Hellion, a New Adult Romance Novel (The Rebel Series) by Elle Casey

For the first time that I can remember, art has made me totally speechless.
    I walk towards the easel slowly as he turns a lamp on nearby.
    “No! Turn it off,” I say a little too loudly, my arm flying out to somehow protect the vision I saw from the harsh light of reality.
    He flicks it off and looks at me with a new expression on his face.
    A glance at him tells me he’s worried.
    “What do you think?” he asks.
    “I think I want to have your babies,” I say in a near-whisper as I step up to the canvas and stop.   It’s about three feet high and two feet wide.   I frown and take a few steps back in the direction I came from.   My smile comes back.   “Holy fucking wow.”
    “I’m going to take that as a thumbs up.”
    I look at him, recognizing his expression for what it is now.   Vulnerability.   The artist exposes his inner soul.
    “You are really amazing, you know that?”   The words just pop out of my mouth.   “Ten thousand fucking thumbs up.   Seriously.   Give me your sperm.” I point at the painting. “I want my children to have those genes.   I’ll take it in a to-go cup if that’s convenient.”
    He grins bigger than I’ve ever seen him grin before.   And there’s zero sexiness to it; all I see is joy.   He looks like how I’ve always imagined the archangel Gabriel.
    “That’s why Mick didn’t want you over here.   He knew as soon as you saw my junk you’d be mine.”
    I burst out laughing right along with him.   It feels good to let all the stress of the night go like that.   My eyes are drawn back to the painting and my laughter fades.
    “How did you do this?   When?” I have never been able to fathom people with this level of talent.   It makes me wonder what the holy hell he’s doing living over a car garage.   He could be in New York City selling his stuff for a mint.   He could at least afford a maid if he sold one of these once in a while. “You seriously need to get this into a gallery.”
    My gaze roams every corner of the painting and then the middle too.   The image there on the canvas is Teagan, but then again not.   She’s looking at something I can only guess is Rebel, because she has that serious goo-goo expression on her face. And for once she doesn’t look stressed or mad or worried about something.   She looks older.   Wiser.   More mature, like maybe how she’ll be in ten years. I used to see her stress-free face once in a great while at school, but this summer it’s been completely absent.   I guess I haven’t been around her and Rebel enough.   I almost want to reach out and touch it, but I don’t because I wouldn’t want to put a single speck of anything but Colin’s touch on this miracle.
    “She’s so beautiful.” Now, instead of laughing, I feel like crying.   “You captured the essence of my little Tea-Tea.”
    “Tea-Tea?” He leans over to look at the painting.   “That’s not Teagan.   That’s Mick.”
    For a second I’m stunned because he looks so serious. But then we both start laughing again. I cannot believe the amount of awesome brain chemistry I have floating through my system right now.   I’m literally high on life, and it’s all thanks to Colin.
    I’m bent over, holding on to his shoulder so I don’t fall on the ground, when the door to his apartment opens up.
    Colin flicks the sheet down over the painting and stands up straight, causing my hand to drop back down to my side.   I turn my head and see Rebel at the door.
    “What’s up?” Colin asks, all signs of humor gone from his face and his voice.   Suddenly it’s like that moment of sheer joy between us never happened.
    “I need to talk to you for a minute.   Let Mick take her home.”
    Now my humor’s gone too.   Stupid Rebel.   “I’m not riding with Mick, thank you very much.”
    “Then I’ll take you,” says Rebel.   “And I’ll just talk to Teagan when I get back.”
    I narrow my eyes at him. Well-played turd-basket.   I