‘I’m buying one of Becca’s paintings. Come and pretend with me that it’s brilliant.’
I chuckled and then immediately felt bad, biting my lip to stall the sound. ‘I’m so glad I’m not the only one that doesn’t get it.’
His eyes darted around the room, his lips curled in amusement. ‘Well, thankfully these people know more about art than we do, so I’ll at least get a return on my investment.’
He kept his arm around me and guided me through the gallery and behind a couple of walls, where Becca stood under a huge monstrosity of splashed paintwork. I almost tripped over my own feet when I saw who she appeared to be arguing with.
Tattoo Guy.
Crap.
‘You okay?’ Malcolm glanced down at me, frowning as he felt the tension in my body.
I smiled brightly. Rule number one: never let him see you as anything but positive and charming. ‘I’m great.’
Tattoo Guy was grinning at Becca, his hand on her hip, trying to pull her to him, his expression bordering on appeasing. Wilfully, I ignored the catch in my breath at the flash of his wicked white smile. Becca still looked a bit put out, but I totally understood when she stepped into his embrace. I thought any woman would have forgiven the bastard anything when he smiled at her like that.
Averting my eyes from Tattoo Guy, I followed Malcolm as he came to a stop and the couple turned to us. Becca’s cheeks were flushed pink, and her eyes sparkled with excitement. ‘Just ignore me and Cam. We’re just fighting because he’s an eejit.’
I didn’t look at him, but I heard him chuckle. ‘No, we’re fighting because we have different taste in art.’
‘Cam hates my artwork,’ Becca said with a huff. ‘He can’t be like other boyfriends and lie at least. No. Brutally honest, this one. At least Malcolm likes my work. Did Mal tell you he’s buying my painting, Jo?’
You’d think I’d be jealous of Malcolm’s obvious affection for Becca, and I know it sounds horrible, but until I saw her artwork I was a little jealous. I wasn’t exceptionally smart, I didn’t draw, I didn’t dance, I didn’t sing, I was just an okay cook … Thankfully, I was pretty. Tall with legs that went on forever, I’d been told countless times I had a good body and great skin. Combine those with huge green eyes, long, thick strawberry blonde hair, and delicate features and you were left with an attractive package – one that had been turning heads since I was a teenager. Aye, I didn’t have much, but what I did have, I used to my family’s advantage.
To know that Becca was cute and talented had worried me a little. Perhaps Malcolm would get bored of me and go back to her? Actually, though, Malcolm’s less-than-enthusiastic response to her artwork made me feel better about his relationship with her. Not that that made any rational kind of sense.
‘He did. Good choice.’ I smiled at him and I could tell he was dying to laugh. His hand slid from my waist down to cup my hip and I moved in closer to him, chancing a glance at my phone. Still nothing from Cole.
‘Jo, this is Becca’s boyfriend, Cameron,’ Malcolm suddenly said, and I drew my head up quickly to finally study the man I had been avoiding looking at for the last few seconds. Our eyes met and I felt that frisson of excitement ripple through me again.
His eyes were cobalt blue and seemed to be stripping me back to nothing as they perused me for a second time. I watched his gaze quickly flicker over me, noting Malcolm’s hand on my waist. I stiffened as Cameron took us in, drew some kind of conclusion about us, and slammed his expression shut with the hard pressing together of his lips.
‘Hi,’ I managed and he gave me a barely there nod. The blaze in his eyes from earlier had definitely gone out.
Becca started chattering to Malcolm about the painting, so I took the opportunity to check my phone once again. At a disgruntled snort, my head shot up, my eyes clashing with Cameron’s. I couldn’t understand the distaste in his expression or why I felt the sudden need to tell him to go fuck himself. Faced with animosity or aggression I tended to flinch and not utter a word. In this case, the condemnation and judgement in this tattooed idiot’s face made me want to slam my fist into it and break his already imperfect nose. It had a little bump near the bridge that should have marred his good looks, but instead just added to his ruggedness.
I bit my tongue before I did something out of character, and let my eyes fall to his tattoos. On his right forearm was beautiful black script – two words I couldn’t make out without giving away that I was trying to read them. On his left arm was a colourful and detailed image. It looked like a dragon, but I couldn’t be sure, and Becca moved closer to Cameron’s side, obscuring it from sight.
For a moment I wondered how Becca could go from dating thirtysomething Malcolm in his tailored suits to twentysomething Cameron with his seventies aviator watch and leather bracelets, a Def Leppard T-shirt that had been run through the wash too many times, and ratty Levi’s.