by Isla Dean
“Sex has done no such thing. Well, maybe. I’ll have to think about that. But for now, I’m almost finished with this so yes, come look. What do you think?”
Donatella slapped a hand against her bosom and sucked in a slow gasp. “Oh, this is… Villa Blue has never been more beautiful. There is life in here, life all throughout. You can feel it pulsing. Vivo.”
“Yes,” Ivy said, eyes brightening. “That’s what I’ll call it. Vivo. Perfect.”
“It is perfect. Your work, it has changed from when you arrived here.”
“It has, hasn’t it? I was looking through pictures on my website that I posted of paintings I did when I first moved here and I saw it too. It’s like I’ve become more of me, and my paintings have become more of me too.” Ivy looked at Donatella. “Thank you for noticing. It means the world to me.”
“You’ve found your heart, your paintings show it. It’s evidente.”
Ivy beamed, speechless, then cleared her throat before she was swamped by any more emotion. The fallout with her mother had provided enough of that. And it struck her that being understood—by Aiden, by Donatella—warmed her from the inside out and in ways she’d never expected.
“So what brings you out here? The view of those three? And yes, I know you well enough to know what view you prefer,” Ivy told her conspiratorially, shifting gears to keep from letting loose a tear or two. Or three, she thought, wondering how she’d gotten lucky enough to know and adore Donatella.
“The view of their backsides, preferably.” Donatella let out a luscious sigh. “And those three have backsides that would send any woman’s lashes aflutter. But no, I’m out here because I can’t sit still. I have a check in my pocket worth more money than I’ve ever held in my hands. And I have three handsome men on my veranda working to save Parpadeo even though a week ago I barely knew it needed saving. Fast rumors, big money, and contracts constructed to be confusing.” She waved the white towel through the air in surrender. “I give up. It’s my time to retire, bella. And I’m ready for it.
“But I worry, I do, that if their father is part of it, that he will turn this place into something opulento and unfriendly. I’m sure it would be beautiful, but it’s been my home for decades. Maybe it’s selfish of me to want it to be home for people who care for it with their heart as I have.
“Ivy, I want so much for you to have it. You love it like I do, more than my niece and nephews, but I can’t afford to just give it to you. Know that I wish that I could.”
“Oh,” Ivy took a small step back to get perspective. “I’m…flattered. No, that’s wrong. I’m stunned. You mean everything to me, Donatella. You were here for me from the beginning when I arrived. But I can’t run this place. I don’t have it in me to run an Inn.”
“You have art in you.”
Ivy wanted to kiss Donatella so she did, a quick peck on the cheek.
“What was that for, bellissima?”
“For understanding so easily. For understanding me.”
“Then help me understand something else,” Donatella said as she heartily rubbed her hand on Ivy’s back. “Why haven’t you told me how you feel about him?”
“About Aiden?”
“Unless you’re having sex with the other brothers as well—in which case, I bow to you—yes, Aiden.”
Ivy chuckled as she glanced over to where Aiden leaned against the side of an archway, looking out in the distance as he talked on his phone.
“Aiden and I haven’t discussed anything like that. We also haven’t discussed what would happen to me and my studio if he and his brothers buy Villa Blue. We haven’t really discussed us. If there is an us. I don’t really know. Plus, you were the one who told me to just have sex with him and not get involved.”
“Women get messy when they’re in love. But you, you’re not messy. I see you two together everyday, see the way you are together. Why would there not be an us?”
“I don’t know.” Ivy pinched her shoulders up in a shrug. “I suppose I’ve been so focused in the moment, so focused on my gallery show, that I haven’t really wanted to worry about anything beyond that. And…” She let out a terse breath. “To be honest, I don’t want to lose myself in anything other than my art right now. This sounds crazy, but it scares me a little, thinking about making plans with a man. I feel so good being just me.”
Ivy wanted to add that she didn’t want to be like her mother, setting aside her desires because of a man, a family, but the words didn’t come because they would’ve been false. She was the opposite of her mother in some ways, but exactly like her mother in others. As she’d painted her way through her feelings, she’d come to understand that their commonality was their courage and drive to do what they knew to be right.
“You know what I say?” Donatella tossed the towel over her shoulder.
“What do you say?”
“I say this: If it feels good to make plans, then make plans. If it feels more good to not make plans, then make no plans.” Donatella’s face moved through a multitude of gestures as she spoke.
“That’s what you say, huh?”
“It applies to anything, really.” Now she motioned with her hands to a rhythm as she spoke. “If it feels good to make fettuccine, make fettuccine. If it feels more good not to make fettuccine, make no fettuccine. Find what feels good and do that. And if those around you are hungry because you didn’t feel like making fettuccine, then oh well. They make toast. Everyone knows how to make toast.”
Ivy watched Donatella’s motions and mannerisms then laughed, full and round. “You’re one of my favorite people in the world.”
“Same goes. Want some fettuccine for dinner? Suddenly it’s sounding good.”
“Sounds great. I’ll let the boys know.”
“You’re busy.” Donatella fluttered her hand through the air. “I’ll tell them,” she said as she sauntered off, leaving Ivy laughing in the breeze.
“Ivy?”
“Shower! Come on in!”
Aiden decided that was the best thing he’d heard all day.
“Stop right there,” Ivy announced, seeing his shadow through the shower curtain. “I told Donatella I’d help her with dinner. We’ll play later.”
“You’re going to make me watch you take a shower? You know that’s a certified form of torture, right?” Aiden told her as he leaned against the pedestal sink and watched the silhouette of her body move through a myriad of motions under a stream of water.
She slid the curtain aside just enough to poke out her soapy, smiling face. “That’s just a side benefit.”
Gliding the curtain back into place and standing under the spray of warmth, she kept talking. “How’d it go today?”
“Pretty well,” he told her, imagining sudsy bubbles slinking down her petite figure. “Pretty damn well, actually. Our offer on the last piece of real estate in the center of town was accepted.”
She pulled the curtain back again, peeked out. “You’re kidding. The three of you are buying almost a whole town. Who does such a thing? I’m excited for you. And the town.” She closed the curtain and, as she thought about what it all meant, she lathered up her right leg to shave. “What about Villa Blue?”
While he hadn’t been terribly happy about the curtain between them when he’d arrived, he was glad for it now. “Don’t know yet. My father won’t take my calls but since he can’t fire all three of us at the same time without making a mess of things, he’s still talking to Emmett and Logan. He said he’d hear us out. We’re going to propose we all go in together on the properties in town. As much as I was hoping we could do this on our own without him, his participation could alleviate some of the pressure. We’re going to ask him to put the money he offered Donatella toward the town project. Then Logan, Emmett, and I will make an offer on Villa Blue with money we would otherwise have to put toward the town.”
“What if your father says no?”
“We’ll figure out a way to get a yes.”
“O
f course you will. Well, that really is quite a day. You guys move fast. The three of you have that much money?”
“Is there any other speed? And we have our inheritances from when we each turned eighteen. None of us have really spent much of it except for school and some income properties in New York, but nothing major.”
She finished shaving the first leg, moved on to the next. “You have a funny sense of what makes for a major expense. When will you meet with your father?”
“We got a meeting set for Friday.”
“Friday. You’re flying to New York then?”
“Yeah,” he said as she turned off the water with a squeak of the spigot. “I’m going to miss your show. I’m sorry.”
She poked her arm out and reached for the nearby towel but didn’t slide the curtain back. “It’s okay. I mean, I’d like you to be there of course, but getting the money for town and Villa Blue is important.”
He took a generously deep breath. She was so damn calm and understanding, it was almost maddening. “I really am sorry, Ivy. I want to be there for you.”
Finally she drew open the curtain and was wrapped in a towel with her hair dripping, her eyes wonderfully wide and smiling. “Hearing that is nice. And I know. It’s all right.”
“I’ll make it up to you.”
Her eyebrows raised as she stepped out of the tub. “Oh yeah? That sounds fun.”
Aiden pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her.
“You’ll get wet.”
“Oh yeah? That sounds fun,” he said, echoing her words with a grin.
She put a palm on his chest and nudged him away. “I have to get ready and help make fettuccine.”
“You sure you’re not mad?”
Ivy reached for her lotion, squirted a few pumps in her hand and began spreading it on her arms. “If you asked me to go to New York, I’d say no because I have a gallery show. And I wouldn’t expect you to get mad. I have a show, you have a meeting.”
“That’s very reasonable.”
“Well if you’d like me to yell, I can give it a try.”
He thought about it as he watched her female routine with lust gripping his gut. “I think I might.”
She scrunched her face into a stern scowl and she raised a fisted hand. “God dammit, I told you...!” Then she broke character and burst out laughing. “How was that?”
“Awful. And amazing. You’re cute when you’re trying to be mad.”
“Intimidating, I know. Now scoot. If you’re in here any longer, I’m liable to demand you take off your clothes then we’ll miss dinner entirely.”
He stepped toward her and again was rewarded with her laughter. What was it about that sound that felt so good to hear? It was familiar, soothing. Tantalizing, he thought as he ran a hand up the bottom hem of her towel.
“No, no. Scram, sexy man. I’ll be up at the villa in a few minutes. You could start helping Donatella?”
“I’ll do that.” He snuck in a kiss. “Once I take a cold shower,” he told her as he trailed a series of kisses down her neck.
She eyed him in the mirror above the sink, watching as his hands and mouth skimmed along her freshly showered skin. “Oh fine,” she said on a sigh, then dropped her towel and jumped onto him, wrapping her legs around him. “But we only have time for one orgasm.”
“Maybe two.” He carted her toward the bed, considering himself the happiest man in the world.
“Maybe two.”
Chapter Sixteen
Dressed in a flowing white gauzy dress, Ivy waved back to the three men on the ferryboat who waved at her. She watched as Aiden, Emmett, and Logan became blurry against the backdrop of the broad blue waters, as if life became an impressionist painting.
And if she weren’t the one painting it, Monet would, she imagined. With a pallet of dark periwinkle and soft greens, the scene would be reflective yet encompassing, using marks of abstract expressionism. At first glance it would be casual, a joyous parting, but beneath that there would be currents of yearning.
Or maybe that was just how she felt. Yearning, she thought, considering how very much the word represented the image in her mind’s eye. As if there were thin lines under the water that connected the two of them—her and Aiden—invisible to anyone without a keen eye. And what would become of those lines after everything settled?
Once the trio of men disappeared into the horizon, sailing off to the commercial airport on the mainland, she stopped for a scoop of ice cream—mint chocolate chip—and enjoyed every lick as she made her way back up to the villa in the cart Aiden had left for her. Apparently he’d purchased the thing during one of his and his brother’s many trips into town to meet with proprietors, and left it in her care.
She followed the sway of the road, climbing up toward Villa Blue. And wasn’t it stunning? she thought through the intense quiet that had descended. The cypress trees had grown taller, the blue of the villa had brightened. And it was bigger, she decided with a chuckle. According to her, in the past few weeks, Villa Blue had managed to grow in size, intensify in color, and had begun to sparkle with something magical.
Magical, she thought as she pulled the cart into a perky, pocket-sized parking space. Donatella would love that the term “magical” had sprung loose in her mind. Ivy didn’t believe in magic just as she didn’t believe in a muse as a driving force. She was good at being an island unto herself, self-reliant to her core.
But since she’d met Aiden, not just the term “magical” had begun to spring loose in her life on a whole. He’d led her to the edges of her comfort zone then had held her hand and taken flying leaps—literally—beyond them. And, she thought, unable to hold back the grin, he’d shown her what it meant to have truly excellent sex.
She began to wonder if Aiden would have sex with other women while in New York, taking their hands and soaring with them too. Should she have asked? Then she realized she also hadn’t asked when he was coming back.
The future had too many unknowns, and the unknown she most needed to give her attention to was her truest passion—her art.
Daydreams of Aiden could sneak in, she wouldn’t turn them away, but the worry she could do without. She was one day out from her show in San Francisco and she wanted to be ready for it—physically, mentally, and energetically.
A bubble of thrill tingled up her spine as she entered her studio and spotted a plain brown bag in the center of her bed. And on the bag was a giant bow in a burst of primary colors.
Curious, she moved to the bed, eyed the thing. In the quiet hum of her questioning mind, she carefully removed the bow and peeked inside. Worry gave way to a burst of laughter as she pulled out a bucket of jumbo-sized sidewalk chalk. And tied to the handle of the bucket was a note:
Stay away from street sweepers. Aiden
Well, that was damn cute, she thought, with a boost of giddiness. A grown man had bought her a bucket of sidewalk chalk because he’d known what it would mean to her. Damn cute on several levels, she decided.
Wishing she could pick up the phone and thank him, hear his voice, she made a mental note that she really did need a new cell phone. It had been on her to-do list but given that she didn’t love talking on the phone anyway, she’d pushed that little item further and further down the list until it had eventually fallen off. Plus she hadn’t thought to ask for his number and she had other business to deal with.
So she left her studio and walked up the path and into the villa where she greeted a group of three couples who were visiting from—where had Donatella told her? Kansas? Kentucky?—then continued on, still smiling, toward Donatella’s nook of an office.
She used the landline to call the framer who confirmed that the courier had picked up the final paintings. Then she called the gallery and confirmed that everything was hung and ready for the show the next day.
A grin buoyed on her face once again as she strolled into the kitchen for some water.
“Don’t you look like a happy woman the day before her
big show?” Donatella’s sensual voice hummed.
Ivy pulled a glass from the cupboard, filled it with water. “I am happy. And excited. And a little bit nervous. Well, maybe a little bit more nervous than I’m admitting.” She paused to drink. “What happens if no one comes to the show? What if no one buys anything? Or it gets terrible reviews in the Chronicle? Van Gogh sold only one painting in his lifetime. One.”
Donatella pulled out a bottle of champagne from the wine fridge then peeled off the foil wrapper, making a mess in the process. With a loud pop, champagne flowed out onto the counter.
“Early in the day for champagne, isn’t it?”
“It’s never too early to celebrate something so important. I’m sorry I can’t be at your show. L.B. and Nicholas extended their trip to Palm Springs to stretch over this weekend. And I can’t leave our guests by themselves, so we’re celebrating now.”
“Oh, I know you can’t come. It’s okay. And, sure, why not? Champagne sounds lovely.”
“Your sexy man won’t be there, I won’t be there. Are any of your friends or family in Carmel going?”
Ivy accepted the flute, held it. “No, I don’t believe it’s their sort of thing.”
“Art? How can art not be their thing?”
“I think it’s more me being an artist that’s not their thing.”
“Their loss. So I take it your family’s visit didn’t go well?”
“Not really.” Ivy sipped. “I’ve spent a lot of my life bending to fit into their world, and I’m not bending anymore. I’m just me, and however long it takes them to accept that, then that’s how long it takes. It is what it is,” she announced, knowing that she had to believe that, to trust that, otherwise it was too heartbreaking to consider.
“No champagne for them.”
Relief sprinkled over her like a good spring rain on freshly sprouting buds. She’d never had a friend quite like Donatella, one who required no explanation in order to understand, no exhaustive details to be loyal. “No champagne for them. Cheers.”