A/N Thanks so much for stopping by. I hope you enjoy this new Bethyl story. I was inspired by the scene of Daryl whittling in S2, back on the Greene farm.

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The Wood Sculptor

Mama and Daddy weren't happy with her decision, she understood their disappointment and she didn't fault them for being concerned.

She'd successfully completed her four years of undergrad at the Savannah College of Art and Design and gotten her degree. Then she'd gone on to earn a Master's Degree in art history. She'd immediately gotten three prestigious employment offers, two with renowned museums and one as an instructor at a private college.

And she'd simply walked away from all of that opportunity.

She could afford to, well at least for a little while. She had a college trust her maternal Grandmother had setup for her the day she was born. It was intended to pay for her educational expenses but since she'd received several scholarships, the bulk of the trust fund money remained. There was enough to help her build her dream and support herself for a couple of years, as long as she was careful how she spent that money. Of course Grandma had expected it would be used to pay for her college education, including an advanced degree. But she was just sure if anyone would understand her wanting to follow her dream it would be Grandma.

She knew her parents were worried about her future and her security, and she got it. What she felt sure of was, when you want something bad enough sometimes you just have to take a chance, a leap of faith.

Her dream was to open her own studio and do what she enjoyed doing most, painting. She hoped her works would sell, but she felt if she hadn't "caught on" by the time the money ran out, at least she'd always know she gave it a shot.

And what could be better than pursuing her dream in the beautiful historic district of downtown Savannah? There was the art, the culture and the true Southern hospitality, all things she loved and wanted to surround herself with.

She'd gotten a tip on what seemed to be the perfect rental unit, one that not only did she feel she could actually afford, but it was located right where she wanted to be. She was interested in leasing a true artists' unit, one she could live in but that would also serve as her studio and small storefront. Her big hope now was it was at least half decent because it sounded too good to be true. And it did seem to be some kind of a given, things always sounded better on paper or on the internet than they actually were.

The charm began with the buildings' exterior which was a classic low country design. It was white, two stories and featured a very nice front porch, columns and a dark roof. As she entered the Wood Sculptor's storefront a little bell above the door chimed. It would be difficult not to be a little overwhelmed stepping in, the shop was full of the most beautiful and intricate wood carvings she'd ever seen; the whole place had a kind of natural earthy vibe to it.

She recognized the unique and exquisite work immediately, and she couldn't help but stop and admire some of the stunning pieces. She felt almost compelled to reach her hand out and touch the carvings, but she didn't want to take a chance on disturbing anything, or overstepping. She'd heard the sculptor was a very temperamental sort, and she certainly didn't want trouble with him, he was after all very possibly her new landlord.

There was an attractive dark haired woman working behind the counter who asked, "Can I help you with anything today? We have several new pieces."

"Oh thank you. Every piece is just so lovely and so precisely detailed and perfect, I could look at them all day. But for now I'm here about the rental unit, my name's Beth Greene, I called yesterday."

"Oh yes hello I've been expecting you," the woman smiled, putting her a little at ease, "Nice to meet you Beth, I'm Tara. He's in his studio let me just run tell him you're here."

And the woman left her standing there admiring a sculpture of a manatee and its calf while she went to find the artist.

When she saw him she nearly fainted, she'd been right it, was the Daryl Dixon. Oh my God, Maggie and Glenn had spent a small fortune to buy one of his works. It was a saddle-less horse rearing up and obviously frightened and angry, its nostrils were flaring and its rider was desperately trying to keep hold of the horses' mane. They had it proudly displayed in their living room.

She was more than a little panicky at just the thought of meeting the sculptor. It wasn't only his talent or his notoriety and reputation, it was him. He looked kind of dangerous and almost as though he was scowling. His dark shaggy hair gave him an unkempt appearance, it wasn't that it looked dirty it was just messy, as though he never combed it. The hair combined with his facial scruff, those piercing and hard blue eyes, plus his impossibly squared shoulders and muscular build, well he was definitely quite the package, and the package was very intimidating. And very, very sexy.

"So you're the one that talked ta Tara lookin' ta rent the studio space?" And then that right there, that was the finisher, his coarse voice with the backwoods "honey-dripping-from-it" southern drawl.

"Yes I'm Beth Greene."

"Yeah well it ain't real fancy Beth Greene but it's good sized and the livin' area is pretty well separated from the work area," And then he moved his mouth into what she supposed was a smile, small and tightlipped, "Yeah separated alright, there's a damn big-ass brick wall right down the center a the room." He shook his head slightly, "I don't know whose bright idea that was but at least there's a nice open arch down at the far end of it. I s'pose ya could put a curtain or sumthin' up, ya know, let folks know ya don't want 'em wanderin' into your studio or your livin' area. Or you could just get a gun n shoot anyone who tried." And the way he'd said that he almost sounded serious.

"Quit it Daryl you're going to scare Beth. Just show her the rental for gawd sake."

He turned to Tara, "Well yes ma'am whatever ya say, shit I thought I's the boss around here."

They both sounded a little pissed and Beth couldn't tell if they were serious or goofing around. She wondered if they were a couple.

As they walked across the open vestibule area between the shops he asked her, "What kind a storefront ya thinkin' 'bout openin'?"

"I paint, my medium is watercolors. I do mostly seascape pieces but I love old south charm so I also paint some southern gardens. I don't plan on selling other artists' work in the shop, just my own, at least for now."

"Yeah well your watercolors oughta be popular around here. But how ya gonna pay the rent 'til your business gets off the ground? The last person that leased this joint stiffed me for two month's rent."

She didn't share her story, there was no need, she simply said, "I have enough money set aside to keep me going for a couple of years."

The unit was everything she'd hoped for and so much more. The shop area wasn't too big and that's what she wanted, a cozy feel. The brick wall would actually be great for hanging some of her pieces, it would present a nice contrast to set them against. The wood floor, the wood trim, the gorgeous wood counter, all of it was perfect looking. It was obvious it had been restored with a loving hand respectful of the history and the beauty of the old wood.

"Did you do the restoration yourself Mr. Dixon?"

She'd swear he snorted at her, "Name's Daryl." Then he got a serious look to him, "Yeah I done it all, I guess I didn't trust no one else ta do it right. Sounds bigheaded don't it? I ain't really that, but I am particular about the look a wood an how it's treated. Tara says I'm like some fussy old lady." Then yes, Tara probably was his girlfriend.

The studio area was small as well but it was plenty big enough to suit her needs, and the truth was she always preferred to paint outside when she could.

He showed her the living area which consisted of a single room separated only by its furnishings. It was perfect. There was a double bed at one end and next to it a small antique bedside table, it held a lamp with an old-fashioned beaded shade. There was a small bureau and instead of a closet an armoire.

In what was the living room area of the open room there was a small sofa and two cozy chairs, an antique coffee table and two side tables. Her eyes were drawn to a small antique desk, what they once called a ladies writing desk, it was so lovely. The kitchen area featured a small fridge, a smaller stove, an ancient porcelain sink with equally ancient plumbing fixtures, wooden countertops, open storage shelves and a small dining table with two chairs. Everything was so masterfully restored even those old plumbing fixtures looked almost new.

"Everythin's furnished 'cept the beddin' n your towels n whatnot like that. There's some dishes, probably not enough. If ya take the place I don't care if ya move in your own things, just let me know so's I can move these ta my storage. And don't paint any woodwork. Oh, I guess I oughta show ya the bathroom."

It seemed he'd saved the best for last. The tile was art deco and an small antique dresser had been re-purposed as a vanity with a beautiful hand-painted vessel sink. But the best thing was the old claw foot tub.

She realized the antique furnishings and old fixtures probably wouldn't appeal to just anyone, but they appealed to her.

"My gosh Daryl I can't believe how beautifully restored everything is. I wouldn't dream of changing a thing. It's like a museum of old south style and charm."

She thought he looked embarrassed by her words. "Yeah thanks, um there's a common courtyard out back c'mon an I'll show ya. If ya decide ta take the place you're welcome ta use it, have a couple a friends by, but no parties or nuthin' like that. It's supposed ta be a private area for just relaxin'. You're welcome ta grill n eat out there, read, have a couple drinks, whatever ya like that way. But I ain't one for parties n such as that, I like the quiet."

As they walked to the courtyard she asked, "So you live here as well?"

"Yeah, the whole upstairs of the buildin' is my place. There's just the two downstairs shops, yours if ya take it, an mine."

The courtyard, just like the rental unit, was all traditional old south charm. There was a cut stone walkway through lush trimmed hedges and beautiful and colorful flowers planted in such a way they gave the feeling of organized chaos. The gnarled myrtle trees added a kind of lazy French Quarter vibe, and in the center there was an imposing fountain complete with water lilies. She was certain he'd made the beautiful outdoor sofa and chairs himself; they were far too exquisite to be store bought. Off to the back was a striking arched gate that led to a private rear parking area.

"My gosh Daryl this whole place is just gorgeous. I'd never want to leave the shop and this courtyard."

Finally he smiled a real smile, but again she noticed he looked embarrassed, "Yeah that's how I am. I mostly just hang here unless I'm out searchin' for wood, or fishin' or huntin'. Other than that, I drink my beer right here in the courtyard. I ain't much for a big social life."

She smiled, "I'm the same, well not about the hunting and searching for wood," she laughed softly, nervously, "But the social life part. I always think it sounds like so much fun, going out and partying or whatever, but the truth is I'm a homebody. Shoot I'm even nervous about the shop because of, well you know, dealing with people all the time."

It was almost as though he loosened up a little. "Yeah I know what ya mean that's why I got Tara. I do the carvin' Tara deals with the people."

Thank God she'd caught herself before she asked him the question foremost on her mind, "Is Tara your girlfriend?" If that had slipped out she swore she would have turned and run right out that gorgeous back gate.

She said she'd like to take the place and he was happy to have the unit rented out, not because he needed her rent money but because it looked bad when the storefront next to him was empty. And he'd hoped another artist would move in, not a hair salon or a souvenir shop. Tara always told him they needed a "complimentary" business next door, and he listened to her because she knew about people and he didn't know shit about them.

He just wished Beth Greene wasn't so attractive and so damned appealing, because the last thing he wanted to have happen was to ever be attracted to a woman. But when she looked at him with those big blues eyes it was like they were reeling him right in.

He'd almost gotten sucked into a relationship once and that one time had cured him of ever wanting that with anyone. The woman, a metal sculptor named Paula kept coming around. She was just getting started in the art world and he'd already achieved success and notoriety. At first it was like she just wanted to talk to him about his art and art in general, and she seemed pretty nice. Then she started asking him to please take her with him here and there to meet the "right" people. She seemed to know of every gallery opening, art gathering, artists' private showing and parties attended by people in the art community.

She'd ask to tag along and he thought she was nice and interesting and all and he didn't mind helping her get a start, so he'd take her. It did make him uncomfortable the way she'd hang on his arm, or rub on his back, or move herself closer into him when they were in public. But he just kept telling himself it was because she was nervous in front of all the influential artists, critics and wealthy collectors.

Soon she started trying to move real fast with the physical but he was more into taking it slow, he just wasn't sure he had or that he ever would have those kinds of feelings for her. He didn't want to hurt anyone or take advantage of a situation.

Merle had tried to warn him what she was, "Ya got yourself some fame now n she's all about promotin' herself by usin' ya, bein' seen with ya. She's one a them famewhores. Trust me on this one little brother, she's trouble." He'd fought with his brother over it, accused him of being jealous, it had almost come to blows between the brothers.

Then one morning Tara came in and asked to speak to him privately, in his office. She'd turned on his computer and showed him pictures on the various social media sites, and even a little film on YouTube someone had put together. They were all photo manipulations showing him with Paula. They were everywhere including the gossip sites, and the copy and the photos all implied they were lovers having some kind of serious affair. She'd even given an interview to some gossip rag where she'd implied they had some serious plans for their future.

He'd been crushed. Not because he cared for her so much but because he'd been so used. Merle was right all along, she was using him to further her career. What it did was instill within him a strong belief that people couldn't be trusted; the world was full of assholes. And so he'd begun to remove himself more and more from the world. He soon had a reputation as a temperamental recluse and he didn't give a fuck. He just wanted to be left alone to do the things he loved, hunting, fishing and wood carving.

He left the running of the business and the dealing with people to Tara, she was the perfect friend and employee for him. She could be hard-assed with him when he needed it, but she was also a loving and caring, and he knew she didn't have the least bit of interest in him for anything other than their close friendship.

He had a very small circle of people he was willing to spend his time with, Tara and her girlfriend Denise, Merle and his woman Karen, his long-time friend Rick Grimes and his wife Michonne and their children; they were the only people he completely trusted and felt somewhat at ease around.

The fact that he kept himself so removed from the public eye had sparked incredible interest in his work. His price tag had shot right up. He was often referred to as "Mysterious" which seemed to have some kind of prestige and value to it. That always gave him a good laugh. He figured he was about as mysterious as any other dumbass redneck.

But shit, now here was this Beth Greene woman and she was already right there playing around in his head, non-stop.

She just kept telling herself the only reason she was having this attraction to Daryl Dixon, and couldn't seem to get him off her mind, was because he was so talented. Okay yes true, that and the fact that he was also way too handsome and way too sexy. But as nice as he seemed she'd heard he was as moody as all get out and that he didn't care for people at all.

Still it seemed to her when he showed her the rental and the courtyard he wasn't moody or mean, it was more like he was uneasy and kind of awkward and shy. Maybe she'd just felt that way because she admired his work, especially his restorations.

Three days later she was moving in. She'd rented a small U-Haul trailer and Aaron had not only helped her move her things in, he'd helped her set up her studio and the shop. He was such a great friend to her she'd never be able to repay all of his kindnesses. When they were done for the day she'd asked him, "You won't let me pay you so how about a glass of wine and some fancy cheeses in the courtyard, can I at least treat you to that?"

"Now you're speaking my language Beth that sounds wonderful."

He hadn't meant to be spying on her, not at all, but his studio window looked right out on the courtyard and there she was. With some tall handsome drink of water. Well then he supposed there was no worry she'd be interested in him. Thank God.

Except for some reason it bothered the shit out of him.

And when the guy stood to leave she hugged him, he kissed her cheek and they smiled at each other. Daryl Dixon felt just the slightest twinge of something. And after trying real hard to deny it, he finally admitted to himself what it was, he was a little jealous.

When Aaron left she walked into Daryl's storefront to let Tara know she was all moved in, "I'm so excited Tara, I mean sure I'm a nervous wreck and scared out of my mind, but darn I'm excited. This studio and shop have been my dream for so long."

"Good for you Beth, there's no time like the present to follow a dream. Myself, I don't have one speck of artistic ability. Daryl and I have talked about my extreme lack of artistic talent over good wine many, many times. But that's not what I'm here for anyway, he's the talent and I'm the one with the sales and business savvy. Together we make a pretty great team."

Beth went with it, later she might beat herself up for asking, but it didn't seem to bother Tara one bit. "So you and Daryl are 'together', huh?"

Tara had laughed, "Oh God no that's never going to happen. He's not my type at all; my type is my girlfriend Denise."

Beth couldn't help laughing at her own faux pas, "I'm so, so sorry I should never have asked that, it's not any of my business. I promise I'm not usually so nosey." Then she got an idea, "Why don't you come over when you close up here, you can see my place and we'll drink some wine."

"I'd love that. I can be over about six thirty I just have some bookwork to catch up on."

Although he couldn't quite her the conversation, he'd heard her out there in his shop. She did have a really nice voice, but damn everything about that woman was nice. That was the problem. When he heard the little bell chime as she left, he walked out to the storefront and tried to look disinterested as he asked, "Was someone here?"

Tara gave him that knowing look, "Don't try that crap with me Daryl Dixon you know exactly who was here, and I've got news for you buster, you and I are paying a visit over there at 6:30. Go get one of those pricey bottles of wine you have stashed upstairs and we'll take it over to her."

"Nah I ain't goin' she don't want me there n I don't wanna go."

"Oh stop you do too, don't try your 'I'm a reclusive and temperamental artist' crap on me. We're going."

He opened his mouth to protest but he didn't know what the hell to say, and the truth was he did want to see her place. And again he was honest with himself, he wanted to see her.

He did what Tara told him and went up to his place, he got in the wine cellar and chose a nice bottle of Cabernet, and then he grabbed a second bottle. One bottle for all of them to share, and one for her as a "welcome to the building" gift.

Back when he'd first been breaking into the "art scene" his friend Rick had convinced him he needed to learn about wine, because that's what art snobs drank. Rick would know that because over the years he'd become kind of an art snob, in fact he was responsible for Daryl's initial success. He'd been influential in getting some of his carvings shown to the "right" people. Before he knew what hit him Daryl Dixon had become kind of a big deal.

He was truly grateful for his success, grateful he didn't have to worry about money and that he could mostly focus on the things he liked doing.

But he hated all the trappings of his success, well except the wine. He did like the wine.

And he was hoping Beth Greene liked the wine.

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A/N Thanks for taking the time this new story. I'd appreciate hearing your thoughts so please review / comment. Thanks again, x gneebee

To see a photo of the Wood Sculptor and the Painter please visit my tumblr bethylmethbrick. This story will post weekly on Thursdays. Please follow to be sure you get updates on this and all my stories. As always, I love ya large! xo gneebee