The Genius and the Muse by Elizabeth Hunter Read Free Book Online Page A

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    “Not as pretty as O’Connor, am I?”
    “Huh?” she asked, startled from her careful study of his square jawline. ”What? Pretty? No, you’re sort of… brutish-looking, aren’t you?”
    He let out a biting laugh and wiped his face with a red shop rag. She realized, as she walked closer to him, that though he wasn’t much taller than her own five feet-four inches, his sheer physical presence and crackling energy dwarfed her. He walked over to a linoleum covered table with three mismatched chairs. Then he pulled out a Marlboro Red and lit it, finally sitting and gesturing to the chair across from him.
    “You want a beer?”
    Kate curled her lip. “It’s ten o’clock in the morning.”
    “Well, I’ve been working here for the last two days straight, so I don’t really give a flying fuck what time it is.” He puffed out a stream of smoke. “Do you want a beer or not?”
    Her mind flashed to a dark room filled with scattered beer bottles and smoke. She shoved the memory back and shrugged. “Sure, I guess.”
    “Great. Get me one, too. They’re on the bottom shelf of the fridge over there.” He nodded toward a corner of the warehouse where there was a sink, a work table with a steaming crock-pot, and a toaster oven. Next to the sink sat an old avocado-green refrigerator missing a handle.
    Kate rolled her eyes, but walked over to the fridge, prying it open to find a treasure trove of beer. Imported. Artisan. She spotted a local brewery that her friends had raved about. There were also random bottles of hot sauce, but not much else. She grabbed two longnecks and walked back toward the table. The sculptor opened one bottle on the edge of the table and handed it to her before opening his own. She hid a smile at the surprisingly gallant gesture.
    “Wait… you’re twenty-one, right?” He squinted. “Hell, I don’t actually care. Drink up. Here’s to messed up pasts and old friends.” He raised his bottle and took a long drink, gulping down half of the beer in one draw.
    “I’m twenty-four. And thanks for the beer. You’ve got some good stuff in there.”
    “Yeah, well that’s the best thing about selling shit, isn’t it? I can afford to buy the good beer now. Never drink another Tecate, no matter what my uncle says about abandoning my heritage.” He finished one cigarette and immediately lit another.
    Her eyes roamed the cluttered warehouse, searching for something to break the awkward silence. They landed on the worn equipment he’d been using in his work.
    “That’s a nice welder. It’s a Miller, right?” She nodded toward the blue welding unit he had been using.
    He paused for a moment, his eyes lit in slight amusement. “Yeah, it is. I thought Dee said you were a photographer. Do you work with metal, too? How do you keep from falling over with all the gear on?”
    Kate smiled. “That’d be a sight, huh? No, my dad—before he got really successful—he would take me out to job sites. He was a contractor. There was this one guy my dad worked with a really long time. He was a welder. He had this truck and he would fix any broken equipment, stuff like that.”
    The sculptor watched her in amusement, and a slightly indulgent look settled on his face.
    “I remember Miller because that’s the kind of welder he had. It was mounted on the side of the truck and I could read the name. I called him Mr. Miller for years. My dad eventually told me his name was Mr. West. I was kind of disappointed.”
    A wry smile twisted his lips as he shook his head.
    “What does he do now?”
    “Mr. Miller?”
    He barked out a laugh. ”No, your dad. You said, ‘before he got successful.’ What does he do now?”
    “Oh, he’s still a contractor. He just has a lot of different jobs now. He builds all over Orange County.” She shrugged. “I don’t think he ever goes to job sites anymore; he has foremen for that.”
    He studied her for a few moments, finishing his beer. “Well, good for