Too Close to Resist by Nicole Helm

nightmare paintings. Dark, brooding. Some were even abstracts, a real departure for her.
    But Susan and Leah oohed and aahed over a stormy river scene. It was slashes of grays and blacks. Muted greens, violent streaks of textured blue.
    “This would look fantastic in our living room.”
    “It is great, but don’t we have enough art in our living room?” Susan offered Grace an apologetic look. “I love it, Grace, but Kelly seriously has an art-buying addiction.”
    “Please don’t...apologize,” Grace returned lamely. She was having a hard time breathing normally while they studied her work. It was the same feeling she’d had a few nights ago when Kyle had looked at her paintings.
    Uncomfortable. There was no rush of maybe getting a sale. There was only...fear. God, she was so tired of that feeling she’d shoot it if she could.
    Kelly started going through the stack Grace had chosen purposefully for the interested client. She held her breath as Kelly made clucking noises with her tongue.
    “I wish I had a creative bone in my body,” Leah said, looking from the family picture Grace had on the nightstand to a painting of violets. “I love my job, but sometimes it’d be nice to do something not so...mathy.”
    “I write,” Susan added. “But I wish I could do something like this. More visual.”
    Coming from women who intimidated her, the praise, the envy, it helped put Grace at ease. Maybe they weren’t all so different. Maybe she wasn’t somehow on a separate plane.
    “I think the two river paintings over there will be great for the Martin house. Maybe even the apples. Actually, most of your still-life pieces could be quite usable.”
    “I—” It was far more than Grace expected, and Kelly seemed shrewd enough about what she wanted for Grace to believe that maybe, just maybe, this was about talent and not her last name.
    “Seriously, why didn’t Jacob think of this before?” Leah demanded. “I swear he has his head shoved so far up his ass it’s a wonder he doesn’t walk into walls.” Leah winced a smile. “Sorry, Grace.”
    Grace waved her off. “I love him and he’s amazing, but he does occasionally have his head up his ass.”
    “Regardless of whose head is up whose ass, I’ll need prices for these pieces before I can show the options to Mrs. Martin. You’ll want to sign them, and then we can make a big deal out of you being a local.” Kelly tapped a finger to her chin. “Do you have a business card?”
    “Um, yeah. I think. Let me check.” Grace remembered she’d put a few business cards in her purse last time she’d gone to Iowa City. She pulled open her purse, began to riffle through the contents.
    Leah whistled. “Sweet Glock. Can I see it?”
    Grace looked at the gun in her purse. “Um. Okay.” She pulled it out of the holster and handed it to Leah. It was almost as personal as letting them look at her art. Even though the gun itself didn’t mean anything to her, their knowing she had it opened up a piece of her. The piece she didn’t like at all.
    “You decorated it,” Susan said, joining Leah in the study.
    “Well, I...” She had taken some liberties and given it a little paint makeover, just to make it feel less like what it was and more like what she wanted it to be. Painted with the same design as her tattoo, she could pretend it was a symbol, not a shield to hide behind.
    “Can you do that to mine?” Leah asked.
    “Well, sure.”
    “You have to join our book club.”
    Kelly groaned from the other side of the bed.
    “Book club?”
    “Those two idiots pretend they have a book club and go out to Shades gun range every Thursday night.”
    Grace looked at Kelly, then back to the two women admiring her gun. She could recognize when she was being invited into a social group. It was rare these days, but she could still recognize it.
    Part of her was hesitant. It was still hard to trust people outside of her family. Even the friends she’d known since kindergarten