Bayside Romance (Bayside Summers)

by Melissa Foster

  “Wow, it looks like he emptied his garage over here.” Harper pulled him toward a booth with boxes of old records, tools, books, and a plethora of other miscellaneous items mixed in with furniture and Oriental rugs.

  An older man with thin gray hair and skin like leather said “Howdy” as they approached. He sat in a folding chair with a scruffy dog at his feet.

  “Hi,” Harper said as she blazed a path around boxes toward whatever she’d spotted. “Gavin, look.” She pointed to two decorative wooden plaques. A rustic chain with a mason jar hung from a large fishing hook at the top of each one. “You know those string lights they sell at the Christmas Store in Orleans? You could put those in the jars, and they’d go perfectly in your bedroom or even your living room, don’t you think?” Her eyes brimmed with excitement. “You know what? You could get a bunch of mason jars and use solar string lights along the path down to the dock at night.”

  Her reached for her and said, “Aren’t I supposed to be the designer?”

  “I’m sorry. Do you hate that idea? It is too cheesy?”

  “No, babe. I was only teasing. I love the plaques, and I love your idea of lining the path to the dock.” He put his arms around her and said, “I know I said I hadn’t decorated because I wanted the house to be comfortable, and I did. But what I didn’t realize until the last few weeks was that it always felt like something was missing. I think that something was you.”

  She went up on her toes and touched her lips to his in the sweetest kiss. “Maybe we were both missing something in our lives.”

  “If I have my way, you’ll never miss a thing ever again.”

  “Careful making promises you can’t keep,” she said. “Let’s see if we can find some cool vinyl records. What’s your favorite genre?”

  “Classic rock, of course.”

  “I can’t wait to hear your collection,” she said as they looked through a box of records. “We should unpack them. Are there any records you wish you could find? Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  “I already got lucky.” He leaned in for another kiss and said, “Because you’re right here by my side.”

  “Charmer,” she said with a sexy smile.

  “Only for you, Harp.” Gavin paid for the plaques, and then he patted her butt and said, “Okay, girlie. Let’s hunt for the impossible, a limited-edition pink-vinyl pressing of Pink Floyd’s Animals.”

  “Pink vinyl? They made those?”

  “Pretty cool, huh?” He took her hand and they went in search of the album.

  They hit every record vendor and came up empty, except for the fun they had, which was better than any damn album anyway. They stopped along the way to leaf through paperbacks and check out crafts and clothing. They bought two jars of jam from Leanna and visited with her until she got swamped with customers. Then they went to the snack building and bought burgers, which they ate in the beer garden as the clouds rolled in.

  On the way back to Gavin’s house, they stopped at an antiques store. Harper found an old-fashioned fishing pole that had been repurposed. She thought it would also be perfect for his house. It had been formed into an arch with jute threaded through it instead of fishing line. Four picture frames hung from lines of jute attached to each of the tiny metal guides along the rod, and two decorative lures hung from the tip of the rod.

  By the time they got home, the ominous dark sky opened up. They ran inside with their flowers and purchases, and Harper confiscated another of Gavin’s sweatshirts.

  As sheets of rain pummeled the patio, Harper flitted around his living room in her sexy little shorts and his sweatshirt, pointing out different places where they could hang the decorations. He was a sought-after designer with years of experience, and yet it had taken this incredible woman who thought she couldn’t trust her instincts and didn’t seem to mind, or notice, that she didn’t have her own proper workspace to start turning his house into a home.

  Chapter Thirteen

  IT RAINED ALL night and into Sunday morning, which suited Harper just fine. Last night they’d opened the windows in the living room while they were eating pizza and binge-watching movies. They’d cuddled, and kissed, and when they’d finally gone to bed, they’d opened the bedroom windows, too. Harper found rainfall soothing. Not that she had any nervous energy left to soothe after the way Gavin had worshipped and loved every inch of her. They’d made love and talked into the wee hours of the morning, falling into comfortable silences broken only by the sound of the rain.

  It was perfect.

  And she was beginning to think Gavin was, too. She wasn’t fooling herself into thinking he was some type of superhuman without flaws. He cursed when the remote control didn’t work, he left the toothpaste uncapped, which was one of her pet peeves, and he was still nagging her about allowing him to read her script. She was sure he had plenty of other flaws she had yet to discover, but so did she. Didn’t everyone? More importantly, she loved the way he listened and how openly he shared everything about himself. Last night he told her all about the clients he was working with and the projects he hoped to pitch after the summer. It was easy to see why he and Serena worked so well together. They were both meticulous and committed to ensuring their clients got the best service and the best designs, while protecting their bottom line without cutting corners.

  She watched him now as he moved around the kitchen making coffee. His hair was still damp from their shower, and his jeans hung low around his hips, molding to his perfect rear end. In the shower she’d noticed that she’d left nail marks in the cheeks of that perfect rear end from holding on so tight. When she pointed them out, Gavin stood taller, wearing them proudly, as if they were medals.

  He turned with a steaming mug in his hand and a sexy smile on his lips. She wished it would rain for weeks and flood the roads. Then they’d have an excuse to stay hidden away and she wouldn’t have to think about whether they were moving too fast. They could just be.

  “You look deep in thought. What’s going on in that brilliant mind of yours?” Gavin set the mug down in front of her.

  “Just thinking about how much I like being with you.” And how I want more of it.

  “That’s a good thing since you already agreed to stay here tonight, and in my world, there are no takebacks.” He leaned across the counter and kissed her. “Want to go get a week’s worth of clothes from your place and promise me more nights you can’t take back?”

  “How can you charm and push at the same time?” And why is it so devastatingly appealing?

  Probably because he’d read her mind and said exactly what she wanted to do.

  He came around the counter and put his hands on her thighs. The heated look in his eyes made her stomach flutter. “You’re wearing my favorite T-shirt and red lace panties beneath these skimpy shorts. I think it’s you who is using her charms and silently pushing all of my buttons. You know what it does to me when you look at me with that dreamy expression and the sweet smile that reeled me in the very first time I saw it.”

  He pulled her to the edge of the stool and against him in one swift move. His lips swooped down, claiming hers. His tongue swept over hers, intoxicatingly slowly, lulling her deeper into him. He made a low, greedy sound, and she answered it with one of her own.

  “I like seeing you in my house,” he said against her lips.

  “I like being here.”

  He pressed his palm to her cheek, brushing his thumb over her skin. She leaned into his touch as he said, “I love having you in my bed.” His eyes turned serious, and the corner of his mouth tipped up. “And if I don’t step away from you to make you breakfast, I’m going to get even pushier.”

  “You make me want you to be pushy.”

  He gave her a chaste kiss. “Want and need are two different things, sweetheart. We’ve got nothing but time. At least that’s what I’m telling myself to keep from locking you in my bedroom twenty-four-seven.” He walked back into the kitchen. “What’s on your article agenda this week?”


  “Lots of fun stuff,” she said, thinking of the email she’d received earlier from her boss. “Wednesday afternoon I have a children’s play to review. I’m thinking of asking Jana to go with me since it’s at a time when she’s not teaching dance. I’m covering a book signing in Brewster Thursday, and next week there’s a Humane Society event I’m excited about. Who doesn’t love puppies and kitties?”

  “So I shouldn’t be surprised if you come home with a new pet?”

  “I don’t have space for a pet. Can you imagine a puppy creating havoc with my papers spread all over?”

  He sipped his coffee. “Sounds like you’re enjoying going back to your roots after all.”

  “I’m actually having a lot of fun with it, and I have you to thank. If I hadn’t found my groove with the new script, I probably wouldn’t enjoy writing the articles so much.”

  “All I did was make a suggestion. The rest is all you, babe.” He walked over to the pantry and said, “Ready for your very first Wheeler Special?”

  “I thought I had my first Wheeler Special in Virginia,” she teased, knowing he was referring to his father’s famous spinach omelets with a special sauce and homemade croissants.

  He chuckled and began setting ingredients on the counter. “Smart-ass. This breakfast will blow you away.”

  She didn’t need breakfast for that. He’d already blown her away with his encouragement, his humor, and the way he made her feel sexy, feminine, and adored, bedhead and all.

  “It’s going to take me a little time to cook breakfast, so make yourself at home while the master chef takes control.”

  “If you’re as good in the kitchen as you are in the bedroom, I might be in trouble.”

  She blew him a kiss and wandered over to the bookshelves to check out the titles. Among the books she found a small framed picture of Gavin standing next to his father. Gavin was all elbows and knees. He couldn’t have been older than eight or nine. He wore shorts and no shirt. His shaggy hair hung over his eyes, and he was beaming at the camera, holding a fishing pole with a fish dangling off a hook. His father was smiling proudly, one arm around Gavin. His father had darker hair than Gavin, but he had the same smile, the same cut of his jaw.

  Her heart hurt thinking about the years he and his family had lost because of a girl. She was glad they’d recovered from the rift, but she wished she could have been around then to help him find his way back to his family sooner, the same way he’d helped her see past her own issues.

  She grabbed her messenger bag and the blanket they’d used last night from the couch and headed for the sunroom to get some work done. She set her bag on the floor, once again hit by the beauty of the spacious room. She spread the blanket out in the middle of the floor, and then she retrieved the vase of flowers from her garden and put it on the floor by the blanket. She opened all the windows to let the sound of the rain trickle in, and then she began laying out her papers and turned on her laptop. But the room still felt empty.

  She went back to the bookcase for the picture of Gavin and his father, placed it by the flowers in the sunroom, and happily settled into her work.

  WHEN GAVIN FINISHED cooking breakfast, he found Harper sitting cross-legged on a blanket in the middle of the sunroom with a stack of papers in her lap and a red pen tucked behind her ear, engrossed in reading over her work. She’d twisted her hair into a knot on the top of her head. A few sexy tendrils framed her face. Papers were strewn out across the floor, as they had been in her cottage, and the flowers they’d picked brightened the room in a vase beside her laptop. He glanced over his shoulder at the fishing-rod frames they’d hung over the fireplace. He still needed to figure out what pictures to put in them, but even without them, it added a homey touch to the room. They’d hung the mason jar plaques in the bedroom on either side of the bed. Even those small touches made his house feel more like a home. And now here she was, enjoying the room he’d spent almost a year ignoring. He took a moment to admire the woman who had made every aspect of his life better. In the span of a couple weeks, she’d woken parts of him that had been asleep for far too long.

  He touched Harper’s shoulder, startling her. “Sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to startle you, but that’s a good sign. If you’re that into your writing, it has to be good.”

  “I think it is,” she said confidently.

  “That’s great. Does that mean I can read it?”

  She looked down at the papers in her lap, her fingers curling possessively over the edges. “They’re not as rough as I thought they were. You can read it if you promise to be honest.”

  He chuckled. “As I recall, last time I was too honest.”

  “Maybe cushion it this time if it’s really bad, or soften the blow with a kiss. I need you to be too honest. It’s hard to tell if I think it’s good because my last story was so bad, or because it’s really good writing.”

  “Okay.” He made an X over his heart. “One hundred percent honesty coming up, softened with a kiss if need be. But first, breakfast is ready. How about if I bring it in here? I like what you’ve done to the space, by the way.”

  She wrinkled her nose and said, “Are you sure you don’t mind? I didn’t mean to take over. I just love this room.”

  “And I love seeing you in it.”

  He gave her a quick kiss and went to get breakfast. When he returned with a tray of food, she’d cleared a space for him beside her.

  “Mm. It looks and smells delicious. Who do I have to thank for your mad cooking skills? Mom or Dad?”

  He handed her a plate and said, “Both.” As he sat down, he noticed a picture of him and his father near the flowers. He set his plate beside the blanket and picked up the picture, warmed by the memory of when it was taken. “Now you’re confiscating my pictures as well as my clothes?”

  “Didn’t I tell you I was a kleptomaniac?” She laughed softly. “It felt empty in here, and I was lonely, so I brought you and your dad in to keep me company.”

  He loved the way she made herself at home, but what he liked even more was the way she was looking at him, with the same confidence she’d had when they’d first met.

  “I remember when this picture was taken,” he said. “It was a great fishing trip, and Beckett missed it. I tried to wake him up to come with us at sunrise, but he sleeps like the dead. I couldn’t get him out of bed. When we got home that evening, Beckett snubbed me for hours.”

  “Jana used to hate it when I’d get to do something she didn’t. But she wasn’t a snubber. She’d holler and stomp around, letting everyone in a ten-mile radius know she was pissed.” She took a bite of her omelet. “Mm, Gavin. You are definitely as good in the kitchen as you are in the bedroom.”

  “You should see me in the sunroom,” he said flirtatiously.

  She bumped him with her shoulder. “I can’t wait to find out. But first I need to eat this insanely good food my boyfriend slaved over.”

  “And I need to read your story. Where do I start?”

  She set down her plate and went around the room gathering papers. “I really think this was the right direction for me, using my bad dates and losing the show. You’ll see that my heroine is basically me, a woman who moved across the country to follow her dream, and then her life falls apart.” She handed him a stack of papers.

  “What about the part where she meets the handsome, awesome guy who she can’t live without?”

  “I’m not at that point in the story yet. I’m not sure it’s going to be that easy for her,” Harper said as she sat beside him. “I think this is perfect for a long series. I want to talk to Chloe and some of the other girls about their bad dating experiences and try to use them in the story. Maybe she meets the guy and thinks it could be right, but then things keep happening that make them go back and forth between friends and lovers.”

  “I don’t like that idea in real life, sweetheart.”

  “Because we’re not a romantic comedy. The last thing I want is to go through a hundred more bad dates, or fin
d you kissing some other woman and have to castrate you.” She popped another bite of egg into her mouth.

  “Ouch!”

  “You know what I mean. Who has time for that kind of heartache?” Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t have another woman in the wings, do you?”

  “Nope. I’m not an asshole. And I’m glad you’re not looking for more dates.”

  “I just found you. Do you really think I’m dumb enough to take out the hook and toss you back in the water?” She pushed to her feet and said, “Now I’m full of nervous energy. I’m going to get some jam for the croissants. Do you want anything?”

  “No, thanks.”

  She left the room with a bounce in her step, similar to the quickening beat of his heart.

  He turned his attention to the story as he ate.

  When Harper returned, she fidgeted nervously, stealing glances at him as he read. After they finished eating, she told him to keep reading and went to wash the dishes.

  She never came back.

  When he was done, he found her pacing the living room, biting her nails.

  She stopped cold at the sight of him. “Well? Does it suck? Is it okay? I know I have scenes to flesh out, and—”

  Her words were lost in the press of his lips. “Remember what I said about writing for the WHAT Theater?”

  “Yes.”

  “Forget it.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “It’s that bad?”

  “No, babe. It’s that good. The local theater is too small for this. You need to finish it and get it out to whoever got you your last deal, because it’s fucking hilarious. I mean, I feel horrible for the girl, but women are going to eat this up.”

  She squealed and threw her arms around his neck. “I’m so happy!” She pushed away, and her smile morphed into a worried frown. “What about guys? Marketability has to be there for the widest audience possible.”