Chapter Four

REMINGTON'S POV

I circled the room and sipped my glass of wine, keeping an eye on Sean as he studied a large sculpture about ten feet away from me. I surveyed the stark white walls and took another gulp of white wine, needing it for the butterfly feeling in my stomach. I was too old to be feeling this way, but I couldn't seem to help it. And over a man I'd barely met the day before? It was ludicrous.

Sean and I had arrived at the gallery just before eight and the exhibition was well underway. It was one of these new pop-up style galleries, and they were exhibiting a group collection by new local artists.

I had a lot of clients that coveted exclusive pieces, the old school reliable. My passion was for vibrant new pieces -- undiscovered artists, or those tipped to be the next big thing. Some of my big-money clients loved these sorts of pieces too, so being here wasn't a bad idea. Maybe I'd find something that would be perfect for one of my clients. I'd know it as soon as I saw it. It would be the one that spoke to me and drew me into its canvas.

"Is he here?" Sean sipped his orange juice and scanned the busy room.

"No, I don't think so. He's probably gone home. It's nearly finished now." There was a distinct gnawing pain in the pit of my stomach. I'd wanted Matthew to be here, to see him again and find out if this really was just my imagination or whether there was something there.

"I'm going to circle the room. You go that way, and we'll meet back at the other side," Sean said.

"But you don't even know what he looks like."

Sean grinned and leaned close to me. "I'll keep an eye out for a dashingly good-looking man, who is also far too young for either of us."

I rolled my eyes and watched my silly friend saunter off in the opposite direction. The bright downlights flooded the walls and created a warmth in the air. We'd been there for at least twenty minutes, and at first, I had almost been relieved that there had been no sign of Matthew. But the gallery was closing at nine, and as the minutes ticked by, I grew a little sad. It would have been nice to see him, even just to talk about his art. I'd probably imagined the entire chemistry thing, and it was nothing but wishful thinking on my part.

I'd still like to get to know him though. To listen to him chat about art and what he liked, what inspired him and his work. To listen to him explain how he created his pieces, capturing those intense moments of nature, pulsing from the painting and making me feel things.

I shook my head, physically trying to free my thoughts. A large red and black abstract piece caught my attention and I paused before it. The title card read, "Oil on canvas. Destruction." I stared at the ominous painting and grimaced. No, that certainly wasn't the one.

After passing another few paintings, I stopped and looked back across the room over to the far wall, searching for Sean. I caught sight of him for a second before he disappeared in the crowd. Then another glimpse, only this time it wasn't my friend. I started walking in the direction of the familiar face, and then, as if by magic, the crowd cleared, revealing a stunning painting. A seascape of dazzling gold and sharp blue, tangled in textured impasto, rendering it three-dimensional and utterly glorious.

"That's it," I whispered to myself, forgetting all about the familiar face and now transfixed by the beauty of the painting. "That's the one."

"I don't know, it seems a bit... busy." The voice was familiar and sent heat running through me just like the first time we had met.

Matthew stood beside me, his hands stuffed in his jeans, a soft cotton shirt hanging loosely, and he sort of glowed under the bright spotlights of the gallery.

"You made it," he said, those dimples catching me off guard.

"I did. I came with a friend of mine."

"Did you see anything you like?"

I wanted to answer his question honestly; the truth being that I was staring at the nicest thing in the room. “Hmm, maybe.”

He smirked and turned back to face the large painting. "You like that one then?" he asked, nodding at the seascape I had been staring at.

"Yes. Very much. And I have a client that has been looking for something just like it."

Matthew chewed his lip and tilted his head to one side. "I'm not sure I like it. It looks like an amateur painted it."

There was a small tear in the corner of Matthew’s shirt, the edges frayed as if worn or perhaps caught on something. I stared, mesmerized by the simplicity of the moment and the significance of that frayed edge. "Well, art is a matter of personal taste. I think this painting is fantastic," I murmured.

"Yeah, maybe you're right. I'm not really qualified to comment. After all, you're the expert. But in fairness, it looks like the artist is trying a little too hard."

He was teasing me, and I couldn't help but laugh. "It's one of yours, isn't it?"

The dazzling smile across his face lit my senses on fire. God, I'd do anything for someone to look at me like that again.

"It is. I painted it on a winter morning right on the beach. I love plein air painting. I nearly got blown away, but I persevered because I wanted to capture the sense of the wind and the swell of the ocean. It was freezing though. I even added some sand into the paint to get the texture. See?"

I stepped closer, Matthew moving in sync with me.

"Touch it."

Lifting my hand, I hesitated before trailing my fingers along the rough, grainy texture on the canvas. Matthew's fingers danced along the surface, closing in on mine and I held my breath, transfixed by the moment.

"Remington."

I jumped at the voice calling my name and swung around to see a rather bemused Sean grinning at me.

"Let me guess, you must be Matthew?" Sean smiled at him, and I groaned inwardly as Matthew's eyes widened at being recognised. "Sorry to interrupt but the parking metre is about to run out. I'm going to go and wait in the car. I'll see you there?"

I nodded and bit my lip, holding back the urge to go with him. I was out of my depth. What was I even doing? Matthew was far too young for me and there was no sense to this. None.

"Okay, I won't be long," I said to Sean, before turning back to Matthew. My pulse was racing, and I knew I was only fooling myself. This boy was radiating with light, and I wanted to soak it in, bathe in the warm glow. Clearly, I was losing my mind.

"You don't have to buy it." Matthew sounded unsure all of a sudden, and I noted the way his hair tipped forward onto his forehead as he looked down, falling like folds of golden silk under the spotlights.

"I want to. It's a beautiful painting. I can't understand how you haven’t been snapped up by the large galleries by now."

The twinkle in his eye had me biting my lip again as I struggled to stop myself from reacting to his cheeky grin.

"Stop, don't embarrass me. But thank you. Hopefully one of the galleries will like my stuff."

"Maybe I can help you with that? Make some introductions. If you wanted me to?" God, I wanted him to say yes. Anything to have a reason to see him again.

"Really? You'd do that? Thank you, I'd... I don't know what to say. I'd really appreciate it. That would be great, Remi."

Hearing him say my name, shortened like only he did, caused my spine to tingle as my mind imagined him saying it louder and breathless. My neck flushed with heat at my corrupt thoughts, and I swallowed hard. Shit, what is wrong with me tonight?

"That's no problem at all. What's the use of my having all these art contacts if I can't help a new artist out?"

"I don't want to seem like I'm taking advantage of you. Thanks for buying my painting by the way. I'll be able to buy groceries for at least another month now"

"Are you always so witty and self-deprecating?"

"Always. I'm known for three things: my wittiness, my creativity and… actually, I better not tell you the other thing I'm renowned for." A devilish smile crossed his lips, and I felt myself blush under his gaze. There was no mistaking it now. Matthew was flirting with me.

Sean's words rang in my head, reminding me that I should give this a chance. I wanted to get to know this young man, even if it seemed like the craziest thing I would ever do. A little voice in my head told me to stop overthinking it. It didn't need to be anything more than me helping Matthew with his career. Unless he wanted it to be more...

"What are you doing tomorrow?" My own words caught me by surprise.

"Nothing, I've no plans other than painting. Why?"

I swallowed again, resisting the temptation to back out. No, I was doing this. "I'm spending the day shopping for some new pieces for a client. Would you like to join me? I could introduce you to a few of the store owners."

Matthew's face spread into a delicious smile that set my heart racing. "That sounds great. And fun. I'd love to."

He looked at me, eyes heavy and intense. Shit. I was far too attracted to him, and I knew damn well that he was aware of it. “Great. Well, I'm starting at Archer's Gallery at eleven a.m. Will I meet you there?”

"That suits me. I'll see you then."

I was about to walk away when Matthew reached out and touched the side of my arm briefly, igniting a spark of electricity between us.

"Thanks again, Remi. For everything. I'm looking forward to tomorrow." His voice was a murmur and all I could do was smile in response, battling the urge to grab him right there, in the middle of the crowded gallery, and kiss him. I couldn't be sure I wouldn't do it if I stayed a moment longer.

"I better go. My friend is--"

"Yeah. No problem. See you tomorrow."

"Bye." I turned and exhaled slowly, making my way to the sales assistant so I could purchase the painting. Only now I wanted to keep it for myself. I waited patiently, refusing to look back at Matthew. I was positive if I did, he'd be watching me.

I was in big trouble.

Huge.

***

Impasto - a technique used in painting, where paint is laid on an area of the surface in very thick layers, usually thick enough that the brush or painting-knife strokes are visible.

Plein air painting - the act of painting outdoors