Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Man, I loved his annoyed rasp.
“Wash, baby, let’s enjoy the day.” My focus shifted from his gaze to the watercolor-like spread of morning light over Audubon, with soft golds blending into mossy greens. “See? Such tranquil scenery.”
Washington looped an arm around my waist as we walked.
After we crossed the street, I said, “Hey, meet me around two. If you don’t care that I’m still in yesterday’s outfit, let’s create something with the beginner class.”
“Okay.” Washington threw the duffel into the cargo area of the Land Rover. “I’ll get your car out of the pound. If it’s not too expensive. You need a toothbrush? I don’t mind you wearing the same clothes, but …”
“Wash-ing-ton! Just because I don’t have a bunch of extra clothing in my car.” I shook my head, remembering I’d left Daewoo behind bars. “Anyway, I have an extra toothbrush and floss in my purse. Now stop.”
The heat hit me the second I stepped near the furnace, a rush of air heavy with fire and molten metal. I breathed in deep. Man, I loved that smell. With my hair pulled up and my apron tied tight, I leaned in, shaping the molten glass as it swirled and glowed on my punty rod.
Okay, Francisco, I feel you even if you died like seventy years ago. This design, although created in the 1930s, was giving ancient Rome. I had spent almost an hour coaxing the vase into the elegant artwork of someone else, not mine. But it still seemed older.
At a movement on the studio’s farthest side, I glanced up from behind the face shield.
Oh no. My eyes landed on Washington. He’d changed into something more laid-back than his usual slacks. Khaki sweats and a matching sweatshirt softly molded to his muscles.
“You’re early,” I deadpanned. Lawd, please don’t let him recognize this vase. Wait. I was tripping. He was a man. He probably thought it was good enough to hold a dozen roses or beer. This Philippe design, unlike the others, came with a handle, giving it a mug-like quality. “Touch nothing.”
He smirked. “I don’t touch. I observe. And provide moral support.”
His moral support felt more like a death wish as I watched him grin at me and almost risked a third-degree burn. For that face, I might stare at him until I smelled the dank scent of barbecued flesh. My BBQ’d flesh.
Finished, I placed my vase in the annealing kiln.
He put down a shopping bag in his hands and clapped. “Good job. Very artsy. And vase-y.”
washington
. . .
Iwalked through the cement structure, watching Madison. Man, she’d gotten that fire back. She looked right where she needed to be, seated at her bench.
As she worked the glass, which looked more like a melted beer bottle of hot lava, into a shape, I watched in awe. I’d arrived at Glass & Sass, eager to speak with Omari and gauge his intentions. He didn’t own this place, which told me dude didn’t have roots. There was no sign of him as I stepped forward with a bag of clothing I’d purchased for Madison. It also included the keys to her rattrap that I’d dropped off at her home.
“Good job. Very artsy. And vase-y.” I replied, glancing at the piece.
“Thanks.” She smirked, turning around.
I helped her out of the heat-resistant apron. I knew that because I needed to be sure my bébé was safe when she started this dangerous art.
She removed the face shield and then kissed me. I wrapped her in my arms. “Good morning again, mon chère.”
“Again?” A familiar male voice interrupted from behind Madison.
This was the second time today someone had caught me off guard. But I’d be damned if it ended like it did at Audubon Park.
Omari stepped toward my wife, arms open for a hug.
“Good morning,” Madison said.
I moved around her, hand out.
The man tilted his head. “Ah, you shake hands now, huh?”
Bruh. Please. I tightened my hand around his, my other hand going firm to his shoulder. A pat. A threat. “How you be?”
Madison stared at me with that you-know-good-and-well smirk.
Since we all knew I didn’t give a damn, Omari finished the platitude, then shook her hand. Damn, I wanted him to cross the line. “Came by to check on Madison,” I said.
Translation: You do nothing but breathe the same air as her. Fine by me.
“The last one’s finished,” Madison mumbled.
“Last one of what?” I raised a brow. “Last I checked, all your creations were like Forrest Gump’s box of chocolates. All different.”
“Well, I’ve created a set, Wash.” She huffed. “Now, c’mon. The beginner class is in the other studio. I’m not feeling the teacher’s style, but she’s never late.”
Avoiding confrontation noted. We moved through the cement hall, hand in hand. The place was heavy on man buns, two dudes. The rest were toddlers who’d stolen goggles from NASA, official business. Along with ambitious mémères.