“OrI could call the paps again and find a subway grate à laMarilyn Monroe so my dress flies above my underwear,” I suggested sweetly. I wasn’t asking to go to a nightclub, for crying out loud.Work with me.
“Say no more.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll find the nearest craft store.”
It hadn’t been the cozy adventure I’d been seeking, but we were back in the armored Ford Explorer and headed to the closest arts and crafts store in no time, where I purchased a thick sketchpad, along with a charcoal pencil set that included erasers, sharpener knives, and a double-end pencil extender.
I’d used Siri to find out what tattoo artists normally used when they sketched.
I made my way to the checkout line, before Ransom—who was suspiciously quiet, even by his standards—put his hand on my shoulder. Marking the second time today that he’d touched me, casually. And the second time I hadn’t hated it.
I couldn’t let myself dwell on that. It probably meant nothing. I mean, if he liked me even a fraction, he wouldn’t insist on putting me through the misery of staying in Texas, would he?
“What?” I turned around.
“While we’re here…” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully.
I wasn’t following. I cocked my head. “You want to hit the yarn section and learn how to knit?”
“You know me too well,” he groused. “Oryou can also buy a few drawing guides. Get the basics, you know.Drawing for Dummies. Set yourself up for success.”
“Why would I do that?” I only doodled for myself. There was no danger in that. No potential failure. “It’s just a hobby.”
“It’s shit you put on your body afterwards.” He started striding purposefully back to the appropriate section. He jammed his hand into a fully-stocked shelf, pulling out a thick book. “Shading, Texture, and Optical Illusions. You wanna tell me you don’t need this?” He waved the book between us.
I plucked it from his hand and flipped through the pages hurriedly, expecting lots of text. I was surprised to find none. It was all step-by-step tutorials on how to draw. With pictures. It wasamazing. My heart picked up speed. This was the first time in years I’d felt like I could advance and educate myself through something other than vids, TED talks, and audiobooks.
You can hold a book and understand it.
“Guess it can’t hurt. Do they have more like this one?” I tossed the guide into our shopping cart.
He took another one off the shelf.
Realistic Drawing Secrets.
“Hmm, I don’t know about that one.”
“You need to up your game.” He slam-dunked it into the cart. “Another?”
“I mean, I guess. Whatever.”
Soon, the cart was overflowing.
How to Draw Anime.
Artist’s Guide to Realistic Animals.
How to Draw with Photorealism.
How to Draw Modern Florals.
The options were endless. I wanted to gobble everything up.
Tapping my foot against the floor while we were waiting in line for the checkout, I glanced at the time on my phone. Ransom stared, amusement dancing in his forest-green eyes.
“Did you think about what you want to do with your life yet?”
“Now’s not the time,” I barked at him impatiently. Must he rain on my parade, just when I was feeling a little better and participating in what he wanted? “I’ll figure something out. Don’t rush me.”
Then—lo and behold—something amazing happened. Ransom Lockwood let loose an actualsmile. It was small, it was hesitant, but it was there.