. I worked in secret. When my father found out, he hounded me to switch back to glass, to work with him. That’s when I left.”

“Wow. All I have in my past is a con man for a grandfather. You’re lucky.”

He laughed. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“Why not? You are talented and famous and really good-looking.” She stopped talking as color stained her cheeks. “What I mean is...” She looked away.

“Go on.”

She shook her head. “Nope. I’m going to wait for the earth to open up and swallow me. If that doesn’t happen, I’ll just slink away.”

Nick took a step toward her. He had to admit he liked Pallas. She was honest and funny and earnest and easy to talk to. There was also how she looked in that dress. He had a bad feeling he would never quite see her the same way again.

“Don’t slink,” he told her as he moved a little closer. “There’s no need to slink.”

She stared up at him. “Not that you’re not good-looking, but it’s embarrassing to say.”

“Why? I liked it. I think you’re hot, too. Especially in the slutty dress.”

She put her hands on her hips. “You said it wasn’t slutty.”

“I lied.”

He bent his head and lightly brushed his mouth against hers. He felt her quick intake of breath and wondered if she would pull back.

She didn’t. They both stayed exactly where they were, only their lips touching.

He wanted to pull her close and feel her against him. He wanted to deepen the kiss and taste her. But he didn’t. Not just yet. He straightened.

She stared at him. “That was confusing.”

“Then I’m doing it wrong.”

She smiled. “No, I mean I thought you said passion consumes.”

“Not sex. That kind of passion is just fine.”

“Of course it is. How very convenient.”

“I’m a lucky guy.”

She laughed. “I have no idea what to say to that, so I’m going to take my slutty dress self back to my office.”

“Feel free to model for me anytime.”