Didi had walked into her trap. Whatever the witch had been planning, she’d accomplished, because people were looking their way. Seeing red, Didi shifted to pitch the contents of her cup at Amber’s face. But just as her hand tilted toward the girl, who was clearly waiting for it, strong fingers closed around her wrist. In quick movements, she was relieved of the cup and maneuvered behind a fuming Caleb.
“Amber, lower your voice before you embarrass yourself,” he said through his teeth, anger radiating off him.
Amber merely tilted her chin up in defiance.
“Whatever it is you think you’re doing, it won’t change anything,” he added in a harsh tone. “Get it into your head. There’s never going to be anything between us.”
“What do you think your father will say when I tell him about how rude she’s being to me?” she hissed.
Squaring his shoulders, Caleb took a step forward. “I’d like to see you try.”
“See if I don’t.”
“Amber,” he whispered her name like a curse. “You’re forgetting that you agreed to no strings attached with me senior year. Weren’t you telling your friends that we were actually going out? That you finally—what was the word you used?” Amber paled, but Caleb continued anyway. “Ah, that’s right. That you finally landed me? What would your friends think if it got out that our relationship was nothing more than me having a good time?”
“They will believe me over you, of course.” But doubt had already crept into her voice.
“Not when they hear the recording of you agreeing to my terms.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“I’d like to think you know me better than that.”
Eyes brimming, Amber backed away. Hatred for Caleb oozed out of her like heat from a fire. Her lips twisted as her face settled into a scowl. She must have seen the truth in Caleb’s stern expression because she hurried away.
Caleb turned toward Didi and looked her in the eye, all his previous anger turning into concern. “Are you all right, Didi?”
“You didn’t really record your conversation with her, did you?” she asked, giving the place where Amber once stood a glance.
“She doesn’t know that.”
She stepped closer. “You just defended me.”
“Actually . . .” Scratching the back of his head, he grinned. “I was saving Amber from your wrath. I have money on you winning, but I don’t think everyone is ready for a UFC cage match to play out. There are kids present, after all.”
“You don’t think she’ll actually tell your father, do you?”
Caleb stroked his knuckles down her cheek. “Let me worry about that.”
“But your dad—”
“Won’t be a problem. Trust me.”
A hum of appreciation escaped her throat. “You don’t know how unbelievably hot it is that you think I’d win against Ashley.”
“Oh yeah?” He circled her waist with his arms, pulling her closer.
“Yeah.” She shifted onto her toes and kissed his cheek. Then before he could respond, she pushed back and said, “Tomorrow, my house.”
“Your house,” he repeated. Desire ignited in his gaze, turning the blue into molten cobalt.
She nodded, licking her bottom lip. “I think it’s time you made good on your promise to pose for me.”
Sixteen
CALEB SAT ON the stool Didi had parked him on in the middle of what she called her happy place. He could see why. One wall was made entirely of glass, bringing in natural light he had read somewhere that artists craved. Hanging along the rest of the walls were prints of van Gogh’s The Starry Night, The Kiss by Gustav Klimt, and one of Claude Monet’s most famous paintings, San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk—just to name a few. He silently thanked the art interpretation elective he had taken junior year. So much more useful than pottery making.
While Didi set up a fresh canvas on the easel, he continued to study the space and noticed a theme emerge in her tastes. She loved golden tones as seen in The Kiss, the bright orange of Monet, and the stark blues of The Starry Night. The paintings on the floor, resting against the walls, echoed many of the colors used by the artists she admired. True to her word during the unfortunate encounter with his father, Didi painted whatever she liked. From still lifes to portraits to something blue, reminiscent of Picasso, she certainly let inspiration drive her.
“Is that the pond from the garden party?” He pointed at a canvas in the corner. The mix of green and blue brought out the bright purple of the water lilies. There was something so serene about the scene, yet it had depth, drawing the eye into the farthest reaches of the canvas.
Didi glanced over her shoulder at the painting. “Yes. I was trying to capture the frog on the pad. He looked like the king of the pond.” Her lips quirked into a quick smile.