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Chapter 28:
🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙
“It was just a casual purchase at the time, but it’s out of production now.”
Kellan wasn’t entirely sure if his senses were playing tricks on him, but there was a noticeable shift in Allison’s voice when she spoke, a subtle lightness, as though the thought of the perfume genuinely pleased her.
The courtyard basked in the soft glow of sunlight, casting an even warmth over everything. Two cats weaved around their legs, occasionally rubbing against them, their meows demanding attention. The faint scent of plum drifted from Allison, soothing the restlessness bubbling inside Kellan.
Distracted, he accidentally pushed a bit too hard, poking a hole in the clay he had been working on.
“Careful. Don’t force it,” she instructed. “Let the clay guide you. Shape it gently until it starts to come together on its own, and then you can give it that final nudge.”
Allison flicked her finger, guiding his hand with a subtle touch, placing his fingers where they needed to be. “If you want it to have life, don’t treat it like a lump of dead weight. Relax,” she said softly. “And stop locking your fingers up like that.”
Their fingertips brushed, and Kellan felt a subtle jolt run through him, like a spark of electricity.
He wanted to pull back, but doing so would make it too obvious, too deliberate. Her voice lingered in the air, soft but commanding, as if it alone could hold him there. He noticed how her skin, pale but warm, was lined with faint calluses on her fingers.
From where he sat, he could see her face, fully focused on the clay.
Her bangs were a little out of place, but her hands moved with precision. The calluses on her fingertips—particularly her ring finger and index finger—reminded him of his own, except his were earned through years of handling firearms.
Lɑτєѕτ cнαρτєrs 𝑖n g𝓪l𝗇ovєl𝑠.𝓬o𝓶
“You can support it a bit more underneath,” she added. Kellan mentally shook himself, realizing how ridiculous his thinking had been.
Allison? Like him? There was no way!
He had been raised on gunpowder and violence; she seemed so detached, so unbothered by the world around her. And if she did know her way around firearms, Colton likely wouldn’t still be standing.
He was clearly overthinking!
As the clay began to take the shape of something more refined under his fingers, Kellan found himself smiling — genuinely smiling. It was a rare expression for him, and the softness in his eyes startled him.
Unbeknownst to him, Colton had entered the courtyard, his hand intertwined with Melany’s. The sight before them stopped them both in their tracks. A man and a woman sitting close together, shaping clay. They looked almost peaceful, as if they belonged there.
“Are you sure this is the place?” Colton asked, frowning slightly. He squinted, struggling to believe the woman in front of him was Allison. She wasn’t supposed to be here, let alone making pottery with Kellan — of all people, who was notorious for his impatience with women and unpredictable temper since his injury.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Melany replied, her voice carrying a hint of hesitation as her eyes widened in disbelief. As they approached, there was no mistaking it. It was Allison and Kellan.
A flicker of jealousy crossed Melany’s face, but she quickly composed herself, putting on a polite smile.
“What a small world, Allison! I didn’t expect you to be so quick to the punch. I heard tracking down Emanuel could take weeks, maybe longer with how eccentric he is. And not to mention, his prices are sky-high…” She trailed off, as though suddenly remembering something important. “Oh, right, silly me! You just got that nice little windfall — four million, wasn’t it? I guess this kind of expense must feel like pocket change to you now.”
Allison didn’t so much as glance her way, treating her presence as though it didn’t even register.
Realizing that her attempt to create tension was falling flat, and seeing that Allison and Kellan continued their work, completely unfazed, Melany forced herself to strike up a conversation.
“You must be Mr. Lloyd? I didn’t expect to find you here.” Colton, pulled from his distracted thoughts by her words, quickly masked his surprise. He turned away from his focus on Allison, forcing a smile as he reached out to Kellan.
“I’ve heard quite a lot about you, Mr. Lloyd. It’s a bit of a shock running into you here.”
The politeness between them was practiced, almost too similar.
Kellan, however, didn’t even glance up. Instead, he kept his focus on Allison. “Does this look good to you?”
“Yeah, you’ve got the technique down,” she replied.
“This piece is good, no doubt, but it’s still a bit of a shame,” Kellan said, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.
“What’s the shame in it?” Allison asked, genuinely curious. From her perspective, this one was an improvement over his earlier work. What was there to find fault with?
“Art should always strive for perfection, but once a crack appears, it’s hard to ignore. Perfection is rare. Even harder to maintain. Yet some people insist on creating unnecessary disruptions!” Kellan’s tone dropped, taking on a chill as he spoke.
If Colton and Melany had a bit more wit, they’d recognize the subtle dig for what it was: a clear hint that they weren’t wanted. Anyone with any sense would take the cue to leave. Melany, however, fought to keep her calm, and Colton, after a beat, reluctantly lowered his hand, his face tight with suppressed frustration.
He wasn’t used to being treated like this, but he wasn’t clueless either. He knew Kellan had no interest in their company.
“Colton,” Melany whispered from behind, lightly tugging on his sleeve as though fearing he might lash out.
Mindful of the business interests at stake, Colton swallowed his pride, forcing himself to endure the insult. He plastered a thin smile on his face.
“You’re absolutely right, sir. Your views on art are truly eye-opening.”
His compliment, though stiff, barely concealed his irritation. Melany, seeing him struggle, resumed her bright, innocent demeanor.
“Mr. Lloyd, your craftsmanship is something else,” she said, flashing a charming smile. “I’ve rarely seen pottery so perfectly formed. Even just looking at the shape, I can tell it’s of the highest quality. I may not know how to craft pottery myself, but I have a deep appreciation for it. That’s why we made the trip here to learn from Mr. Welsh, the pottery master. Running into you is an unexpected treat.”
With a delicate gesture, she tucked her hair behind her ear, her voice light and sweet. “Mr. Lloyd, would you mind if we sat here and watched for a while?”
.
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