Brawler's Weakness by Gina Azzi

Author:Gina Azzi [Azzi, Gina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781954470231
Publisher: Three Cities Publishing LLC

Fourteen

Axel

If I didn’t have the pleasure of hearing Maisy’s uninhibited, genuine laughter, I would have bolted at the first sign of Benoit in the poofy white shirt. He looked like a wannabe pirate or a man on an old-fashioned romance book my mother used to litter the end tables with.

I had no clue what the hell Francois was talking about with longing and nostalgia. For a long, agonizing moment, all I felt was panic and acute embarrassment.

But Maisy Stratford laughed, and everything changed. She allowed herself to get swept up in the moment, in the enthusiasm of Pam, in the spectacle of Benoit’s sword brandishing.

And I reveled in her.

There aren’t many women who could get me to stay in this class and paint a male model in a ridiculous shirt with an even sillier sword, but, it turns out, Maisy is one of them. I settle in for the long haul, soothed by her laughter, aware of every glance and grin she tosses my way.

Focusing on Francois’s guidance, I give this whole portrait painting a real try. I outline Benoit’s frame, adding more detail to his facial expression and the confidence he holds in his shoulders. However, while Pam spends most of the class focused on Benoit’s pants, I skip that part of his body altogether.

I don’t chance a glance, except to confirm that dude must be in pain. Britches ain’t no joke and his are…painfully tight.

“Wonderful, Mr. Daire.” Francois nods over my shoulder as he takes in my portrait. “You have a natural eye.”

“Doesn’t he?” Maisy pipes up beside me.

I turn to give her a look, my expression softening as I take in her smile. It’s breathtaking and playful and makes my body relax. Being with her relaxes me in ways I haven’t felt in years.

“Well, he is here with you, so yes,” Francois agrees. A smooth talker, this one.

Maisy giggles and I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

We finish the class and relief mixed with a strange sense of regret washes through me. I don’t want tonight to end. Maisy and I drank our wine and picked at the charcuterie board, and I want more. Conversation and long side looks and playful smirks.

“Want to hit the diner?” I ask, cleaning my last brush.

“I’d love to.”

“Make sure you come back next week,” Pam whispers, sidling up next to Maisy’s canvas. “It’s a nude lesson!” She claps her hands together.

Maisy’s cheeks burn and her eyes dance. “Sounds riveting.”

“It is,” Pam agrees. “Hope to see you.”

“Good to meet you, Pam,” Maisy offers, noncommittally.

“You too, darling.” She waves before exiting, making better time on her cane than she ought to.

“She’s a hoot,” Maisy comments.

“She’s the type of grandmother grandkids wish for.”

“Ah, my aspiration in life,” Maisy laughs.

I tip my head. “You aspire to be a grandmother?”

“You know how some people peak in high school? Their glory years are their teens?”

I nod, knowing exactly what she means. I think of some of the guys I played hockey with back in high school. They’re all good guys, some have families, some don’t.

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