“What a gorgeous dress!” Michelle added, diffusing some of the tension. It was hard to tell if she was genuinely oblivious to her husband’s wandering eye, or simply resigned to look the other way in an effort to keep the peace.
I smiled at her. “Thank you.”
“Mason,” she said, “as soon as your girl has a finished piece, I want you to call me. Any time, day or night.”
“In other words—” Kurt winked at me. “—she wants first dibs on your freshman thesis, just in case your father’s talent is hereditary.”
“Don’t make fun.” She slapped her husband’s arm. “I’ve been in this business long enough to know that talent is just as much nature as it is nurture. It would be a tragedy to see even an ounce of that talent wasted on school.”
Mason squeezed my shoulder. I leaned into his side. There was, of course, no way I could’ve inherited his talent, but I had been soaking up his wisdom on technique and composition since I arrived. He motioned for the waiter and placed a generous order of wine for the table and an array of tapas-style dishes.
Two other couples joined us, plus a few stragglers on their way back from a concert. Mason’s popularity was more than justified, but it was easy to spot the difference between folks who genuinely adored his work versus those who simply wanted to boast about having dinner with Mason Black.
An hour into the meal, we were about to order another round of drinks when a familiar blonde strutted up to the table dressed in a baby-pink top and leather pants.
“So sorry we’re late,” Krista said. A lanky musician type with long, greasy hair sauntered in behind her looking bored. “I forgot Dez had a show in Brooklyn.”
The artist couple rose from the table to kiss Krista’s cheeks. Her gaze flittered toward Mason, and the lack of surprise on her face told me everything I needed to know: she knew he would be here tonight.
“It’s so good to see you.” She leaned across the table, aiming her kiss for his mouth instead of his cheek. He dodged her affection deftly. Still, it took everything I had not to shank her with the cheese knife. “It feels like it’s been forever since we got together.”
He smiled politely. “It has been a while.”
Michelle motioned for the couple next to her to make room for the new arrivals. Krista and her companion scooted along the bench until they were directly across from my daddy and me.
She caught my hand before I could tuck it away.
“Jett, it is so nice to finally meet you. Your father’s told me so much about you.”
“Likewise.” I bared my teeth. As far as I knew, he hadn’t spoken to her since she came down with the flu. Had he invited her here tonight without telling me? “Are you feeling better?”
“Yes, thank goodness. I’m so bummed I wasn’t able to work with your father on his current project. It sounded really special.”
“Wait.” Michelle turned to Mason. “I thought you were using Krista for this project.”
Mason downed the remaining glug of wine in his glass and then poured three fresh glasses for himself and the newcomers. “Sadly, Krista was unable to—”
“He’s painting me,” I said.
Krista nearly choked on her Merlot. I smoothed my lips together to stop myself from meeting her look of horror with a grin.
Mason’s hand tightened on my thigh. He was not happy with my outburst, that much was obvious, not that I could blame him. I was out of control. Something reptilian slithered beneath my skin, provoking an itch I couldn’t scratch without tearing myself and everything around me to pieces.
“Wow, that’s...” Krista blinked repeatedly. “I’ve done my fair share of nude modeling over the years, but I’m honestly not sure I could ever do something like that. I mean, pose for my own father...like that.”
“Pose how?” Michelle asked. Clearly, Mason hadn’t filled her in on the details of his newest painting.
“I’ve only seen the preliminary sketches,” Krista said, “but from what I remember they were very graphic.?
?
"My father's been sketching me since I was little,” I said matter-of-factly.
“Well yeah,” she said, “but surely not like this.”
The entire booth seemed to hold its breath. Mason nudged my foot under the table.
Tread carefully, baby girl.