The Art of Love Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Bonus Book

  Chapter 1: Finding The Right One

  Chapter 2: Creating Something New

  Chapter 3: Revealing the Mural

  Chapter 4: Picture Perfect Destruction

  Chapter 5: Creating Families That Bond

  Chapter 6: Completing A Masterpiece

  Publisher’s Notes

  CRISTINA GRENIER PRESENTS

  The Art of Love

  Marie Parker

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  Chapter 1: Finding The Right One

  The sun rises just as the crispness of the morning blows through Brandon Fairchild’s golden strands. His pecs nearly pop through his shirt as he adjusts his hat. The cattle mull around as they wait to be herded into the milking stations. His gloved hands grip the reins as Ginger stirs underneath him. She’s ready to get on with the morning chores.

  “Easy girl,” he whispers to his mare. He believes a man should have a hand in everything that happens on his own land; no matter how much he’s worth. With a slight flick of her reins, they trot down to the pig pen. Brandon runs down his mental checklist making sure the trough is full, the waterer is at the proper levels, and the gate is still intact. When all is well, he walks Ginger to the stables. He leads her into the stall and checks on the other horses while he’s inside.

  As Brandon walks back to the main house, he looks around his land with a sigh of satisfaction. The dirt under his boots is a welcome feeling compared to carpet under wingtips. Thoughts of client meetings and trips to multiple building sites leave him less than enthusiastic about the day ahead of him. He grumbles at his Bentley parked outside of his garage wondering why it was so inappropriate for him to ride Ginger to work. The trip isn’t too far but riding her does nothing except ruin his good suits. Logan, his assistant and protégé, is waiting at the back door for him to come inside.

  Just as Brandon gets within earshot, he starts rambling off, “I have your suit pressed and ready for you. You have a ten o’clock with Mrs. Dubois and her boyfriend. Don’t confuse him with Mr. Dubois. The contract is for a small colonial style house not too far from her family home.”

  “You know how much I hate those messy situations. Call Laney and tell her to take that meeting. Just say I got called in to another job. I can’t very well lie to Mr. Dubois, especially when we see each other around at the gun range.”

  “Okay, I’ll take care of that,” Logan makes a note as they step inside the mud room, “And the new painter, Darren is here, and he’s gotten started on the mural for BJ. He said that he needs more nails to apply some piece of art or something. I don’t know.”

  “What? There shouldn’t be any holes in the walls for a mural!” Brandon leaves Logan standing there amidst a pile of dirty boots and clothes. He heads straight to the addition of the house he recently had finished to see what this particular artist was up to. When he enters the space, all Brandon can see are thousands of tiny porcelain tiles scattered about the room. On the wall are thin pieces of wood framing random shapes with one area half way complete.

  “What is this?” Brandon questions the man who’s extremely focused on the work in front of him.

  “This is what you asked for Mr. Fairchild,” he replies baffled, “I am putting up a wonderfully playful mosaic with shapes and brilliant colors-”

  “Stop, stop, stop, stop… I didn’t ask you to put up a mosaic. I said a mural,” Brandon’s face takes on a shade of red the artist has never seen in his palette, “A mural! This room is for my nephew, my six year old nephew! Is that not what I told you?”

  “Please, I can take it down. I misunderstood what you were asking for. I can fix it,” Darren tries to appease Brandon.

  “You will not fix it. You will touch nothing else in here! Your incompetency shall not be rewarded! GET OUT!” Brandon howls. Darren could swear he feels the walls shaking as he grabs his tools and darts out of the room.

  Logan chuckles at the artist running out of the house and immediately heads toward the bedroom. He sees the mess of tiles and mortar all over with an incomplete mosaic portrait on the walls. He knows that talking to Brandon in one of his moods is job-threatening, but the day must move forward.

  “So another artist bites the dust,” Logan mumbles as he finds Brandon in his bedroom prepping to shower. He was once shy in front of the assistant but Logan let him know that brooding blonde billionaire cowboys just don’t do it for him. His relationship is strictly professional as he takes a seat in Brandon’s massive walk-in closet.

  “Did you see what he did in there?” Brandon shouts still in a heightened state of anger.

  “Yes I did. Maybe you should have given him a chance to finish or fix it,” Logan counters.

  “Yes and maybe I’ll let the hedge trimmer give me my next haircut!”

  “No need to be snappy. It was just a suggestion,” Logan admits.

  “I know but it was a stupid one. An artist who can’t tell the difference between a painted mural and an applied mosaic isn’t one I want to work with. You know how much Brody and his son have been through these last few months and I want things to be perfect for when they get here. I don’t have time for misunderstandings. Get me another artist out here by tomorrow, or so be it I’ll have you do the wall!”

  “Ha!” Logan can’t help but scoff, “You’ll have me do it and end up with stick figures and a yellow sun at the top corner.”

  They both laugh as Logan leaves him to get ready for the day. Brandon’s anger subsides as he wonders who will be brought in to finish the job. Logan is wondering the same thing as he hops on the phone.

  “Gloria, my Gloria. How are you this morning?”

  “Darren got fired didn’t he?” the woman on the phone questions.

  “Well, yes but it was his own fault he pissed off the beast. Mr. Fairchild asked for a mural and not a mosaic. Darren tried to do both and that didn’t go over so well,” Logan tells her.

  “I don’t know any other actual artists in the area who aren’t under contract who he hasn’t fired over the last month. I mean,” she sighs heavily, “I use these artists for the events I plan and design and have never had any issues. I just don’t understand what he’s looking for,” Gloria confesses.

  “Well maybe that’s it. Maybe you’re overthinking this and going for artists who expect their work to be displayed in a museum, he truly needs someone to appease the eyes of a toddler.”

  “I think you’re right, Logan. I’ve been thinking too much like an adult. I think I may have somebody. And it’s somebody he’s already familiar with. I’ll send her your way tomorrow morning. Will that work?”

  “Yes, tomorrow morning works and for both our sake,” Logan warns, “This person had better be the last!”

  The following morning, just as Brandon is coming in from his morning chores, there’s a Prius parked near his garage. He peers inside the vehicle but nothing shows itself to be extraordinary.

  “Whose car is that out there?” he calls out shaking his boots off sending bits of dirt scattering across the floor.

  “That car belongs to the new artist commissioned to finish the room,” Logan calls back from the kitchen. He takes a cup of coffee to him as Brandon peels off his drenched shirt. He’s sweaty and stinks of manure. Logan advises, “You may want to shower before you go see this one, Brandon.”

  Brandon huffs at the idea and proceeds to see the new artist anyway. The view before him is one he isn’t expecting. The denim blue overalls do nothing to hide the curvature of her frame as she shifts back and forth with a mallet and scraper in ha
nd, removing the mosaic tile from the wall. He can see beyond the overall straps to a white crop top t-shirt revealing just a slither of milk chocolate skin at her waist line. Her arms are toned and flex with every jab at the plastered tile. Her thick black hair is pulled back into a tight bun but is covered in the white dust from breaking through the tiles.

  Brandon clears his throat to speak loud enough to disrupt her, “Good morning!”

  The stunningly beautiful woman is clad in goggles and a dust mask. She turns around to see a shirtless, muscle bulging, sweaty man standing in the doorway. She pulls her mask down and mistakes him for one of the groundskeepers, “Hey, good morning. Can you do me a favor and bring me a vacuum when you get a chance? Thanks I’d really appreciate it.” She smiles and turns back around returning to the task at hand.

  He chuckles and speaks out again, “Excuse me, but I’m Brandon Fairchild.”

  The woman drops her tools immediately and rushes back to him apologetically, “Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry! I didn’t recognize you all dirty and covered in pig musk. It’s been a long time, Mr. Fairchild.”

  “Likewise, Ms. Saunders. It’s still Miss isn’t it,” he mildly flirts with his new employee.

  “Yes it is,” Elise replies shaking her head.

  “What are you shaking your head at?”

  “You! I know that smile. I know that look! You’re up to no good Brandon Fairchild. Remember that I know you! I know the kind of guy you are. You just think you can come in here make people swoon all over you. Take your shirt off and flex those muscles. Distracting me from my job… Wait a minute how did you know it was me in here?” she asks suddenly realizing he may have just been walking around without a shirt on.

  “I didn’t know it was you in here, Elise,” Brandon bursts into laughter, “I swear I didn’t. I just came in from doing my morning chores and didn’t wanna smell like cows.”

  Elise shakes her head in embarrassment, “Oh God. Please don’t fire me. I didn’t mean to insinuate or sexually harass you or make you feel uncomfortable.”

  “No worries Elise, no offense taken. But I’ll get that vacuum brought to you and we’ll keep things strictly professional like we always do,” he flashes her a grin full of teeth as he walks off toward his room to shower.

  Elise smiles in gratitude as she pulls her goggles down and mask up so she can get back to work. Once all of the tiles are stripped, the wall is sanded smooth, and the dust is cleaned away, she starts priming the wall with a coat of grey. She’s been in that room for hours making sure the entire wall is covered before she starts on her mural. Later that night, when Brandon checks in on her progress, he’s less than pleased.

  “You know, I thought things were going to be pretty easygoing seeing as we know each other’s work fairly well. I’d hoped you were different from the others,” he begins as his angers starts to bubble, “But obviously, you are just as incompetent as all of the rest!”

  “Excuse me,” Elise turns her face up at him, “What exactly am I doing wrong here?”

  “The room is going to be too dark! This is for a child,” he begins to pace around the room.

  “I know who it’s for! There’s no need to yell. You need to calm down and let me explain this process to you!” She’s taken aback by the presence of this raving lunatic. This is not the Brandon she knows.

  “Don’t tell me to calm down!” Brandon picks up the pint size can of primer and flings it at the wall. Paint splatters everywhere.

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me!” Elise screams. “After all of the work I did fixing that abominable job by the last guy! You come in and do this! You’re a grown man throwing tantrums! You hired me to come in and do a job. So let me do it, god dammit!”

  “I’m done hiring any more artists! You’d better finish this mural by week’s end and it had better not be too dark in here!”

  “It won’t! You just have to see this through to the end,” she promises calming herself down. Brandon leaves her alone in the room. Elise glances around at all of the paint. She can’t help but let a tear hit the floor as she drops to her hands and knees to begin wiping up the mess.

  Elise reminisces to the day they met:

  A few years ago, her and Gloria were fresh out of college. They were ready to take the world by storm, but the only problem was they didn’t have any jobs, and without jobs they didn’t have any money. So before the world was to be taken, they hit the job market. Gloria had been a fast food server for all of three weeks until she got her first burn from blistering hot fryer oil. That was enough and she quit. Elise tried her talents at being one of those cartoon mascots that host children’s birthday parties and events. The head stunk, and she could barely see through the eye cutouts. While she loved working with kids, the money wasn’t good enough. She quit in the middle of a six year old’s party after someone’s child bit her through the costume. Enough was enough. She took her head off and stormed out of the party. On her way out, she bumped into Brandon. He was dressed head to toe in a custom made suit with a huge cowboy hat on.

  “Where you going, Tony the Tiger?” he laughed.

  She couldn’t help but smile, “I’m not Tony the Tiger, does it look like things are Greeeaatt?” She mimics the cartoon’s catch phrase and they both burst into laughter.

  “So who are you supposed to be?” he asked her perplexed that such a beautiful woman could be stuck doing such a horrible job.

  “I’m Tigger. You know the bouncy guy from Winnie the Pooh?” she holds up the coiled, tiger striped, tail.

  “Oh okay I get it now,” he pulls the tail to see if it would recoil, “It’s cute. You’re cute. So where you headed? Don’t sound like the party’s over just yet.”

  “I quit! They couldn’t pay me to go back in there,” she complained.

  “What if I paid you?” Brandon offered.

  Elise finally took in the man standing in front of her, “You are a bit over dressed for a kid’s birthday party? What would you be paying me to do exactly?”

  As it turned out, Brandon was in the market trying to buy the house for a client at his father’s company. The client wanted the property, but the owners weren’t quite ready to sell. He offered to pay Elise to go back into the party and complain about how much better her last client’s party was, especially because the children at that party didn’t bite her. He gave her specific instructions on what to say and how to manipulate the parents into wanting to see the other house. Elise finally gave up the address after some back and forth with the parents. That’s all that Brandon needed, once he got them to the property that was up for sale he talked them into moving into that house and selling their old one to his client.

  Elise didn’t feel like it was the most honest thing to do and called Brandon on it. While he admitted that it fell in the grey area of sales tactics, at the end of the day it was for a good cause. The client who wanted the property to begin with, wanted to turn the land into a summer camp. He offered her the job to entertain the kids in one of her mascot costumes but instead she offered to paint beautiful pictures on the walls to make it kid friendly. From that day on, he knew to call her for charity work. Her reputation grew as a result and her paintings as an artist began to sell. She owed a lot to Brandon Fairchild, but would never admit that to him.

  “Don’t take it personally,” Logan tells her, breaking her from her memories. Elise’s eyes meet the tips of his polished Burberry shoes. Her sight traces his figure from his feet, up the length of his well-tailored suit, to his strong angular jaw. He’s clean shaven with a tray of food in hand. Once their eyes meet, his face softens.

  “I just don’t know what he doesn’t trust about my work. It’s not like he hasn’t seen any of it before. He knows how I work! I know it’s been a few years but damn! He just flipped out,” Elise keeps her eyes glued to the floor, scrubbing the paint away.

  “Step out here for a minute,” Logan moves into the hallway. Elise follows him and the food.

  He star
es into her hazel eyes, “He’s passionate about this particular job because his brother, Brody, lost his wife a few months ago. All the money in the world couldn’t help her survive the car crash she was in. Brody and his son are having a real hard time going through the grieving process, so he’s been working day and night on extensions to the property so they can come here. Brandon needs this room to be perfect for his nephew. It’s one less thing they need to worry about. He’s not the kind of person to bottle up his emotions, so just be aware that if you get one, you get them all. Be patient with him, he needs a woman’s touch. I’ll leave this here for you when you’re ready. If you don’t want it, then just let it be. It will be taken care of, no hard feelings.”

  Elise is left with a newfound perspective, reinvigorating her creativity and dedication to finish the mural. After the paint is scoured clean, she eats the meal, and outlines the portrait on the wall. Its completion is near but she opts to start painting the following day.

  Elise arrives just after dawn, while Brandon is carrying out his morning chores. She moves through the house quietly. She doesn’t want to disturb anyone who may still be asleep. The house is clearly occupied by a man. There aren’t any curtains on the windows, no family pictures adorn the walls, and women’s clothing or toiletries scattered about; as most women like to leave their mark on the home of the man they’re involved with. She shrugs her shoulders, letting go of the idea that the billionaire has a girlfriend of some sort stashed away in the house somewhere. She refocuses her attention to the job she is hired to do. Once she reaches the room, her imagination takes over illuminating her mind and bringing a joyous energy into the space. The mural consumes her as she paints her layers creating a portrait of beauty.

  Brandon notices Elise is here and is quite surprised she returned. Typically, people quit after one of his temperamental flare ups. This woman is different, he realizes. He remembers her distinctively from their interactions years ago, but her standing up to him is something different for him entirely … it’s a rarity. He grabs a cup of coffee for her to drink and heads toward the bedroom. He knocks on the wall to get her attention.