A Season of You

by Emma Douglas

  “I have to work,” she said.

  “So do I. But not twenty-four seven. We’ll figure it out. And hey, there’s all the Christmas Festival activities to look forward to.”

  Mina groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

  “Think of it as keeping the spirit of Christmas on your side.”

  “All right,” she said reluctantly. “But I’m not doing that thing with the fake sleighs.”

  One of Angie’s bright ideas had been sleigh rides around the island. Only with the distinct lack of snow on Lansing, she’d been forced to improvise with wheeled carts with some decorations filling in for the sleighs. Which in Will’s mind was just a carriage ride, but apparently they were sticking with calling them sleighs. So he had to agree with Mina that they sounded a bit lame.

  “I am happy to avoid fake sleighs,” he agreed. “I can think of more fun ways to see the island with you anyway.”

  “Such as?”

  He shook his head. “I think you’ll have to wait and see on that one. Hidden depths, remember?”

  She smiled. Then shivered. Which brought him back to reality. They’d been standing out here too long. He needed to go. He didn’t want to, but he needed to.

  “You’re cold. I’m going to go. Thanks for inviting me. The food was great. As were other things.”

  “You’re trying to get me to kiss you again, aren’t you?”

  “Is it working?”

  “Maybe.” She considered him a moment, then stood on tiptoe and pressed her mouth over his. Just for a few seconds. Just long enough to heat his blood and fog his brain all over again. To make him want desperately to pull her close, then closer still. Resisting that impulse actually hurt.

  Then she pulled away and it was no longer an option. “Good night, Will.”

  “See you tomorrow?”

  “I’m working during the day. And you have the bar at night?”

  “We can figure something out. I’ll call you.”

  “I might answer,” she said. And then she was gone, slipping like a selkie through the night back to the house and out of sight.

  chapter eleven

  Mina spent much of Friday locked in her studio, still trying to make up for lost time. There was less than a month now before she had to send her paintings to the gallery. She’d promised them thirty, and though she had painted more than that already she still didn’t have thirty she was happy to put on show for the whole world to see.

  She tried to lose herself in the paint and not think about Will, but wasn’t exactly successful. For one thing, her fingers kept starting to idly move to shift the lines of the ocean she was trying to capture into something more like a face. Will’s face.

  But the gallery was expecting seascapes, not portraits. Will’s face could wait. But even when she mastered her fingers, she couldn’t stop her brain from straying. She tried some of her usual methods for distraction. Podcasts. No, she lost track of the story after a few minutes. Radio. No. She switched that off when she figured out they were doing a favorite Christmas song request show. And that people had apparently requested “All I Want for Christmas Is You” three times in a row.

  Though, thankfully one of them had asked for the Michael Bublé version rather than the original Mariah. More soothing. But apparently Christmas music wasn’t going to distract her today.

  After that she’d switched to one of the playlists of movie scores she used as background noise, but even that hadn’t been enough to put her into the zone. By three p.m., the light was fading and she had two new paintings, neither of which she was happy with.

  She’d just returned from taking Stewie for a walk to try and shake off the bad day when her phone buzzed to life in her pocket.

  She put the phone on the counter and hit speaker while she tried to wrangle Stewie out of his harness. Never an easy task when he was more focused on trying to puppy-dog-eye her into a postwalk cookie than on cooperating.

  “Hello?” she yelled in the general direction of the phone as Stewie tried to thread himself and the lead around her legs, treading on her toes in the process.

  “Mina?” It was Will’s voice. “Where are you?”

  “At home. Sorry, you’re on speaker, just a second.” She managed to get Stewie to sit long enough to finish the job of extracting dog from harness and then sent him to his basket with a liver treat to hold him temporarily. “Okay.” She picked up the phone. “I’m back.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yes.” Except for the way her pulse picked up at the sound of his voice. “Just got back from walking Stewie.” Did she sound breathless? Lord, she hoped not. But if she did, hopefully he’d think it was just because she’d been exercising. “Er, how’s your day been?”

  “Quiet so far. But I’m heading into town to help with some festival preparations. Painting a few Christmas trees or something.”

  “Painting Christmas trees?” Mina realized she really hadn’t been paying attention in the meeting.

  “Fake ones. Part of the decorations. Thought you might like to join me. After all, you’re the artist.”

  “Not as far as anyone on the island knows, I’m not,” she pointed out.

  “Ah. Right. I forgot. It’s your secret identity. Well, it doesn’t have to be a paint job worthy of Michelangelo, so no one will suspect you know what you’re doing. I’m working later and I’d like to see you. Seems like a suitably Christmas-y activity to kick off our … project.”

  “Is that what we’re calling it?”

  “Got a better term?”

  Doomed fling? Really bad idea? Moment of rashly giving into temptation? Month-long booty call? None of those were exactly festive. And no matter what she thought about it, she couldn’t deny that she was happy he’d called her. That he wanted to see her and hadn’t decided after a night’s reflection that the deal she was offering him was a crock and he was better off just bailing on the whole thing. “‘Project’ will do for now.”

  “So is that a yes? I can come pick you up?”

  “My house is in the opposite direction to the town from your place.”

  “It’s not far. Nowhere on the island is far. Plus, you get to ride in the Mustang if you let me come get you.”

  A ride in Lulu that she could remember and actually appreciate had some appeal. As did the man offering it. “Okay, it’s your gas bill.”

  “I’ll be there in about twenty minutes. Wear something you don’t mind getting paint on.” The phone beeped as he cut off the call. Mina looked down at her ragged sweats. Something she didn’t mind getting paint on? That described a good chunk of her wardrobe. Of course, she was used to working in watercolor, which was not quite as hard on the clothes as oil paint or house paint. What did you use to paint Christmas trees? She had no idea. But regardless of the answer, she decided that she could come up with a version of paint-friendly clothing that looked a bit better than her current outfit. Even in twenty minutes.

  * * *

  It was just as well that she’d convinced herself to settle for a compromise between vanity and practicality. Because what Will had sold as a “few trees” was in fact fifty twelve-foot plywood Christmas trees. Plus piles of three foot-tall candy canes. That was a lot of paint. The old but not completely trashed jeans she’d changed into were not likely to survive if her previous experiences painting large objects held true. Large objects meant big brushes and rollers. Those were drippy and messy. She just hoped the paint in the large tins stacked up beside the piles of candy canes wasn’t oil-based. Oil was a pain to clean up and the smell of turpentine tended to turn her stomach. There was a reason she worked with watercolor.

  Beside her, Will was taking in the trees and paint. He didn’t look totally thrilled either. None of the seven volunteers standing in the chilly shed with them did. And Will, at least, had an out because he would have to leave and go to the bar in a few hours. Hopefully she’d be able to bail at the same time because he was her ride. Though, knowing Lansing, if they weren’t
finished by then one of the others would volunteer to take her home so she could stay and help finish the job.

  “So how are we going to tackle this?” Sam Unger asked.

  Ryan, dressed in jeans that were way too nice for a painting session, looked at the notes on his phone. “Candy canes are red and white. Trees are green with brown trunks.” He waved his hand at the cans of paint. “There are plenty of brushes and things.”

  “Well, the candy canes should be easy,” Mina said. “Paint them with a coat or two of white—whatever it takes to get good coverage, then add the red stripes. The trees will be trickier if you want them to look good. I guess we can mix a few shades of green using some of the white paint. Add a bit of detail.”

  Was everyone looking at her weirdly? “I painted some scenery in high school,” she said. “I’m just saying.”

  “My notes just say green.” Ryan said, looking bored.

  “How are they being displayed?” Will asked.

  Ryan frowned. “Why does that matter?”

  “If they’re being put up against buildings, we don’t have to paint the backs. If they’re free standing, we do.”

  “Stands, they have stands. So you need to do both sides.” Ryan tapped something on the screen. “So I’ll just leave you to it?”

  “You’re not staying to help?” Sam asked.

  Ryan shook his head. “Sorry, work to do.”

  Given most of the island took the day after Thanksgiving as a holiday, that seemed unlikely. But Ryan had never been Mina’s favorite person—and these days he seemed to have adopted Angie’s dislike of all things Harper—so it was fine by her if he was bailing.

  So instead of arguing, she just started sorting through the tins of paint trying to see what they had to work with.

  By the time the first ninety minutes had passed it was clear that they weren’t going to get the job done in a day. The cool weather was making the paint dry slowly and everything was going to need two or more coats. Still, it wasn’t so bad, hanging out with Will, trying to figure out the best way to wrangle the giant trees into position so they could be painted. And there was something therapeutic about sloshing thick paint onto something so big, with no pressure to really make it pretty.

  Endless green was somehow soothing. Plus it was simple enough that it hid the fact that she was distracted. Not by the paintings waiting for her back in her studio or by any of the other general holiday season things she should be thinking. Buying presents for a start. No, she kept finding herself thoroughly distracted by Will’s arms.

  It was warm enough in the shed once they started moving around. The mayor had provided a couple of patio-style heaters and between that and wrestling with the trees, Mina had taken off her coat. So had Will. What’s more, he’d rolled up the sleeves on his shirt.

  She’d always had a weakness for forearms and hands. And his were good. Very good. Muscled and strong and tanned. She’d been too focused on his face when she’d drawn him to pay that much attention to his body and too caught up in the taste of him when they’d kissed. But standing here with green paint staining her hands and a roomful of people, she was having trouble not staring.

  Or not touching.

  Will obviously had wielded a paintbrush before. She’d painted the lighthouse with Adam’s help when they’d first moved in. Adam, having grown up with a boatbuilder dad, had spent plenty of time staining or painting wood. He’d taught her the tricks, but she’d never been able to keep up with him. Will moved with the same easy rhythm as he wielded a roller over the trees, leaving Mina to fill in the edges and any spots he missed. The long sure strokes were kind of mesmerizing.

  Part of her wanted to capture the line of him on paper. Part of her wanted those hands doing something a little more personal.

  She wasn’t quite ready for either of those things, so she tried to keep her head down and just work, but apparently her eyes had a mind of their own. Try as she might, keeping her gaze away from Will was nearly impossible.

  Which was mortifying. There’d been some intrigued looks on the faces of some of the other volunteers when she and Will had arrived together. If they caught her staring at him every ten seconds, then the island grapevine would swing into action.

  It was nearly impossible to keep a secret in such a small town, but she’d prefer to keep her and Will quiet. Not secret, but she didn’t want everyone in the town getting involved. Not when it was temporary. The less “Oh poor Mina, did you break up?” questions she had to face after Christmas, the better. She’d had enough poor-Mina questions to last a lifetime.

  Maybe it would be sensible to back out now. She bit her lip, considering it. But then Will moved back into her line of vision, bending to dip the roller in the paint tray again, a move that tightened his jeans over his butt as well as giving her yet another glimpse of those forearms in action, and she wavered.

  God. She’d forgotten how to do this. Or maybe she’d never learned. She’d only dated a couple of guys when she’d been in junior high before she met Adam and her one-night stands had never involved dating. With Adam she’d been all certainty that everything was going to be just fine. That they’d be together forever. That it was right.

  None of this confusing tangle of What the hell am I feeling? and What the hell do I do?

  “Everything okay?” Will asked.

  Mina started. Damn. Had he noticed how distracted she was? “I’m good.” But she flushed as she met his eyes and dropped her gaze back down to the tree. Never had anyone focused quite so hard on the inch-wide edge of a wooden Christmas tree.

  “Okay,” Will said from above her.

  Was she imagining things or did his voice sound vaguely … satisfied?

  Do not look up. The brush slipped on the edge of the tree as she tightened her fingers on the handle. But she didn’t look up, just kept painting.

  But laying on foot after foot of green paint was rapidly losing its appeal, not that it had had much to begin with.

  After she’d made her way around two more trees, Will finally put down his roller and came back to where she was working. “I need to head back to the bar. You nearly finished?”

  She glanced down at the row of trees. There was still a lot of work to be done but her back was aching and so was her shoulder. A ride home with Will was a lot more appealing than staying back here. Once Will left, she was pretty sure that everyone would be grilling her about why she’d arrived with him. So yes, she was ready to go.

  “Absolutely,” she said, straightening. “I’ll just clean up my brush.” Will followed her over to the sink and rinsed out his roller while she’d removed the worst of the paint from her brush. They hung up the tools and made their goodbyes without too much effort, though Sam extracted promises from them both to come back to keep working on the trees on Sunday.

  Mina winced inwardly at the thought of losing more time but couldn’t think of a polite way of refusing.

  “You’re quiet,” Will said as they pulled back onto the road.

  “Just thinking,” she said. “Too much to do. Too little time.”

  “Bill working you too hard?”

  “Something like that,” she agreed.

  “You should tell him to take it easy. It’s still not that long since your accident,” Will said, sounding grumpy about it.

  Guilt pinged Mina’s conscience. “Bill’s fine. It’s something else.”

  “Care to elaborate?”

  Did she? She contemplated Will for a second. Should she tell him about the gallery? She hadn’t even told Faith yet, but she wanted to tell someone. Maybe Will was the easy first step. She didn’t need to be nervous about his reaction. Not like Faith’s. Part of her knew it was silly to be nervous about telling her sister. Faith would cheer her on, but somehow telling her or Lou would make it all real. Besides, if Will knew about the gallery then she had an extra excuse to slow things down between them if she needed it.

  “I’ve been asked to show some paintings at a gallery in L
.A. after New Year’s,” she blurted. “It’s my first show. And I’m kind of behind. I have to finish everything and get it to L.A. by the twenty-fourth. That’s not much time.” Less than a month, she realized, and felt the anxiety start to tighten her stomach again.

  “Hey, that’s great,” Will said. “The show part, not that being behind part.” He steered Lulu through the final turn onto the road that wound around the island from Cloud Bay to her place. “Do you think you can get it done in time?”

  “Yes,” she said, hoping she sounded more convincing than she felt. “But it will be tight between work and the festival.”

  “You should ask Bill for some time off,” Will said.

  “Lots of people want time off for the holiday,” Mina said. “They have kids and families to juggle. I don’t want to make it harder.”

  “By which I’m guessing that you’ve done your share of covering during busy times,” Will said. “Just because you don’t have kids doesn’t mean you don’t get to put yourself first sometimes. And this gallery thing is a big deal, right? If the art is what you want to do.”

  “It is.” Her heart started to beat faster at the thought, and she made herself relax.

  “Then tell Bill that. He’ll figure it out. Take a couple of shifts a week off if you don’t want to leave them in the lurch.”

  “The festival starts next weekend. That means tourists. Tourists means we’ll be busy.”

  “Not that busy. This is Cloud Bay, not Hawaii. Like you said, we’re not exactly the number-one Christmas vacation destination in California.”

  “Tell that to Angie,” Mina muttered.

  Will laughed. “You don’t like the mayor much, do you?”

  Mina shrugged. “Angie’s okay. But she doesn’t like my family. Never has. And that hasn’t been helped by Seth and Lou seeing each other. She made Faith jump through a lot of extra hoops this year for CloudFest. So, she doesn’t always make it easy to like her.”

  “Huh,” Will said. “I guess that’s why there’s no one from Harper on the festival committee. I thought that was weird. But we were talking about Bill, not Angie. About you asking for some time off. Which will not cause Cloud Bay to fall into the ocean. I’m almost one hundred percent certain of that.”