by Bella Andre
She looked slightly uneasy as he approached. “Sorry about this, Trent. I know you try to take the weekends off, but he didn’t want to wait until Monday.”
“No problem, Darla.” But as the words left his lips, he realized that it actually was a problem. What if he’d been with Reese when the phone call had come? Would he have raced off to meet Chandler? Heck, he should be out there with her right now, keeping her company while she painted, enjoying watching her work on something she was so passionate about.
“Trent.” Chandler’s deep voice greeted him. “Have a seat.” Wearing a white shirt and striped tie, with his frail shoulders pulled up high beneath his ears, Chandler was dressed as he was every day of the week.
Trent wondered if there was ever a time of day when he let his guard down, and it made him sad to think that his grandfather was always this uptight, or miserable.
“Good afternoon, Grandfather.” He smiled at Didi as he sat down, wondering how she managed to stay sane, keeping up with Chandler’s gruff demeanor without ever looking tired or disgruntled, especially when her workweek wasn’t just Monday through Friday. Chandler was clearly more than a full-time proposition. Only someone as strong as Didi could put up with him.
“It’s nice to see you, Didi,” he said to her. But as Trent sat before his grandfather on Sunday afternoon, he wondered again what the hell he was doing there. Just because he’d agreed to take over running the resort with his brothers and father didn’t mean he’d agreed to give his grandfather his entire life.
“Is the paperwork for the deed transfer complete?” Chandler’s eyes never wavered from Trent’s. His tone was cold, businesslike.
Wouldn’t it be nice, just once, to hear his grandfather ask how he was doing or how he liked running the resort? But that wasn’t Chandler’s style. Chandler was all business all the time, and it made for tiresome conversations.
“I’m waiting on finalization of one document. I’ll make an appointment with the notary and bring it up for signature Tuesday morning before filing it with the county.”
Chandler nodded. “Very well,” he said in a dismissive tone.
“Is that all you needed?” Trent couldn’t keep the disbelief from his voice at his grandfather’s gall, calling him in to the resort on a weekend for one question that could have easily been handled over the phone.
When Chandler nodded, Trent nearly opened his mouth to say that they could have accomplished that in a phone call or e-mail rather than a face-to-face meeting. But he’d always gone out of his way to be cool-headed and even-tempered with his grandfather, so instead of laying into him, he turned and headed for the door.
“Is it true that you and that Nicholson girl are seeing each other again?”
Chandler’s question stopped Trent in his tracks. He clenched his jaw and reminded himself that Chandler wasn’t specifically being rude to Reese. He was rude in general.
“Her name is Reese, and yes, we are seeing each other again.”
But Trent was no longer interested in fighting the urge to lay into his grandfather. Work was one thing, but he was way the hell off base if he was going to insult the woman Trent loved.
But before Trent could say another word, Chandler grumbled, “’Bout damn time,” leaving Trent too stunned to reply at all before Didi wheeled his grandfather away.
* * *
BY THE TIME the sun began its slow descent from the sky, casting a grayish hue over the resort, the right side of the mural was beginning to take shape. Deep brown mulch edged a grassy knoll surrounding billowing gardens, which gave way to the aged walls and peaked roof of a bay-side cottage. Reese stood on a ladder painting an umbrella of leaves in shades of green and yellow in the rear of the garden. A few more hours and the trees would be done. She’d been so consumed with the mural that every stroke of the brush felt like it was coming straight from her heart as she poured her love of the island, and in turn, her love for Trent, into her work.
She painted the yellow flowers at the base of the mural, remembering the afternoon of her wedding when Trent had picked the same flower for her. They’d dreamed of one day having a cottage of their own and a gaggle of children who would play in the yard and skip along the beach. She dipped her brush in the paint and moved to deeper shades of green, remembering how Trent had planned to teach their children to sail and play ball, and she had planned to carry on her mother’s Sunday-morning breakfast tradition. She’d wanted to teach their children to appreciate art while Trent instilled a joy of reading. But they hadn’t stayed together long enough to have a cottage or a family.
Her heart squeezed as she stepped from the ladder and rounded out a flower bed, adding touches of the sun’s glare to the leaves. She could practically feel Trent with her now, sharing her memories as she crouched at the base of the mural.
“Reese…this is incredible.”
She turned at the sound of Trent’s voice, thinking it was in her head, and started at the sight of him. Would she ever get used to how handsome he was or the way hearing his voice made her spirits soar? He’d changed clothes since she’d seen him earlier, and in a pair of linen pants and a white cotton shirt, he had the carefree appeal of the island-loving guy she’d fallen in love with. Tucked in his right arm was a bag from the Hideaway. His smile widened as he looked over the mural.
“I was a little worried that it was too much, with all the different colors and textures. It’s not too overwhelming?”
He stepped closer and kissed her. “No. It’s passionate and beautiful, and it looks so real we’ll have to keep people from walking into the wall thinking it’s a garden.”
“You’re sweet.” Both his compliments and his lips.
“I’m honest.” He kissed her again, lingering a little longer this time. “I brought dinner. I thought we could have a picnic on the beach.”
“A picnic on the beach sounds wonderful, but I’m still totally in the zone right now.” She waved to her paints, spread along the ground at her feet. “I just need a little more time to work tonight.”
“Of course. Whatever you need. I’ll leave this here in case you get hungry, and I’ll head over to Shelley’s to get a jump on the work I need to do.” Trent left the bag on the grass and kissed her before heading for the parking lot.
She immediately turned back to the mural, adding a few extra touches to the flower bed. Even taking that sixty-second break gave her a fresh perspective when she assessed the mural and she suddenly saw a dozen things she wanted to add and a half-dozen other small changes she wanted to make.
She’d just launched into the next phase of the mural, when a breeze swept over the hill from the bay and made her shiver. At last she noticed the darkening of the sky as daylight fell away and evening crept in.
That was when it suddenly hit her: What did I do?
She scrambled along the ground, packing up her supplies and tossing her wet paintbrushes into an empty paint can. She’d clean them after she apologized. Trent had made an effort to be romantic and spend time with her, and she’d chosen to stay and work?
How could she have been so stupid and so rude? Especially after complaining about him brushing her off for work all those years ago.
She tried not to speed up the road toward the old mill, but the idea of hurting Trent the way she’d been hurt burned like acid in her belly.
Five minutes later, Reese threw the car into park and raced up the hill toward Shelley’s Café. She pushed through the bushes, stumbling as she ran across the front lawn and burst through the front door.
“Trent!”
He dropped his tools, his brows furrowed as he opened his arms, and she ran into them.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry! I should have stopped painting. I didn’t mean to blow you off.”
“Reese, what are you talking about? You found your groove. I completely understand.”
She pulled back enough to search his eyes and knew he really did understand. “You don’t think I was
a jerk? Because I think it was pretty jerky not to gush over an impromptu picnic dinner with the man I love.”
“Of course you weren’t a jer—” He paused. “Wait. Say that again.”
“I think I was a—”
He pulled her in closer. “No. The last part.”
Reese thought back to what she’d said. She hadn’t realized that she’d said the man I love aloud, but she could see in Trent’s eyes that he loved hearing it. Was it too fast? Was she too trusting?
But when she gazed into Trent’s eyes, she knew she’d spoken the truth.
“I love you, Trent.” It felt freeing—and scary—not just to admit it to herself, but to say it aloud.
“I love you, too, Dandelion. So much.” He kissed her softly.
“But—”
He pressed his finger to her lips. “I know we have a ways to go before we’re back on solid footing. I know we have lots more steps to take together. But tonight, just knowing we still love each other...it means everything to me, Reese.”
Reese twined her arms around his neck. “You’re so unfair. Everything you say makes me fall a little harder.”
“I don’t see the problem.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “But I know how important communication is in our relationship, so let me answer your earlier question. You weren’t being a jerk. But if you ever are, I won’t hesitate to tell you. And I want you to tell me, too.” He lifted her into his arms and guided her legs around his waist. “But not in a note. Face-to-face communication from here on out.”
She brushed her lips over his. “Face-to-face. Always. And thank you for giving me wiggle room to screw up and then get it right again.” Even if Trent didn’t feel like she’d messed up as badly as she thought she had, she felt a lot better knowing she’d taken responsibility for the way she’d slighted his offer—and even more secure in their relationship, knowing that they could talk things through. In owning the bad and the good, they were building an even stronger foundation.
“Wiggle room. I like the sound of that...especially the wiggle part,” he said before sealing his lips over hers.
It felt so good, so right, to be in his arms again. She melted against him as he deepened the kiss, and she gathered the back of his shirt in her hands, pulling it up so she could feel his skin. A moan escaped his lungs as he cupped her rear.
“Shelley might—” she managed before kissing him again.
“—walk in,” Trent agreed, taking her in another toe-curling kiss.
“Good thing my gallery is right across the street, isn’t it?”
She laughed with surprise as he lifted her up into his arms. “I can walk.”
He silenced her protests with a kiss. And the truth was that it was incredibly romantic to be carried out beneath the stars…and then over the threshold of her gallery.
“Trent,” she said softly once they were inside. “This reminds me of…”
Her heart got caught in her throat, and she couldn’t finish. But she could see from looking into his eyes that he was remembering the same thing. “You’re even more beautiful now than you were on our wedding night.”
“So are you.”
For a long moment, they simply held on to each other as memories slowly transformed into a love that was new and fresh and wonderful.
And then she smiled at him and said, “I have a couch in the back room.”
His answering grin was so full of sensuality that it made her heart pound with renewed heat. He moved quickly through her gallery, and the next thing she knew, she was naked and lying beneath him, his fingers threaded through hers, his wonderfully heavy body pressing hers into the leather cushions.
“I love you,” she said again.
There wasn’t just intense heat in his eyes as he moved into her, but there was emotion, too. So much emotion that she felt his love in every thrust of his body into hers. In every brush of his lips over her skin. In the tightening of his fingers over hers.
And, most of all, in the beating of his heart against hers as they found pleasure unlike any other in each other’s arms.
Chapter Twenty-One
BY NOON THE next day, Trent still couldn’t stop wishing he was back in Reese’s bed, holding her in his arms. Last night, they’d made love in her gallery and then gone back to the mural to pick up and clean her painting supplies, she’d invited him back to her house again. They’d tumbled into bed as hungry for each other as ever, and when they’d woken up this morning, Reese was so inspired to paint that after seducing him yet again, she’d leapt out of bed and taken off to chase her muse.
He slid the vase of heliotrope he’d picked for Reese while he was out running closer on his desk and inhaled the scent of the flowers, anxious to give the pretty purple blooms to her. Heliotrope symbolized eternal love, and when he and Reese were first dating, they used to pick them at their favorite overlook and make promises to each other. Silly promises, like I promise never to shrink your favorite shirts, or, I promise to make sure you never run out of azul-blue paint.
All he’d wanted was to be with Reese again. But what he hadn’t realized was that it would be a hundred times better the second time around, simply because they were finally starting to communicate. If only Trent had realized that they weren’t communicating ten years ago. Now he saw it all so clearly, and it made him want that clarity in all aspects of their relationship, which included talking with Reese’s parents as soon as possible. They needed to know that he not only had never stopped loving their daughter, but also that he was going to keep loving Reese every second of every day for the rest of his life.
He picked up the paperwork for the deed transfer and headed up to Chandler’s office for their meeting, thinking about how he was feeling more and more like the man he wanted to be. A man he and Reese could both be proud of.
Chandler’s thin lips curved into a smile as Trent entered his office. He smiled so rarely that Trent was taken by surprise.
The smile tugged at a memory he’d long ago forgotten, from back when Chandler still lived in the home he and Caroline, Trent’s grandmother, had shared. Chandler had been watching Trent and Caroline playing a board game beneath an umbrella at a table on the deck. And as his grandfather gazed at his grandmother, his eyes had warmed, and he’d smiled in the same way he was now. Trent couldn’t have been older than eight or nine, but he still remembered being struck by that undeniable look of love on his grandfather’s face.
As he stood across the desk from Chandler now, he found himself wondering how thick—or thin—the sheet of ice his grandfather wore like armor really was.
“Trent, did you bring me the paperwork?”
“Yes, as well as the extra copies you asked for.” Trent handed him the documents and smiled at his grandfather’s nurse. “How are you today, Didi?”
“I’m well, thank you.” Her long blond hair cascaded over her shoulders. She wore a tan dress that stopped just above her knees and was belted around her slim waist. She looked regal standing beside Chandler as she put a hand on his shoulder. She did that often—checking in with his grandfather without saying a word—and Trent noticed that his grandfather’s eyes momentarily softened as he looked up at her before returning to the documents and narrowing once again.
“Your message said not to bring the notary to your office. Is there an issue you’d like to discuss?” Trent asked.
“No. No issue. I’ll see to it that the proper documentation is filed.” Chandler set the paperwork on the desk and met Trent’s gaze. “Thank you for putting this documentation together, Trent. I appreciate your efforts.”
Trent was knocked off-balance for the second time in five minutes. Chandler hadn’t thanked Trent once since he and his siblings had taken over the resort. In fact, in two months’ time, he’d received nothing more than snarls and commands from his grandfather.
“You’re welcome,” Trent finally managed as Chandler gripped the arms of his wheelchair and shifted his attention back down to the paperwork on his
desk.
When Chandler slipped right back into his tight-lipped persona and didn’t lift his eyes again as Trent took a step toward the door, he wondered if he’d imagined the entire exchange. For a brief moment, he could have sworn they’d really connected.
Damn it, he thought as he stopped and turned back to face his grandfather, they were going to connect this afternoon whether Chandler wanted to or not. He’d told Reese that he wanted his family to know they were back together—and suddenly, the person he most needed to know was his grandfather.
“I’d like to thank you, too, Grandfather.”
“For what?” His grandfather looked as surprised as Trent knew he’d looked just seconds ago, when Chandler had thanked him.
“I may not have ever moved back to the island if it weren’t for you. Thank you for opening that door. You managed to help me see what was really important,” Trent continued, “and to get my priorities straight. I should have never let Reese go. I should have fought for her with everything I had. I wish I’d been able to see it sooner, but thankfully, it’s not too late, because she and I are together again now. And I’m going to get it right this time, no matter what it takes.”
As he bent to hug his grandfather, Trent noticed Didi’s eyes were damp. And then, for the first time in as many years as he could remember, Chandler’s frail arms encircled him in an answering hug.
“I’m proud of you, Trent,” Chandler said.
Trent froze, blinking his damp eyes.
“Go on,” Chandler grumbled a moment later, though the glassy sheen of his own eyes gave him away. “I have work to do.”
As Trent left Chandler’s office, he gave silent thanks that it had turned out his grandfather didn’t have a heart of stone after all. It truly gave Trent more hope than anything else ever would.
Still reeling, Trent stopped by his office to pick up the flowers for Reese. A few minutes later, he found her working on the mural. She was talking with a woman and a little dark-haired boy who couldn’t have been older than three or four, with big blue eyes and a mop of dark hair. The little boy tried to touch the wet paint, and Reese crouched beside him and smiled.