dust motes and horses.
He stared at the canvas sitting on the easel, an unfinished landscape that had been giving him fits. It was a study of his mountain at sunset, and he hadn’t yet gotten the red right where the light reflected on the tip. He mixed too bright or too dull, too orange or too blue.
An old enemy—frustration in his lack of ability—ate at him. Buyers might praise his talent, but he knew better. He knew how far he missed the mark of perfection. He knew how arrogant he was to even try to reproduce what Mother Nature had already presented with such unadulterated splendor.
Still, he strove to interpret and produce his love of the land. He couldn’t stop painting if he tried. The canvas, the paint, called to him.
There had to be a way to mix that particular red. Maybe if he tried adding a little...
With the flash of an idea that just might work, he picked up his palette and mixed. Close. Closer. When he applied brush and paint to canvas, he lost track of time. He lost himself.
Burdens, worries, conflicts fell away. All was peace.
* * *
NADINE WALKED TO the barn with slow steps, the too-large boot hitting the ground with a thunk every time. Funny how much guilt weighed. Tons.
Find out that family’s secrets.
The inside of the barn was empty save for a few horses. Maybe Zach had fooled her and left by a back door. But why would he? He’d agreed to the interview. She hadn’t forced it on him.
Where had he gone?
A faint sound reached her from the back of the building. She followed it to an ancient wooden door standing ajar with sunlight streaming through the gap. She peeked inside.
Zach stood in front of an easel, painting. He’d forgotten about her! Nadine didn’t have a huge ego, but people didn’t tend to forget her. Her looks alone had garnered all kinds of attention in the city. Well, her new, refined looks had.
It had taken a massive makeover to even be considered by a TV station. And finally, one had hired her. She had mattered then, to her bosses and to her audience.
Apparently, she didn’t mean much to Zach. Or perhaps, to be realistic, his painting mattered more.
Why should she be important to him? She was just a girl he’d gone to school with. Not even that. Two years younger than him, she hadn’t shared classes with him. He probably hadn’t even noticed her back then.
He painted with his whole body. Considering he held himself still except for the brush in his hand stroking red paint onto a mountaintop, she wasn’t sure what she meant by that. Understanding came quickly. Zach’s passion for painting was so deeply ingrained, his brush was being wielded by his soul.
Was there anything in Nadine’s life to compare?
Yes. Her writing. When she was involved in a story, she forgot everything else around her. Now, because of her boss, that process had been tainted. Lee had turned it into a distasteful job.
A ray of sunshine poured from a small high window onto Zach’s head like a benediction. Like the hand of God. And here she was, an instrument of either a very unkind god, or the devil, to destroy him.
Hyperbole, Nadine. Yeah, but knowing the little bit she did about the man and his character, this story might very well destroy him. What secrets could there be in his family’s past?
Lee had intimated that there was a huge, ugly, significant secret. Nadine couldn’t imagine that and had told him so.
Oh, yes, Lee had countered, secrets abounded on this ranch, but the townspeople had never gotten the full story. That was her job. The Brandts were, and always had been, respected in Rodeo. They were known throughout the state. Hadn’t Zach’s grandfather run for governor at one point? She had a lot of research ahead of her. And a lot of dirty delving.
Nadine watched Zach while he painted and found it magical.
Even in high school, she’d sensed he was a person of great integrity. As far as she knew, Zach had lived a good, blameless life in his first thirty-one years. Whatever Lee thought had happened in this family must be big, or he wouldn’t be so fixated on her getting the info. Which meant that when it got out, it could very well damage this family.
Nadine had to bring down an honest man.
* * *
ARISING OUT OF a misty internal landscape, Zach became aware of his surroundings...and of the paintbrush in his hand he’d barely realized he’d picked up. That’s how it was with his painting, captivating him in unguarded moments.
His skin prickled. Someone was watching him. He glanced to his right.
Standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed, stood Nadine. He’d forgotten about her, not an easy feat considering her vibrant beauty and strong personality. Or what used to be a strong personality. Something had happened to her in the city. Something had dampened her enthusiasm.
Zach wanted to know what that was.
One rubber-booted foot rested across the other, out of harmony with the deep green dress wrapped across her flat stomach and tied in a discreet bow at the side, that small flare the only spot of decoration on the garment.
The finely tailored dress outlined her figure without showing too much, tasteful while still displaying trim assets. She must lift weights or work out, he guessed, because her biceps looked strong. So did her calves. But then, he’d already felt how fit her legs were when he’d put the boots on her feet.
Inside of those boots, he knew, were pink toenails to nearly match her pink fingernails. A connoisseur of color, he’d already noted that they were two different shades of pink. As though her body were a canvas, Nadine took the time to choose different colors for her feet and hands.
His gaze caressed high cheekbones and a strong jaw. How difficult would her face be to paint? Being easy on the eye didn’t always translate onto the canvas.
The green of the dress did amazing things to her green eyes. Shadows hovered in those eyes. She had been private back in high school, but now she was downright shuttered. Locked up tight.
Nadine had been hiding inside of herself since coming home. How he knew that when he’d barely had contact with her in that time was hard to say, but he observed, constantly, everyone and everything around him. He would love to breach her defenses to learn the woman beneath her sophisticated exterior. With an artist’s sensibilities, he knew her beauty was more than skin-deep, but why did she hide what was inside of her?
What drove her extreme need for privacy?
She watched him steadily but without anger at being abandoned, as far as he could tell.
“How long?” he asked.
She understood him right away, glancing at her watch, a tiny bit of filigreed gold on her left wrist. Could it even be called a watch?
“Forty minutes.”
Forty minutes!
Zach wasn’t prone to blushing, but heat traveled up his chest and into his cheeks for the second time that morning. He hadn’t meant to be rude. Well, not this rude. Nor did he like people watching him while he painted.
The act of painting was a deeply private enterprise for him. He made only the finished product available for public consumption. But he had, in effect, invited her to look for him back here by abandoning her in the yard and expecting her to follow him to the stable.
Then he’d forgotten himself enough to start to paint. What would she write about it?
Funny, the guy seemed to go into a trance while he left me waiting to interview him. Rudeness must be Zachary Brandt’s middle name.
Would Nadine say things like that about him? Maybe. Maybe not. He might think he knew her, but what he knew was