Artist's Dream Read Free

one thing.
    How could one tiny, innocent glance at that woman bring such fear to her? Perhaps she wasn’t as immune to her father’s words of eternal damnation as she thought.
    “I wasn’t attracted to her … I was simply looking at a beautiful person,” she said out loud. She shoved her sunglasses on to avoid seeing the truth reflected back at her from the mirror and drove on in silence, convinced she would be over this by evening.
    But when she got home, she called David. They had not made plans this weekend. She had told him she would be too busy preparing for the upcoming art show, but now she wanted his company. She would invite him over to dinner, and she would let him kiss her and hopefully, she would feel something, anything to make her forget the way her pulse had raced earlier today.
     

Chapter Four
    “I don’t really miss the meat in here,” David said, taking another piece of the lasagna.
    “What’s to miss?”
    “Oh, come on,” David said with a smile. “Don’t you ever just want to plop a nice, juicy steak on the grill?”
    Cassie eyed him coolly over her wineglass, then raised her chin. “I don’t particularly care for dead cows bleeding on my grill,” she said. “I prefer the smell of roasting vegetables.”
    David shook his head but smiled. “I don’t think I could go withŹout meat for too many meals, but once in awhile is fine,” he said.
    Cassie had told herself she would try with David, so she let that comment go unanswered. Instead, she filled both of their wineŹglasses and pretended to enjoy his company.
    “How long have you been this way?” he asked as he swirled the Merlot.
    She raised her eyes slowly. “What way is that?”
     
    “Vegetarian.”
    She shrugged. “Since I was old enough to start cooking for myself.”
    “Why?”
    “My father said I was going through a phase, and it would pass,” she said. “Actually, one of my high school teachers described what a slaughterhouse was like, and that pretty much did it for me.
    “Well, you just don’t think about it.”
    “Well, we should think about it.” She set her wineglass on the table, preparing to launch into a speech. “And not only for the cruŹelty to the animals, but what about all the agricultural land and water that is devoted solely to raising and feeding cattle when we should be growing food for human consumption.”
    “Whoa, now,” David said, raising his hands. “I don’t want to get into an argument with you. We have different opinions on this one, I’m afraid.”
    She leaned back and tried to relax. “Yes, I guess we do. I don’t suppose you want to discuss organic farming?” she asked with a smile.
    “Let’s don’t,” he said. “In fact, I wanted to ask you about your work. You don’t know how many times I’ve been to Potter’s and have never thought to ask about the squirrel they have sitting on the counter. Then today, there was this woman asking who had done it, and I was surprised to hear your name. You said you did wood sculptures, and I guess I had no idea what you really did.”
    “I gave Carl that squirrel four years ago,” she said. “I generally do larger pieces now.”
    She didn’t want to talk about her work. She didn’t want to share this with him, she realized. He would not understand how each piece became so very personal to her, even the small trinkets, as Kim called them.
    “How is it that you’ve lived here six years and we’ve just now met?” he asked.
    Just lucky, I guess. But she stifled her grin and answered tactfully.
     
    “I doubt we have any of the same friends.” They had literally run into each other at the grocery store, him knocking her flat on her backside as he had hurried into her aisle. His way of apology was to offer her lunch. Cassie was too embarrassed to decline.
    “You hang out with artists, I guess?”
    She shrugged. “I’m an artist. I do know some of the local farmŹers, though.” She raised her eyebrows and forced a grin.