Johnny Blue (2 page)

I spotted an arch at the end of the dining room on the right
.
A few squeaky steps revealed hanging copper pots!
A
gasp
and more snaps
.
This man was hardly a beggar
.

I finally
squalked
my way into the giant space of the main area
.
So much light everywhere. And all the white walls made it even brighter. I considered the windows that lined the longer wall before me in an oddly sporadic pattern
before noticing a
few even dotted the ceiling in the same way
. Well, at least it matched the h
eavily framed
art
work
s
hanging in
illogical pattern on every wall
.
Did he like the chaos?  Or was it more of a roll with the flow?  No way could he not understand symmetry. It had to be taste, nobody painted that good without
equilibrium
.

I looked left and aimed the camera at a corner full of easels and canvases.
T
he rapid
shutter sounds and shoe squeaks
sounded like a giant nest of birds taking flight with the mo
mma
squawking in protest. I squeak-pivoted right and aimed the camera at black leather furniture and a wall of books beyond it
.
More delicate antique tables of various sizes and height
.
Un—
believable.
S-snap, s-snap, s-snap.

Okay,
Ko
s
hak
, w
here are your scruples?
This is
trespassing.

I huffed at my intrusive conscious.
I’m not
stealing,
I’m just looking
,
for Pete’s sake
. I quick
ened my pace t
o the art side of the space, beginning to tip-toe at halfway, feeling like I could be heard clear to town. Not to mention it just seemed unprofessional for an investigator of any sort to make that much noise
.

Nearing the art space, I noticed a large arch in the left wall, framed with tied-back white curtains. The man liked white, and light, that seemed obvious. My heart
sped up at spying bedroom furniture. Whoa-whoa,
lookie
at Mr. Fancy pants.
I snapped pic
tures
of
polished
,
heavy wood
.
Expensive wood.
My CSI unease grew. Our pitiful little peddler was not what he seemed
.
But why the facade?
 

I turned my attention to the art section finally. Moving from canvas to canvas, I snapped pic
ture
s until my conscience became unbearable
.
This is private
—
a journal
—you have no right
.
But my fingers kept a-snapping all the same.
So much blue, and such beautiful hues of it in the row of
artwork
.
I counted seven
.
I peered beyond the colle
c
tion before me, and saw layers of paintings along the wall, stacked against one another
.
Busy little bee, wasn’t he? 

I returned my attention to the pictures before me. The images were mostly var
i
ous
landscapes
.
But something was…
I lowered the phone and let my gaze pass
slowly
over all of them
.
What was my brain picking up? 

An entire minute later, I
got it.
Bright nights.
And one person in each.
Or
a
dark figure.
More like a shadow of somebody.
Male?
Hard to be sure
.

Totally fascinating how the pictures wer
e of night, and yet so bright.
The contr
a
diction seemed surreal.
And inviting
.
Safe,
yet
soft light in
the
dark.

I stilled the stirring inside me that the images evoked, promising myself I’d po
n
der it later.
Maybe.

I spotted a lone canvas under a sheet to the far right, facing a single small wi
n
dow. An uncanny and ridiculous anticipation moved my legs toward it. It was one of those unexplainable things, you know it’s wrong, and yet knew you’d look because something inside said you were supposed to.

I eased my guilt, agreeing not to photograph this one
.

Carefully, I slid the white sheet off and was immediately sucked in by the dark colors
.
Blues and blacks mostly
.
I angled my head, trying to understand what he was trying to say with the swirl
ing, almost angry strokes.
Or passionate.

“Hi there.”

I screamed and spun around to the deep voice just behind me, only to scream again and spin back the other way
.
Oh shit oh shit oh shit
! H
alf-naked man behind me!

“Sorry.
”
His voice lolled, w
arm and kind
.
“Didn’t mean to startle you, I uh, saw you here when I got out of the shower.”

“
Uhh
…” My mind raced for an excuse. He seemed to think it was fine—why would it be?  “I—I heard
sounds
outsid
e and I followed them in here.
Thought maybe some
body…
might be in trouble.”
I yanked my ponytail out of my trousers and held it like a lifeline while waiting forever in the sudden silence with eyes clenched
;
waited
for the hatchet in my skull, the knife at my throat, my spine
.

“Well, that was nice of you.”

His towering frame appeared on my right and I strained not to jerk left.
“You like it? I’ve been working on it at night for a while
.
Every full moon.”

My heart thundered as I devoured his body with only my eyeballs. Like a… god… a moon god
.
Look at that hair
.
Black
.
Straight
.
Wet
.
Ending just past his amazing shoulders
.
My eyes roamed over muscles that seemed to glow with light.
Such tight skin.
Was it as silky as it looked? 
And my lord, what a voice
.
Felt like rough velvet
.
I swallowed when my eyeballs made it to his jeans that he filled so perfectly.
Wait, did he say paint? Surely he wasn’t the
town’s mysterious mural
painter, no, that man was a beggar with a beard
.

He turned and I averted my gaze to the floor, wondering how the hell I could’ve possibly missed
even the hint of
such features
.
He was always layered with clothes that’s how
.

“So, I’ll… I’ll be going
.
Now that I see—everybody is
-
is—okay.”

“Why were you taking so many pictures?” The question was soft, like he was just curious.

“Oh,” I gasped, squeaking my shoes restlessly on the floor, “Well uh…” I shrugged a little. “I—was amazed actually
.
It’s so beautiful in here.” I looked all around.
“Remark
able in fact.”
I nodded and smiled, praying he bought that small bit of truth. I pointed to the ceiling. “Nice windows up there.”

“You live in town?” he asked, quietly
.
Or maybe stated as he hooked a thumb in his front pocket and raked his other hand through his wet, gorgeous hair.

I cleared my throat, praying my voice didn’t give away how much he affected me.
“On the outskirts, actually.
”
I bit my tongue on divulging all my personal info
r
mation like I normally did when nervous.

He looked down a second and I waited
.
I got a little nervous when he didn’t say anymore, but by conversation standards, I was pretty sure it was his turn to speak. He finally aimed his eyes at me and stole my breath
.
Such brilliant blue
.
Clear and bright under dark black brows
.
“Would you… mind staying for coffee?  I mean, since you’re here
.
I don’t get many visitors.”

Chapte
r Two

Stay for
coffee?

He turned his gaze out the window and I studied his profile, trying to see ev
i
dence of the loneliness I thought I heard in his voice.

Guess I owed him that much
.
“Well, I suppose a cup wouldn’t hur
t
.
Only had one so far today.
Usually have at least three.” So hard to make my normally deep voice, light, without sounding like an air head
.
And minding my Cajun accent took direct e
f
fort. But I hated how uneducated it sounded on other people, and it surely didn’t match up with my looks. Not that I was
miss
America, but I’d had enough compliments from male town-folk to know I wasn’t a toad
.

He gave me those beautiful blues and a bonus smile that made my heart race. “Great. I’ll get it on.
”

I smiled nervously back then watched him move with causal ease toward the kitchen
.
Never saw such a white man before
.
Not around here
.
I stared at the deep dimples on his lower back near his waist band
.
Heat pooled in my stomach and I rea
l
ized I should follow him
.
Halfway there, I stopped
.
“You mind if I take my shoes off?” I called, “
Kinda
sounds like I’m calling possums or
somethin
’.
”

Before I could regret the stupid comment, his deep laughter strummed through me
.

“You call possums?” He shot a glance at me with that sexy half grin.

Heat flooded my face
.
“Nah, not really.”
I slid off my sneakers and scooted them to the side with a foot then entered the shoebox-sized kitchen, shaped like a U.

“Not really?”

“I mean, no, of course not
.
” I waved a hand, coming to stand at the island for two in the center.

“It would totally be okay with me.
”
He set two red mugs on the island’s butcher block top and hit me with those eyes.

“Totally?”
I managed to tease back.
“Where you from anyway?
You’re obviously not from around these parts.”

“Eh,” he shrugged, “here and there.”

I tore my eyes from his broad glowing chest and ran into his direct gaze. I quic
k
ly looked around the small kitchen
.
“Can’t believe what you’ve done to this place
.
Rea
l
ly nice.
”

He turned to the sink and my eyes swerved back to his body
.
I watched the bea
u
tiful phenomena of rippling muscles in his arms and back as he got the pot ready for fresh coffee
.
I forced my
attention to
the pot
.
“I love those aluminum drip pots.” I ma
n
aged to keep my voice between high and low but I couldn’t manage keeping my eyes of
f
his body
.

He glanced over his shoulder and my cheeks burned at being caught gawking
.
Again.

Good grief
.
I scratched my cheek and stared at the copper pots hanging above the tiny island
.
“You got yourself some nice
cookware
there
.
” I nodded at them
.
“
D
o they actually work?”