Leighton looked up with a start as Stefan barged into her office.
He kicked the door closed, plopped a croissant on the desk in front of her, then dropped into a chair and took a bite of a filled doughnut. “I was right.” His eyes twinkled. “That gorgeous redhead at the bakery told me he works Monday through Friday. So, I bought a dozen of his pastries, and he threw in a few extra for me.” He wiped a smear of cream from his lower lip.
“Mmm, thank you.” Leighton took a delicate bite from one end, trying to keep the falling crumbs on the napkin. “Did you ask him out?”
“Not yet. That would be too obvious. I’m still feeling my way and want to try his snickerdoodles first. They might be a deal-breaker.”
His serious expression had her wondering about the truth of his statement. “You’re awful.” She sipped her coffee.
“What? I like my sweets.” He patted his belly.
That was an understatement, and she’d have to show some self-control if he continued to bring her baked goods each morning.
“You should ask him. Buy your snickerdoodles elsewhere if his aren’t to your liking.” She brushed a few flaky crumbs from her chest.
“Why buy the cow when you can—”
“Stefan Jovic! Don’t you dare.” She glared at him. “Besides, that saying isn’t meant as a reference to a few free pastries.”
He grinned as he finished the last bite of his doughnut. “Relax, I’m just joking. You know I’d like the complete package. I’m not twenty-nine anymore.” With a napkin, he swiped at his mouth. “Speaking of milk, now I want some.”
“I have oat milk in the fridge. Help yourself, but before you go, I have some information that might interest you, Sherlock.” It’d intrigued her.
“Do tell.” He tossed his crumpled napkin at the trash can. It missed.
Leighton retrieved it and discarded it. “While you were in the kitchen this morning, Devin returned a book he’d borrowed from Casey.”
Stefan rested an ankle on his knee. “So? We knew they’d all gone to college together.”
“He also returned her retainer that he found behind his nightstand.” She waited a beat for his reaction.
“In-teresting.” He leaned back in his chair and glanced at the ceiling. “And gross. What did she do?”
“She didn’t seem too happy with him, especially when he asked about her son.” Leighton threw her napkin away, sinking it like a free throw.
“How so?” He rubbed his hands together.
“His question seemed to irritate her. She hissed at him to let it go, and he dropped the subject.” Leighton never wanted to be the recipient of the look Casey had given Devin.
“Hmm.” Stefan tapped his upper lip, then stood and clasped his hands behind his back. “Thank you for the informative morning briefing. I will consider the recent evidence while I further explore my theory. However, to work now, I must go.” With a twinkle in his eye and a mock salute, he left her office.
His words lingered long after he’d gone. Why had she told him about the exchange between Casey and Devin? He was sure to dive into the middle of it. He was a gossip and a pot stirrer by virtue of his nature. He always had been. At least he was excellent at his job, and most of the time he amused her. She supposed it was better Stefan dug for information rather than her, because as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she wouldn’t mind knowing who Andy’s father was. It could shine a light on what made Casey choose to have a baby while in college, if having a child had been a decision. Even though not all babies were planned, it was a decision to keep it.
Her desire to know personal details about Casey bothered her, but she couldn’t quash it. After all, Leighton didn’t think she’d imagined all the appreciative looks Casey continued to give her. Was it possible she’d misinterpreted what felt like a connection between them? She wasn’t about to call it chemistry, not with a woman she wasn’t sure liked women.
Regardless, her instinct led her to believe something existed between them, something she couldn’t name. Her eagerness to scan the studio each morning to see if Casey had arrived made the elevator doors seem to work in slow motion, and that sense she got during a lecture that Casey grasped the concept she was teaching before anyone else made her want to break out in a grin. Whatever it was, it made her hold back when she saw Casey working in the studio late at night rather than inquire if she’d eaten or was getting enough sleep. Leighton cared about all her students, but it didn’t occur to her to ask the others these questions.
With a sense of dread, she concluded these little things added up to one big problem.
* * *
A week later, Leighton settled into her favorite spot on the small sofa near the bookshelves with a fresh coffee and the latest copy of PleinAir magazine. The students had an hour of open studio before their next class, and she wanted to make herself available. She’d learned last year that some of them appeared uncomfortable disturbing her in her office.
Stefan passed her. He formed a V with his fingers, then wiggled it near his eyes, a signal for her to watch him.
She glanced around, unsure what was happening.
He tiptoed across the floor with exaggerated steps, as though mimicking a cartoon burglar. Leighton could almost hear the Mission: Impossible theme song and tried not to laugh. He stopped behind Devin, who had his head in the supply cabinet, and arranged himself against the workbench. His antics looked ridiculous.
“Hey, Devin. How’s it going?”
Devin leaned to see past the open door. “Fine. I’m just looking for a razor blade to sharpen my pencil.” He resumed his search.
“I mean, how are things working out?” Stefan struck a pose like a model half sprawled over the surface, hip jutted out and chin in hand. “Are you liking the classes so far?”
Leighton shook her head and gave Stefan a knowing look.
“Yeah. Where are the razor blades?”
Leighton strained to hear Devin from his location halfway inside the cupboard. She glanced across the room to find Casey clearly engrossed in her drawing and unaware of the conversation.
“Third shelf down.” Stefan rolled his eyes, seemingly annoyed he didn’t have Devin’s full attention. “So, are you hoping to learn to paint in the style of another artist while you’re here?”
Leighton mouthed the word smooth at him.
“Nah, I just want to be good.”
A rattle and clang sounded from inside the cabinet, like a stack of supplies had been knocked over. Leighton tensed but forced herself to remain seated.
Stefan peeked at her, grimaced, then turned back to Devin. “But isn’t there an artist who inspires you, whose style you wish to emulate?”
“I guess if I had to, I’d pick—Shit! I cut myself.” Devin withdrew from the cabinet and studied his hand.
Leighton sprung from the couch and rushed to him. A bright line of crimson oozed from his index finger. She examined it. The cut was shallow but still needed tending.
“You won’t need stitches.” Her breathing steadied as the fear of one of her students suffering a serious injury ebbed. “You’ll find bandages in the first aid kit in the bathroom. Do you want help?”
“No, thanks.” He headed that way, his good hand cupped under his damaged one.
Leighton turned to Stefan. “You’re incorrigible.”
He snapped his fingers in mock frustration. “So close! No, I’m dedicated. Unlike some people who will let a good mystery pass them by, I’m trying to solve it.”
“That’s just it.” She kept her voice low. “I don’t think it needs solving. It’s irrelevant.” If only she truly felt that way.
“Oh, honey. You’re dying to know as much as I am.” He pointed at her. “I know you, Leighton Raphaela Vaughn.”
She closed her eyes. “That’s not even my middle name.”
Hiring Stefan had been a simple decision. His paintings were gorgeous, and he was a natural teacher. She’d already learned several helpful pedagogical techniques from him, and the students already seemed to like and respect him.
His antics, which had been silly and comical for as long as she’d known him, left her a little uneasy when it involved Casey. He could be impetuous while being funny. He’d always known where to draw the line, but this was different. She trusted him, but if he inadvertently slipped up, the stakes were high.
What if Casey hadn’t been so absorbed in her drawing, if she’d seen or heard Stefan’s shenanigans? What if somehow she figured out they were snooping into her private life? Casey and her talent were Leighton’s best chance at launching Atelier Vaughn into the spotlight. She couldn’t afford to let her, if not cause her, to walk out the door.
Yes, Leighton had a crush on her, something she would’ve thought she’d outgrown years ago, and that made her curious about Casey’s personal business, but that could and needed to be squelched. And as much as Leighton hated to admit it, Stefan’s interest in the matter was her own fault. She knew him well enough to be sure that if she mentioned the scene between Casey and Devin, along with having told him about Casey’s son being named after his father’s favorite artist, he’d immediately want the scoop and do anything to get it.
She had to get him—and herself—under control.