Rose (Beach Brides Book 9)

by Shanna Hatfield

  Lily (Beach Brides Series) by Ciara Knight

  Copyright © 2017 Ciara Knight

  Lily

  Beach Brides Series

  By

  Ciara Knight

  Prologue

  Lily’s Message in a Bottle

  Chapter One

  Lily sat in the sand and sketched the early morning critters. Seagulls swooped and called to each other as crabs peeked hesitantly from their havens in the sand. This was the only time she was able to work on what she loved most. Art. Life art, as she called it, and predawn on the remote sandy beach of Cape Hope in the Florida Panhandle was her idea of life at its finest, even if her big sister, Connie, considered it isolating.

  Bicycle breaks squealed from the boardwalk behind her, but she ignored them, knowing her sister had only come to scold her for sneaking away when she had real work to do.

  With a light touch, Lily smeared the edge of the charcoal line to soften it as she sketched the debris that had washed up on shore. The chunk of wood appeared to be a crab favorite with all the little critters skittering over the bark. Shells and pebbles littered the sand. Just beyond the driftwood, a glass bottle rested on its side, abandoned and forgotten. Her wish to find true love had been tossed aside like that bottle, after being crushed into tiny pieces like the grains of sand at her feet. Not that she was bitter.

  “Lily!” Connie’s voice startled the crabs and they scurried back into their quicksand homes at the water’s edge.

  Lily sighed and placed her charcoal pencil in the tin container resting on the sand beside her. Sealing it shut, she dusted the sand from her sketchbook before closing it. She stole one more second of peace and squeezed the sand between her toes as though trying to root herself to the spot. The warm, cushy feeling made her smile. Even if she’d lost the guy and the happily-ever-after, she still had her first true love—art.

  A seagull swooped down in an attempt to steal her muffin, but Lily quickly folded the paper back around it. “Ah, maybe next time. I’m on to you now.” She stuffed it in her bag then stood.

  Connie kicked and slid and complained her way over the sand dunes to Lily’s side. “Are you seriously out here again? How many ocean sunrises can you possibly paint?”

  Lily rolled her eyes. “I’m not painting. Do you see an easel or canvas?” She brushed the dirt from her capris and grabbed her flip-flops.

  A breeze picked up, sending Connie’s skirt everywhere but where it belonged. “Are you ready to go back to New York yet? I’m tired of this heat and the tiny cottage…” She looked up and down the deserted beach then back at Lily. “And the lack of people.”

  “You mean lack of men.”

  Connie only shrugged, a family trait. “So, I’m human. I like companionship.”

  “Well, if I had my way I’d live here forever.” Lily trudged up the sand dunes, tossed her flip-flops into the basket attached to the front of her old-style bike, and rode back to her cottage a couple of blocks away.

  Connie arrived a minute after her. “Why do you go down there when you can sit on our back deck instead?”

  “Because I hope my sister won’t find me and tell me I need to stop painting.”

  Connie sighed. “If I had half your talent, I’d be in New York right now selling my paintings. Besides, if you really wanted to hide, you wouldn’t go to the same spot every time.”

  The front screen door creaked in protest as she opened it, and she made a mental note to ride out to the bigger town of Cape San Blas to get a can of WD-40 to oil the hinges. The smell of fresh-brewed coffee, an obvious bribe, and the sight of her easel told her it was time to get to work. “It’s a perfect spot. I love it there.” She shot Connie a sideways, playful glare. “No one bothers me.”

  “You know you love me,” Connie said, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Fine. I guess I do owe you for coming here with me.” Setting her sketchbook and tin on the counter, she asked, “So, what’s the order today?”

  “Landscape,” Connie said in an enthusiastic tone.

  Lily grabbed a mug, poured her coffee and plopped down in the chair. “Again? Let me guess, New York City skyscrapers.”

  “No, you’ll love this. Seriously, you can’t even complain.” Connie poured coffee into her own mug then leaned against the counter. “The man wants to pay two thousand dollars for you to paint his house. The picture is sitting on the bookshelf over there. Isn’t that great?”

  “Ugh.” Lily let her head drop back and banged it against the wall behind her. “Why me?”

  “You told me you wanted to make enough money to open your own gallery so you didn’t have to commission pieces anymore. That’s the whole reason we came here. Well, that and so you didn’t have to see that monster of an ex again. That’s what I’m trying to do.” Connie tugged her sleeve, handed her the photo, and sat down on the arm of Lily’s chair. “I know you like sketching emotional pieces, but that won’t pay the bills. At least, not right now.”

  “I know. I know.” Lily held up the picture, eyeing the atrocity she had to paint. An over-the-top, gaudy mansion with weird-looking garden gnomes and half-naked statues stared back at her. It looked like French country had attacked the South and the only ones who survived were the hillbillies disguised as gnomes.

  With a sigh, she stood and went to her easel. She mixed colors on her palette and began to paint, not putting much heart in it. Not that it mattered. The man who owned such a disaster of architecture wouldn’t know art if he was hit over the head by one of his garden gnomes.

  “You know, if you hate it that much, we can go back to New York,” Connie said as she watched Lily work. “There are other galleries, other artists—”

  “No.” The rise of panic bubbled up to the surface. “I’m not ready. Besides, Stephon’s influence is far-reaching.”

  “Please, his name is Steve, and he’s no more European than Grandma Mildred. The man’s a fake. He used you then tossed you aside.”

  “Doesn’t matter. His influence in the art community there is so deep-rooted, I’d never be able to get into anyone else’s gallery. No one would hire me.” Lily sighed. “Let it go. If you want to return to New York, then go. I won’t be upset.”

  Connie gave her a dismissive wave and turned her attention to her computer to find the next humiliating job for Lily. Connie meant well, and Lily loved her sister. Heck, Lily would’ve starved by now if Connie hadn’t lined up work for her. She sighed again then brought the picture closer to her face to study the lines and shading of an anatomically inaccurate half-clothed gargoyle.

  Two hours later the doorbell chimed and Lily happily tossed her paint brush into her rinse water, seeing the visitor as a means to make her escape. Unfortunately, before her butt was off the chair Connie had already lunged into action. “I’ve got it. You keep working. Oh, I may have another commission coming, of a tree house.”

  Lily fell back into her chair, chastising herself for agreeing to accept commissions for art pieces. As a business woman, Connie was great at selling things, and Lily knew her sister had her best interest at heart. Still, she felt like her soul was being sold to the highest bidder.

  The front door squeaked as Connie opened it, then a deep, deliciously distracting voice said, “Excuse me, I’m looking for someone by the name of Lily Holt. I was told I could find her here.” Curious and happy for an excuse to ignore her project, Lily slipped from her chair and tiptoed toward the front door. Perhaps she could get a front row seat to her sister’s skills. Connie always amped up the charm when meeting new people.

  “Who may I ask are you?” Surprisingly, Connie’s tone sounded suspicious.

  “My name is Josh Raymond, from the Raymond Advertising Agency. I’d like to speak with Ms. Holt about a piece of artwork.”

  “Why didn’t you say so? Come inside,” Connie said, oozing enough southern charm it would put Scarlett O’Hara to shame.

  Lily moved behind the column at the edge of the kitchen and snuck a peek a
t the stranger. Dark, wavy hair, tall, and well dressed, he looked more suited to the galleries of New York than a small beach town. Yet that was just at first glance. The back of his hair was slicked down, making her think it was probably unruly most of the time. Despite being Italian leather, his shoes were dusty from the sand that blew around everywhere in a beach town. He appeared as out of place as Connie did here, yet the contradiction only peaked her curiosity even more.

  Connie offered him a beaming smile, no doubt having already assessed his wealth. Good, Lily thought. Maybe a male distraction with money to spend would get Connie off her back for a day or two. The man’s looks would have been enough motivation for most women, but not Connie.

  “Can I offer you some coffee or tea?” Connie asked, gesturing him toward the small kitchen. “I’m Connie, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you, Connie. And thank you, but nothing for me. Is Ms. Holt here?” he asked. The man turned, and Lily caught a glimpse of the most brilliant blue eyes, the kind that leapt out and capture your heart.

  She raced to retrieve her colored pencils and sketchbook, then started blending shades of blue on a fresh sheet. It was somewhere between the brightness of electric blue and the depth of cobalt. Unique and mesmerizing. She tried to capture that feeling on paper.

  “Lily, we have a guest.”

  Lily’s head shot up, only just realizing they had been watching her.

  Josh offered his hand. “Ms. Holt. I’m Josh Raymond—”

  “Yes, from the advertising agency. I heard you.” Ignoring his hand, she turned her attention back to her sketchbook. She wanted to find that color before it was gone.

  “When you were spying on us from behind that column?” Josh asked with a smile. His expression was all business, yet a hint of playfulness slipped through. It distracted her enough that she lost the snapshot in her mind. As she stared at him, trying to recapture it, a shadow darkened his face. She shuffled close and angled her head so she could get a good look at him, and he quirked a brow at her. Then she remembered her sister’s chastisement after things fell apart with Stephon. “You’ll never catch a decent man if you keep acting like a crazy art fool.” Embarrassed, Lily abruptly stepped back. “Sorry. It was your eyes.”

  His other brow joined its partner high on his forehead. “My eyes?”

  “Yes, um, the color. It’s unique, and I wanted to capture it.”

  Connie shook her head. “My sister isn’t as strange as she seems, I promise.”

  “No, it’s fine. The color’s blue,” he said, pulling at the collar of his suit. She never could understand how businessmen tolerated being so overly dressed, especially in summertime.

  Did he think she couldn’t see the color for herself? “No,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s more than that. There’s depth to it and a lightness, like swirls of kindness mixed with intrigue.”

  “You get all that from my eyes?” he asked.

  She blinked at him, surprised he didn’t go running from the cottage. Most people she met would find any excuse to leave if she said something like that to them. “Yeah. It’s my passion, what I love to draw. The soul behind an image or item. It’s not just about slapping paint on a canvas and calling it art.” She couldn’t help but eye the canvas on her easel with the ugly house. The house whose soul had been smothered by garden gnomes, gaudy paint and scantily clad gargoyles.

  “I see. Well, I’m here to ask you for permission to use one of your art pieces for an advertisement we’re working on for next Valentine’s Day.”

  Interest in his eyes vanished and she did her best to suppress an eye roll. Great. The only thing worse than being commissioned to do bad art pieces was advertising. Cheap slogans for the masses slapped on art meant to portray so much more. Was that all her art was anymore? Was that all the ability she had left? “Let me guess, you want to use that heart I painted for that French client in New York. Go ahead, what do I care. It’s garbage anyway.”

  “No, I want to use this.” He withdrew a piece of folded paper from his pocket. Even before he opened it and handed it to her, she knew what it was. It was a drawing from three years ago, though it felt like a lifetime. “It was a message.”

  Lily shook her head, not wanting to look at the image of a couple happily embracing on Enchanted Island. “No, it was supposed to be, but I’m not much of a writer, so I drew this.” She hadn’t been able to find the words to express her wish, so she drew it instead. Her wish for the man she thought she loved to stop cheating and stealing from her. Yet it took another year for her to really see the truth. That day she’d thrown out the picture of her wish, the way the man she’d loved had thrown out her trust. She sunk into her seat. “Where did you find that?”

  “eBay.” He cleared his throat and tugged his tie away from his neck. “Actually, my partner, Allen, found it and brought it to me. We both think it’s perfect for the campaign we’re working on. So does the client. He wants to use this but with some tweaks. We’d like you to redraw it with those tweaks, but I’ll need to have it for my meeting back in New York in thirty days.”

  New York and her message in the bottle, two things she never wanted to see again. And the thought of her ex ever seeing the image of what could’ve been between them, the proof of her affection for him, made her stomach knot. “Why would anyone sell this on eBay?”

  “Because it’s unique, and even though part of it was damaged by moisture, it’s breathtaking. Besides, a message in a bottle is a curious thing that grabs people’s interest. Can I ask why you put this in a bottle and tossed it into the ocean?”

  “No.” She sank further into her chair, shying away from him. She wasn’t about to have that conversation with a complete stranger.

  “Fair enough. Still, we’d like to buy the rights to this image. Well, actually a version of this image.”

  “No—”

  Connie stepped between her and Josh. “How much are you willing to pay for it?”

  Josh smiled. “We can negotiate, but I have initial approval from my client to pay around twenty thousand dollars for all rights to the artwork.”

  Connie’s eyes sparkled as she glanced down at her, and Lily suppressed a groan. It seemed the goddess of ocean romance had a poor sense of humor. Bringing a handsome businessman to her front door with a painful reminder of her failures was in bad taste in Lily’s opinion. Great, she was living one of her paintings. Perhaps she should have been kinder to her subjects.

  Connie looked back at Josh and offered her hand. “Not a penny under twenty-five thousand.”

  No one was going to pay that much for a washed-up artist’s work.

  Josh slid his hands into his pocket and rocked onto his heels. “I’m not sure I can go that high.”

  “Then I’m not sure she can sketch what you need. Good day, Mr. Raymond.”

  “Fine.” Josh removed his hands from his pocket and held them in front of him.

  Lily shook her head. “What?”

  Connie shot her an evil glare to shut her mouth. “She’ll do it.”

  *** End of Excerpt ***

  Lily

  Beach Brides Series

  By

  Ciara Knight

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