Hector (Season One: The Ninth Inning #3) (9 page)

“Let me know the time and place and I’ll be there.” I smile, excited to see her work.

WHAT DO YOU wear when your aunt is going to hang a picture? Especially when you don’t want her to hang it for the world to see and I’m a nervous wreck for what everyone will think. I don’t want Hector there. I know he saw it on the phone, and I’m still mad about that. Aunt Minnie told me she had shown some dealers and it took everything I had
not
to yell at her. I know she means well and is doing what she thinks is best for me. If I want to make this my career, then I need to go to this no matter how much it kills my nerves.

I flop back on my bed and cover my face with my hands. What has happened to my life? I had been working and painting and was perfectly content with it. Then Mr. Baseball comes strolling in with his sexy eyes and smile, not to mention his hot as hell body.

I woke up this morning wishing Hector was in bed with me. I even checked my phone to see if he had texted throughout the night. I’ve become one of
those
girls. The one who pines for her boyfriend. I groan out from the pain in my head. Hector isn’t my boyfriend.

“We’re just friends,” I tell the empty apartment. “This isn’t normal.”

People don’t like people this fast. It only happens in movies and cheesy love novels. This is real life. This is my life. I give up on trying to be a rational person. I stop arguing with myself and head into the shower. Maybe a cold shower will freeze the side of my brain that’s acting all crazy.

When I step out, I lotion myself up and hope my skin feels as smooth as I think. What would Hector’s hands feel like on me? Why am I thinking about this? Stop it, Zoey. I lean against the bathroom counter and try not to think of Naked Hector and think about my friend Hector.

I blow-dry my hair, which I normally I don’t do, but I want something different tonight. When I look in the mirror, I ditch my normal black eyeliner for purple. It makes my eyes brighter. I paint my lips with a softer red. I look like me, but only with less makeup. Will Hector like me like this? Oh, crap on a cracker; if I don’t stop this now, I’m going to be painting hearts and flowers on my next canvas.

I stroll to my closet and stare at my clothes. I see nothing to wear when I look at the overstuffed closet. I end up picking out a tight black skirt. It stops about mid-thigh. I grab the purple cap sleeve that will match my eyeliner. I pick out a pair of purple flats, but instantly drop them. Guys like girls in heels, right? Hector would like it more if I did, I bet.

“Damn it,” I sigh in frustration. “Stop it, Zoey; he is your friend.”

No matter what I said out loud, I’m currently on my knees searching for a pair of purple heels. I know I have a something that will work. I shout with glee when I find them, and I put them on.

I check myself out in every possible angle of the full-length mirror. I look okay. My ass seems a little larger than normal, but I blame that on Hector and the burgers he keeps buying me.

“He’ll like it,” I speak to myself in the mirror because that’s what a crazy person does when she’s all alone in her apartment.

I can do this. It’s only Hector and my aunts. It’s going to be simple, short, and sweet.

“YOU’VE GOT TO be kidding me,” I hiss under my breath as I walk into Aunt Minnie’s gallery, which is named The Garden of Arts. I feel my blood boil a bit. Aunt Minnie lied to me. I search the room for her, but it’s hard to see over the sea of people walking around. There are even servers carrying trays of champagne and wine. I find my aunts mingling with a small crowd of people, and I push through to get to them.

“Zoey.” Aunt Minnie holds up her hand in surrender. “It’s out of love.”

I can’t even say anything because I’m mad, nervous, and even more scared. All these people are going to be staring at my charcoal.

“We love you.” Aunt Lanny smiles and hugs me tightly.

I close my eyes and remain quiet. When she releases me, they begin to introduce me to the crowd gathering around them. I nod and I’m polite, but I silently pray Hector will show up soon and help distract me. He seems to be good at that lately.

As if an angel answers my wish, a glass of bubbly champagne appears out of thin air and into my hands.

“So much for just the four of us,” Hector whispers as he leans in close to my ear.

There’s the tingling again. I open my mouth to thank him for being here, but my aunts sweep him away quickly. I step back and watch him interact with them. His bright smile and gleaming eyes are all I can stare at as I listen to him laugh at their jokes and stories, nodding when they tell him something serious.

Can he be anymore perfect? Does it matter he’s a baseball player? He travels a lot, but he’s always talking to me on the phone and he always comes back. His friends seem to love him, and he cares about me. Not too many men I’ve met in my life would drag a drunk girl home and make sure she’s okay without taking advantage of her.

“May I have everyone’s attention?” The crowd turns to see Aunt Minnie’s gallery director on the small stage. I don’t think you can really call it a stage. It’s more like a small platform they use when they do the unveiling.

Oh, I’m going to be sick.
I know what’s about to happen. I toss back the glass in one shot and close my eyes. I don’t think there’s any air in the room because I can’t catch my breath. I feel someone tugging me close and I instantly cuddle into Hector’s side. I don’t even need to open my eyes to know it’s him. I know his touch. Even though I’ve only felt him a few times, I have it memorized.

“It’s going to be the greatest moment of your life,” Hector whispers for me to hear.

“The Garden of Arts will be showcasing a debut artist, Zoey Reyes.” With the announcement of my name, the lights dim and a large bright spotlight shines on my charcoal. I don’t need to open my eyes to see it happening. I’ve seen plenty of gallery openings.

I hear the collective gasp throughout the room. Oh God, they hate it. I know they’re all thinking it’s the drawing of a two year old. I keep my eyes closed, so I don’t have to see their disgusted faces. I can see the headlines in the morning paper: Memphis’ Own Zoey Reyes: Sucky Artist of the Year.

“Open your eyes,” Hector softly orders and squeezes my hip.

I shake my head.

“Open them,” he hisses more firmly.

I peek through one and the entire crowd is circled around the charcoal. I stand up straighter; I see their excited faces and wide-eyed amazement as they look at the canvas.

They like it.

They like my charcoal.

Holy crap on a cracker.

I look up at Hector and he’s smiling down at me. He’s not even looking at the piece. His eyes are only for me. I lift up on my toes and I want to kiss him. His eyes widen slightly, knowing what’s about to come.

“I told you.” Aunt Minnie comes up, interrupting our moment. “Do you know how much I love to say those three words to you?” She laughs.

“People are going to hate to find out it’s sold,” Aunt Lanny adds.

“Sold?
Sold
?” I choke on the words a bit. “You just unveiled it. How the heck did it sell?”

“Private buyer. I showed him, and he loved it instantly,” Aunt Minnie explains.

“What if I don’t want to sell it?” I whine.

“You told me it was crap. I tend to sell crap very well.” Aunt Minnie winks.

“How much did it go for?” Hector asks.

“Well, that kind of crap,” Aunt Minnie thumbs over her shoulder, “goes for five thousand dollars.”

“Wha...what?” My knees give way and Hector’s hard arms hold me steady. “Someone bought my charcoal for five thousand dollars?”

“Yes. Now, we have to mingle.” Aunt Minnie winks at Hector and hugs me, as does Aunt Lanny.

“Hey, I think it’s time to get some fresh air.” Hector tugs on my hand and I nod as we walk out of the gallery.

He leads me all the way to his Jeep and I walk out of his grasp. I lay my hands flat on the hood and take several deep breaths. Hector comes up behind me and rubs my back. He doesn’t say anything.

“Someone bought my charcoal,” I finally speak.

“I heard.”

“You know what that means?” I stand up and Hector’s hand lands lower than the small of my back, but I can’t think of anything but the painting.

“You can finally call yourself an artist,” he grins.

“Oh my God, yes. Hector, that’s exactly what it means. But what if it’s the only one I ever sell? What if I’m like one of those 80’s hair bands who only have one hit and then you never hear anything from them ever again? Crap, am I a one-hit wonder?” I begin to panic again.

Hector pulls me closer to him and wraps his large arms around me. “No, you aren’t. You’ll sell many, many more, I’m sure of it. You’re a fantastic artist, Zoey. People will buy your work in a heartbeat.”

I don’t think about what I’m about to do next. I let my body and hormones do it for me. I lift up and hug Hector, pressing our bodies together. “Thank you, Hector. I don’t know what else to say or do, but thank you. I was a wreck this evening and then I saw you…” I instantly still. I can’t tell him everything. I’m sure he already thinks I’m a basket case because of my reaction inside the gallery.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad I could be here for this with you.”

“You’re too kind to me.” I release his neck and lean back, but I don’t leave the circle of his arms this time. “You really are. Is there anything I can do for you? I feel like I owe you.”

“Owe me for what? Being a good friend? I don’t think so.” Hector stares at me for a moment before he asks, “What we should be talking about is what you want to do to celebrate your night?”

I stare at him; his eyes are drinking me in. I can feel the pull between us. It’s there and I’m not imagining it. Did I feel it before tonight? Or was I ignoring it? I’m not going to ignore it this time. I’m twenty-six and there’s a nice guy in front of me who I think likes me as much as I like him.

“I’m going to be frank with you, even though I usually am. I know we’re supposed to have dinner with my aunts, but I want to have dinner with you. Alone. Is that okay?” I begin to lose my nerve, and I hope I’m doing a good job at not showing it.

His smile could light up the night sky. “It’s your night, Zoey, I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Let’s go to the diner and eat until the carbs make us sick,” I giggle like a teenager.

“Do you need to go back inside first for anything?”

Oh, I need to tell my aunts. “Give me one minute.”

I sprint back into the gallery and find my aunts. Before I can even say a single thing, Aunt Lanny speaks first.

“Have a good night with Hector, dear.” She hugs me, as does Aunt Minnie. I don’t want to know how they knew what I was going to say, but I leave them standing there and head back to Hector.

Yep, I’m turning into
that girl
: the one with the butterflies in her stomach and the sweaty palms when she looks at a guy. My normal cool, confident self, which I rarely am, is shucked out of the window when I see Hector leaning against the Jeep. I even forgot that I drove myself here tonight.

Right now, I don’t care.

“I’m ready when you are.” I smile, approaching him. He opens the door for me, and I gracefully hop into the Jeep, trying not to flash him.

I’m thankful we have a short drive because I can’t stop fidgeting. I want to blurt out all my feelings, but at the same time, I don’t want to say anything. Due to my rambling internal thoughts, we make it to the diner and sit in a booth before I can even really blink my eyes.

“How does it feel to be able to call yourself an artist?” Hector finally speaks.

“Scary. Awesome. Nerve wracking. Elated. Everything in between.” I shake my head and try to process everything that’s pulsing through me.

Hector chuckles. “Well, congratulations on your achievement. It’ll feel more awesome once it sinks in.”

“You know, I’m wondering who bought it. My head is spinning, thinking of where someone would put it in their house. Maybe their office? It seems strange to have my work in someone else’s possession.”

“If you still had it, what room would you pick to put it in? You know, assuming you don’t still think it’s ‘crap on a cracker.’”