The crates loomed like a bad omen. How could inert objects cause such a crazy flutter in his stomach? It felt like thousands wings were hitting the inside of his gut. Drew rubbed at the annoying throb at the back of his neck. Packed inside the crates were paintings by the exhibiting artist, Skye Taylor, that name invoked a foreboding gloom around his heart.
Skye was in town, which meant Drew would have to see him. How could he ignore the exhibiting artist when he had designed the gallery? The owner expected him to attend opening night.
Before he could think of any more reasons to get the hell out of town, the bell chimed announcing a customer. Drew jerked his head around and his heart skipped a two-step.
Too late.
Skye Taylor sauntered through the gallery door. Drew's lungs filled with an unexpected rush of air leaving him breathless. Breathless, as the ground shifted below his feet.
"I didn't expect to see you here." Skye remarked. "What a nice surprise."
Drew glanced at the half-finished counter wishing he had let his crew do the last minute touch-ups, but he missed working with his hands. Too much of his time was spent behind a computer.
"Ah, I don't usually get my hands dirty but..."
"You always did love making things." Skye's smile widened into a dazzling grin.
A bittersweet ache rushed through Drew at the sight of that familiar smile. He inwardly groaned, gripping the edge of the counter, thankful it created a barrier between them. Any feelings for Skye should have been dead and buried. Buried miles underground along with Drew's past.
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