Free The Hometown Hoax (The Hoax Series) by Heather Thurmeier Page A

exactly. She’d moved around. First on the dock where he now sat, then off in the woods on a fallen log that hadn’t looked comfortable, and finally siting by the fire that would soon be lit.
    What was in that sketchbook of hers? Pictures, obviously, but of what? When she looked around this space that she seemed to simultaneously love and hate, what did she see that was worth immortalizing on paper? He wanted to commit every moment of his time here to memory, but this was all so new and unfamiliar to him. Did she feel the same way, wanting to commit the scenes to paper permanently even though she claimed she couldn’t wait to get away from here again? It didn’t seem to add up. Curiosity sent him into motion and he wandered over to her, sipping his beer along the way. Did she look at the sunset and think it was as amazing as he did? Or was it another boring end to a day in a small town to her?
    He wasn’t exactly being sneaky, but he wasn’t loud or obvious either. When he neared her chair, almost close enough to see her current page, her head snapped up and her book flipped shut. The look she shot him said he was busted and guilty of spying.
    Strangely, seeing how protective she was of her work actually made him feel guilty.
    “What are you working on so hard over here?” he asked, taking a seat across from her and setting down his beer.
    “Nothing.”
    “Well, you’ve been working on nothing for hours.”
    “Sketches.” She folded her hands on top of the book protectively.
    “Oh good. That puts to rest the idea that you were doing origami.” Grabbing a few logs and some kindling, he started building up the fire pit.
    “Why do you care so much what I was sketching?”
    “I don’t. It’s called making polite conversation. That’s all.”
    The kindling caught and he blew on the small flame, making it dance and grow. In a few minutes the larger logs smoldered and he could feel heat radiating out of the pit. Soon it would be warm and cozy and he was ready for another drink to enjoy fireside.
    “I’m going in to grab another beer. You want anything?” he asked as he picked up his empty bottle. “Unless of course it’s none of my business what you’re drinking tonight and therefore couldn’t possibly consider getting it for you.”
    “I’d love a glass of wine. Thank you.”
    “Watch the fire while I’m gone, okay?”
    “Sure,” she said standing and grabbing a long, skinny stick then gently poking at the fire.
    When he returned a few minutes later, he handed her the glass of red wine. Waiting for him in his chair was her sketchbook, opened. He sat with it in his lap, taking in all the little details. This was more than a sketch. As he expected, it was a landscape of the cabin and the surrounding woods. She’d done an outstanding job of capturing the atmosphere of the area. The way the light twinkled off the lake and seeped through the branches of the trees, the small animals hiding in the ground cover and leaves, even the hint of fog rising off the surface of the water like it had this morning when he’d gone for his jog. The more he looked, the more details he noticed, including what looked to be the shape of a man, mid-stride, jogging in the woods.
    “You did this whole thing when I went for my jog, didn’t you?” He didn’t wait for her to reply. “It’s amazing.”
    “Thank you,” she said, crouching at his side, looking at the sketch with him. “I’m sorry I was bitchy when you asked about my book. I don’t like to share my work, especially not until it’s finished, but I shouldn’t have expected you to know that. I could have told you that instead of being so rude.”
    She looked so vulnerable and unsure of herself, but she had no reason to be. He wished he had that kind of talent to be protective of. “What made you decide to show me this one?”
    She shrugged. “This one seemed finished. I’m sure there are things I could fix, but for a sketch, it’s not bad. Good enough