Marriage Lessons Read online

  “The latest in yoga-inspired formal wear,” Louis said with an admirably straight face. If it hadn’t been for the wicked gleam in his eye, he would’ve appeared to actually believe that nonsense. Annabelle swallowed a laugh and kept her expression cordially blank.

  Regina seemed to accept his statement at face value. “So colorful. Very fitting for someone so creative as you.”

  As Regina tipped her head to give him a flirty look from beneath her lashes, Annabelle knew it was time for her to bail. If the woman was going to flirt with Louis, then Annabelle needed to be on the other side of the gallery, not watching and listening. Otherwise, Annabelle was going to be taking off her earrings and laying Regina out on the gallery floor. She shifted away, releasing his arm and ready to give her excuses about needing to talk to someone else, but his hand clamped over hers, holding it against his arm. She tugged gently, not wanting to unbalance him again, but really wanting to get away before Regina turned up the volume on her flirting.

  Louis didn’t yield, and her hand remained trapped between his and the solid steel of his arm. Barely clinging to her polite smile, she shot him a sideways glare, but he focused on Regina. From the tucked-in corner of his mouth, she could tell that he knew she was sending eyeball lasers toward him and that he was amused by her annoyance...as usual. With a silent sigh, she quit trying to free herself and settled in for a few uncomfortable minutes of watching Regina flirting with Louis.

  “When is your next show?” Regina asked, smoothing an invisible strand of mahogany hair back into her perfect twist. She didn’t seem to have any wispy bits that refused to be contained, like the ones Annabelle fought with every time she tried to put her hair up.

  “Ah...?” He rolled his eyes toward Annabelle in an obvious hunt for the answer. She stifled a smile. It’d drive her crazy not to know her schedule for the next month or so, especially if she were the one with an upcoming show, but Louis didn’t seem too bothered by it.

  “Three weeks.” Glancing at Louis’s profile, Annabelle detected the slightest wince. From his sudden gloom, she guessed that his latest painting was still frozen in the early stages. A small bubble of anxiety tried to break open inside her, but she pushed it away. He’d finish everything he needed to get done in time for his show. He always did.

  “Right. Suppose I should get to painting, then.”

  Regina must’ve ignored or not noticed the slight panic in his words, because she gave another one of her tinkling laughs, as if Louis had made the most wonderful joke she’d ever heard.

  “Louis! There you are!”

  Annabelle bit back a groan as Harper Addison, another wealthy art collector and frequent visitor to the gallery, joined their little group. It wasn’t that Annabelle didn’t like the woman. In fact, the redhead’s biting sarcasm was hilarious, but Harper didn’t try to hide her interest in Louis. Even though Annabelle didn’t think she had a chance of Louis seeing her as more than a movie buddy and a smartphone with legs, it was still hard to watch other women flirt with him when she knew she had no reason for objecting.

  She shifted, determined to make her excuses and escape this time, but Louis drew his arm in close to his body, trapping her fingers between the rock of his biceps and his hard side. It didn’t hurt, but there was no way she was getting free unless she put a lot of effort into it, and that would be extremely obvious and embarrassing.

  “Louis,” she hissed as quietly as she could.

  “Don’t leave me.” His mutter was just loud enough for her to hear before his voice changed back to its normal volume. “Hello, Harper.”

  Harper leaned in, as if to hug him, but Louis didn’t release Annabelle or move closer, so Harper hovered, bent forward slightly in an awkward pose. “Louis! Where’s my hug?” She straightened and narrowed her eyes at him, her gaze flicking back and forth between him and Annabelle, lingering on her fingers tucked into his elbow. Although his grip on her hand had eased, Annabelle knew he’d clamp down again if she tried to slip away. “What’s going on between the two of you? Are you fishing in the company pond? That never ends well, you know.”

  When Louis stayed silent for a second too long, both Harper and Regina widened their eyes, and Annabelle knew she had to stop this gossip train in its tracks. “No fishing is happening in this pond.” She tried to keep her voice light and not reveal her disappointment. What she wouldn’t give for there to be some fishing, some hot, sweaty, naked fishing. Heat rose in her belly, and she firmly quashed it. Now was not the time to be thinking about fishing naked with Louis, not while these two were watching every micro expression with a mixture of prurient interest and disbelief. “Louis’s leg’s a bit sore, so I’m his moving, well-dressed wall he can lean on.” Although Louis gave a small huff, he didn’t challenge her explanation. He was probably well aware that admitting a weakness was better than telling the women that he didn’t want to be left alone with them.

  Regina gave the tiniest, most well-bred snort and said under her breath, “Well dressed?” It was close enough to inaudible that Annabelle decided to pretend she didn’t hear that.

  “Your leg is sore?” Harper frowned at Louis’s lower half. “The one that’s left?”

  With a choke of laughter, Louis said, “No. The residual leg.” When the two women stared at him uncomprehendingly, he patted his left thigh and clarified. “My stump.”

  Regina looked uncomfortable for a slight second before she regained control of her expression, but it was Harper’s expression that rubbed Annabelle the wrong way. The woman looked a little too fascinated.

  “It looks like the Adamsons are interested in Desi’s Cutting Hay.” Annabelle peered over Regina’s shoulder as she lied her ass off. “We should go talk to them.”

  “Both of you?” Regina asked. “Why does Louis have to do that? Isn’t that your job?”

  “If your...leg is hurting, maybe you should sit down.” Harper’s voice was a purr as she held out a hand. “You can hold on to me if you need help.”

  Before Annabelle could defend herself from Regina, Louis beat her to it. “As the gallery owner, it’s actually my job. Annabelle was kind enough to help me out tonight.” That wasn’t quite true, but Annabelle didn’t challenge it. Louis’s defense was making her stomach flutter in a really nice way. “Excuse us, please.”

  Without allowing time for either woman to protest, he rushed to the other side of the gallery, towing Annabelle along with him.

  “You’re moving pretty fast for someone whose leg is hurting.” Keeping her voice low, Annabelle gave a little skip to keep up with him.

  “It’s the adrenaline.”

  “Adrenaline?” She gave him a skeptical sideways look.

  He gave her a straight-faced nod. “My heart’s beating as fast as a gazelle’s being stalked by a lion.”

  “Right.” She didn’t believe for a second that he was at all scared of Regina and Harper, no matter how predatory they’d been acting. “Where are you dragging me, by the way? The Adamsons are that way.” She tipped her head discreetly toward the couple.

  “We need alcohol.” He lifted two glasses of champagne from a passing server’s tray. “Here. I know you normally don’t drink at openings and exhibits and such, but I think tonight calls for a little liquid assistance.”

  The thought was tempting, but she passed her glass to Louis. “My filter’s strained enough as it is. One drink, and I’ll be telling everyone what I really think, and that will not be good for business.”

  When he gave her an exaggerated look of disappointment, she smirked at him.

  “Keep two-fisting it. That’ll explain your fashion choice.” Without giving him time to respond, she turned and started making her way across the room to Desi, who was standing alone and starting to look a little nervous again.

  “Annabelle Shay...” he called quietly after her, but she just gave him a subtle wave and kept walking. She had
to be careful on nights like this one, when Louis was acting like they were a team and offering her champagne. It’d be too easy to fall in with his teasing and shenanigans and forget that this wasn’t a date they were on. Although she loved having a job that felt like she was playing, she couldn’t forget that it was, indeed, a job...and Louis was her boss.

  Chapter Five

  As she approached Desi, the artist beamed at her, holding out her hands. Annabelle clasped them and squeezed gently, grinning back. “They loooovvvve you,” she said in a quiet singsong. “Excellent work, Desi.”

  Desi gave the quietest squee possible. “I can’t believe it. You would not believe the nightmares I’ve had the past few nights—in the past month.”

  “Remember this next time.” Annabelle tried to give her a stern look, but it was impossible to keep the smile off her face. Desi’s obvious joy was too contagious. “Before your next opening, when you’re looking like you’re going to hurl all over the gallery—”

  “I did not!”

  Desi’s indignant expression made Annabelle laugh, even as she fixed the artist with a look. “You did. You were positively green. Next time that happens, I’m going to show you the video I took of all these people fawning over you and your genius.”

  “Please. They didn’t fawn.” Desi paused and then leaned closer. “Did they really fawn? Show me the video!”

  “You were there! How did you miss the fawning?”

  “I felt like I was about to pass out for the first hour! I didn’t even know what I was saying!”

  Annabelle laughed again. She started to pull her phone from her pocket when Velvet swooped in and wrapped her arms around Desi. Although her eyes widened, Desi recovered quickly from her startled moment and returned the hug.

  “Only you could make me want to stare at realistic ranch scenes for hours,” Velvet said as she released Desi and stepped back, gesturing at the paintings surrounding them. “You’re such an incredible artist.”

  Desi’s smile was huge. “Thank you, Velvet. That means so much coming from you.”

  Catching Desi’s gaze over the other woman’s shoulder, Annabelle gave her an I-told-you-so grin. As she glanced away from the chatting pair, a discreet wave from a man standing in front of one of Desi’s paintings caught her attention.

  “I’ll talk to you later, Desi. Duty calls. It looks like someone else wants to throw money at you.”

  He did, indeed. After processing the sale, Annabelle added a discreet sold sign to the label next to the painting. At the end of the week, she would ship all the purchased paintings to their new owners and the artist picked up anything that hadn’t sold. From the reaction of the crowd, Annabelle had a feeling that Desi wouldn’t be taking much home at the end of the week.

  She smiled when she saw Desi was surrounded by an admiring crowd again. Sneaking a glance at her cell phone, Annabelle mentally sighed with relief. There was less than an hour before the event was scheduled to end. Despite the practicality of her shoes, her feet were starting to hurt, and she’d just about used up her supply of polite chitchat. She needed some time in her pajamas, binge-watching some mindless but entertaining show in order to recharge.

  “Annabelle.”

  Closing her eyes for just a second, she mentally gave a heavy sigh before plastering on her best gallery smile and turning toward the man approaching her.

  “Max. How nice that you made it.” She did her best to sound sincere while lying through her teeth.

  When he stopped a polite distance away without offering a hand to shake or trying to kiss her cheek, her internal sigh changed to one of relief. If this was the result of Louis threatening to ban him, then Annabelle wished he’d done it months ago.

  “Isn’t Desi’s work amazing?” she asked, waving a hand to indicate the paintings displayed around them.

  The sound he made, a sort of skeptical hmm, made her bristle. Not only was she ready and willing to throw down to defend Desi’s art, but it was such a condescendingly typical response for Max to make. Even though she was in polite gallery mode, she couldn’t let the implied insult go.

  “You don’t think so?” She couldn’t manage to erase the sharp edge on her words, and she wasn’t sure she really wanted to. Max’s ego needed some metaphorical slicing and dicing. “Just wait a few years. Once her career really takes off and her paintings are selling at ten times what they’re priced at now, you’ll be kicking yourself for dismissing her work.”

  “Oh, I’m sure she’ll do well.” The careless disdain in his tone didn’t match his words. “This kind of thing just isn’t my cup of tea.”

  Biting back the annoyed things she really wanted to say, Annabelle smoothed her expression with some effort. “What is your cup of tea?”

  His eyes lit as he shifted closer. An automatic flicker of discomfort passed through her, but she resisted the urge to step back, since she was pretty sure he wasn’t trying to get into her personal space to make her uneasy. Lowering his voice, he spoke quietly, as if sharing a valuable secret. “Why have what everyone else has, when I can purchase something truly original?”

  Her brows drew together in confusion. “Desi’s paintings are originals. Were you thinking they were prints?” She wasn’t sure how he could make that mistake when looking at the thick, textured surface of Desi’s paint-laden canvases.

  “No.” By the way he huffed the denial, he was offended that she’d thought he could’ve made that mistake. “I said truly original. How precious can something be when an artist is prolific?”

  The conversation wasn’t making sense. “A painting’s value doesn’t lessen just because the artist creates another piece.”

  His shrug was just a fussy twitch of his shoulders, and the movement viscerally reminded her how much she disliked Max. “We’ll need to agree to disagree, then.”

  “What’s the alternative?” Despite his attempt to end the discussion, she wasn’t ready to let it go yet, not until she was able to convince him how ridiculous his theory was. “Do you restrict yourself to only buying work from artists who create one thing and then quit? The one-hit wonders of the art world?”

  “Yes. Those are truly one-of-a-kind pieces, with nothing like them in the world. What’s the point of owning a Carrick or a Delacroix when I could have the Fabritius or the Villers.” His face was positively glowing with fervor, distracting her from the ridiculousness of his argument. She’d met enthusiastic art collectors before, but Max’s reverent tone was bordering on the obsessive. He hadn’t even sounded that worshipful when talking about Velvet’s artwork.

  Shaking off the creepy feeling his fervent artist worship was giving her, she focused on the flaws in his argument. “Just because they’re most famous for one painting doesn’t mean they didn’t create anything else. In fact, Villers—”

  A hand flattened against her lower back, and she broke off mid-sentence, turning to see who was standing behind her, touching her. When she saw it was Louis, her muscles relaxed. Max shifted away from them slightly, making her realize how close he’d gotten during their conversation. It almost seemed as if he’d been concerned about keeping anyone else from hearing them, and she swallowed her amusement. Max, being Max, obviously was worried that someone else would overhear and become interested in his dumb one-hit-wonder art collection idea.

  “Max,” Louis said in greeting. “I’m surprised to see you here. Didn’t think Desi’s style is up your alley.”

  “It’s a bit too realistically rural for my taste, but it never hurts to explore outside my comfort zone.” The undercurrent of patronizing smarm in his voice made it hard for Annabelle to resist rolling her eyes. She very carefully kept her gaze fixed on Max as he continued talking, since she knew that she’d lose her polite mask if Louis made any sort of face at her. “I didn’t have any other prior engagements this evening, so I tagged along with Velvet.”

  “Ve
lvet came with you?” Louis looked around the room in search of her.

  As Max made an assenting sound, Annabelle said, “She was talking with Desi over by Skidding Logs a few minutes ago.”

  “There she is.” Louis nudged Annabelle forward. Before Max could say anything else, they were already moving away. “Always fun talking with you, Max. We’ll catch up at Velvet’s show.”

  “Good to see you, Max,” she called, trying to keep her amusement tamped down. As soon as they were out of Max’s earshot, she said under her breath, “Velvet’s not over here. Why are you trying to escape Max? I thought the two of you were friends.”

  Louis hunched one shoulder in a shrug. “We were, but now that I know how he talks to you when I’m not there, I can hardly stand to be around him anymore.”

  The fact that Louis believed her so implicitly made her want to hug him. She restricted herself to just smiling broadly instead. “Where are we really going?”

  “Somewhere we can hide from Max...and Harper and Regina.” He’d tipped his head toward her, and his mouth was so close to her ear as he spoke that his warm breath gave her goose bumps. “They’re after me again, and the champagne isn’t helping, even though I drank yours and mine and then some more of mine.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. Having Louis close by made her happy. When she saw Regina and Harper heading their way, Annabelle’s desire to smile disappeared in an instant. “Are they ganging up on you?”

  “Yes, and it’s terrible.”

  His melodramatic tipsiness amused her, even as he steered her quickly toward the door to the studio. His warm palm was still pressed against her spine, making her wish for a wistful moment that her dress were backless.

  “Hurry!” This time, his lips actually brushed against the edge of her ear, and her breath caught in a small, inward hiccup. “They’re gaining on us!”