by Brooke Moss
“I don’t really know anything about cars, but this is gorgeous. How old is it?”
“A ’67. You don’t know anything about cars? You drive a classic jeep. What is it, a ’64?”
“I really don’t know. The jeep is my grandmother’s. I’m pretty sure she bought it brand new, though.”
“That means it’s been well cared for, probably in excellent condition. I rescued this car from an old barn. It was rotted inside and out. I restored it for three years, doing most of the work myself. Rebuilding old cars is good for the soul.”
“Wow, I imagine rebuilding a car is hard work. You did a great job, it looks perfect.”
Elijah Brewer continued to surprise me. He was hot, nice, and he worked with his hands. I hated to admit he was growing on me. I let my arm trail out, over the open window, fingers splayed as the air rushed by. I could get used to riding in this car and enjoying the sea air whipping around me.
Five minutes later, we pulled into Hannah’s small parking lot. Since it was now quite late in the morning, the place was mostly deserted. Hannah was gone. I was slightly relieved to not have to explain the new guy or the new shirt. Behind the counter a young man, whom I didn’t recognize, was seated on a stool, reading a book. Hannah often employed local students, which was exactly what this kid looked like. The main requirement; treat customers like family. We ordered our coffees at the counter, and Elijah added a breakfast sandwich, then we took a table on the patio out back.
“This is good stuff.” Elijah took another bite, grunting his approval. “You’ll probably roll your eyes, but I’m usually a coffee chain kind of guy.”
“Well, you are from L.A., so that’s kind of a given.”
It felt nice to make him laugh, his eyes lit up as he smiled. I loosened up a little. My guard wouldn’t fall anytime soon, but chatting with a man, who wasn’t Jude, felt good. It’d been a long time since I went on anything resembling a date, not that’s what I thought this was.
“I’m so glad we were able to see Charlie together. Hopefully, his recovery goes smoothly, and he’ll get to go home. The rescue is a great organization. I checked out their website, last night. Looks like they could use an upgrade to their facilities, not to mention some new equipment. Maybe even a full-time employee, or two.” Elijah drummed his fingers on the table, looking off into the distance, as he listed several things the rescue needed.
“They do so much for local sea life. I know they could use more donations. It would be wonderful to hold some type of event for them. I don’t know who would be able to do it, though.”
I had slipped a twenty into their collection box, before we left. A twenty I could have used. The money wouldn’t go far, but it was all I had to give. For Charlie, I needed to give them something.
“Why don’t we help? With your assistance, we could have a party for them at my place. You know the locals, and I can bring down some people from Hollywood. People with deep pockets, who like tax deductions.”
It was a simple, yet perfect idea. We hold a benefit, ask people to donate, maybe offer up an item or two for auction. “Really? I’ll absolutely help. When should we start planning?”
“Let’s get started tonight. Come up to my house. It’s not too big, but should do for a party. I’ll make us dinner, and we’ll lay it out,” he paused. “Lay the plan out.”
He was too good to be true. Something inside me couldn’t accept a guy from Hollywood was this perfect. There had to be more to the story. Still, if he wanted to hold a benefit for the center, I was in.
Back at home, I called Jude. He needed to know what was up and I needed some fashion advice.
“What do I wear?”
“In order to ascertain what your outfit will be, we need to know if this is a date. Is it? Because, it sounds like it could be a date. A second date, actually, if we’re counting coffee.”
“Definitely not a date. Elijah and I are event planners, holding a planning meeting. That’s all.”
“Then why are you worried about your clothes?”
Damn, if Jude didn’t have a point. I hung up with him, took a shower, and decided to go ahead and shave my legs. They needed a shave, anyway. I picked out a simple, white, eyelet summer dress with tan sandals. The dress wasn’t overly dressy, but the color and halter top, showed off my sunless tan nicely. I brushed out my hair, but again left it straight. I was pleased with the overall effect. The somersaulting stomach had made its return, but not in an unpleasant way. It was just dinner…just a meeting, really.
Looking at the address, it occurred to me Elijah’s house was just down the road. I could walk there in about ten minutes. In fact, I was pretty sure I knew exactly which house it was. I remembered seeing a “for lease” sign not long ago. My trepidation returned with a vengeance. Did he say the house wasn’t too big? Big to whom? The house in question was large enough to host a party of several hundred people. It boggled my mind to imagine he lived there alone.
By the time I arrived and stood in front of the barn-door-like gate that separated the mansion from the street, I felt a little sick. I’d been fantasizing. It wasn’t 1820, but Elijah’s was still a world I’d never be comfortable in.
I pushed a button on the post next to the partition. With a whir, it swung aside. Convincing myself this was a business meeting and nothing else, I held my head up high, and walked toward the door. Elijah stood there waiting for me, holding the massive, oak door open. A smile lit up his face.
“You look beautiful.” Not something you would say to a business associate.
He stooped down to kiss me on the cheek. Stay focused, Alice. He looked delectable in black slacks, and a crisp, white shirt tucked in, and open at the collar. He smelled of lemon and cedar wood. He had dressed nicely and put on cologne. My pulse quickened.
“Thanks, too.” The words came out a little twisted. My face flushed, making me feel like a teenager who’d never done this before.
His smile widened, as he stepped back so I could enter. The house was stunning. I had only ever seen the exterior of the local mansion. I was not disappointed. Everything was light and modern without being cold. The open floor plan allowed me to see the kitchen, dining area, and living room all at once. I could even see straight to the ocean, where the sun was setting in a display of fiery reds and oranges.
“The view is incredible. Are there stairs down to the beach?”
“There are. If you want, we can grab our plates and go down to the patio. It sits right on the sand.”
We jumped into action to catch the last of the sunset. We helped ourselves to spaghetti, salad, and a glass of red wine each. Then, with wine glasses in one hand, and plates in the other, we made our way down to the beach. The house was three tiered. The bedrooms appeared to be on the second tier, with a den like space on the bottom, leading out to a concrete patio. We settled in our chairs, just in time for the best part of the sunset. Waves crashed not far from us and sea gulls circled overhead. The calming effect was undeniable. I instantly felt better whenever the sea was in my sights.
The food was delicious. The tagliatelle pasta was perfectly cooked in a simple, yet flavorful vodka sauce. The balsamic dressing was tasty and light.
“This is fantastic. I’m impressed you made this. My go to dinner is usually a bowl of cereal and a banana.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a good bowl of cereal. Cooking calms me. Whenever I’m stressed, a good hour or two in the kitchen Zen’s me right out.”
Cooking had the opposite effect on me. The few times I’d attempted a home cooked meal, I had ended up a ball of nerves, first mixing the wrong ingredients, then burning the whole mess. Elijah was clearly a more put together adult than I was.
We enjoyed our meal, the scenery, and a nice conversation. I didn’t want to be curious about his profession, but I admit I was. Not too many people could afford to rent a place like this.
“So, what do you do for a living?” I asked, hoping the question wasn’t cheesy, or nosy.
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“I’m a screenwriter.”
“Anything I would know?”
He laughed. “Probably. I’ve been lucky. You may have heard of one or two.”
Lucky? He named two of the most successful films of the past couple of years. He was certainly humble for someone who had written blockbusters.
“I did see those. Cityscape is a beautiful film. It brought me to tears several times. You should be very proud. It was wonderful, and I’m not really a movie person.”
“Thanks, it’s been mostly great, I can’t deny that. But, now I’m ready to put Hollywood behind me, at least for a little while. I’ve wanted to write novels since I was a kid. So, that’s going to be the focus now. And you? I know you’re an artist. Is that how you make your living?”
I almost choked on my wine. I didn’t exactly earn a living. Earning a living implied an ability to live without anyone’s support. Painting was everything to me, but it was not lucrative. Still, I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Without my art, I wouldn’t be Alice. I never felt more alive than when I held a paintbrush in my hand. People I’ve never really understood, but art, that I knew. The thought of no longer painting, broke my heart.
“For the most part, I do alright. My paintings sell here and there. I suppose I should buckle down and get a real job. I can’t sling my paints around the beach forever.”
“You never know what the future holds. One thing I know for sure is to always listen to your heart.”
When we had finished the last of our wine, Elijah leaned over the table and clasped his hands. “Well, should we get to work?”
I couldn’t help thinking of how I longed to sit on the beach with a man who found me attractive. Then I reminded myself I wanted to plan the party and nothing more.
CHAPTER FIVE
Now dark, we went inside, taking our dishes with us. I insisted on cleaning up, Elijah had made dinner, after all. While he went in search of pen and paper, I filled the sink up with hot, soapy water. By the time he returned, I was halfway through the dishes. He jumped in to help, drying and putting away, while I washed.
“I’ll get the pan later, it needs to soak.” Elijah reached in front me to set the pan into the sudsy water. The pan slipped out of his hand, hit the water hard, splashing me with soapy bubbles.
“I’m so sorry. What a klutz,” he said, turning me around. He grabbed a dishtowel and began to wipe off the water and bubbles. We looked at each other, instantly dissolving into laughter.
“We are both klutzes, with me always paying the price.”
We continued to laugh, eyes locked on each other. Then, it became awkward. I wanted to look away, but couldn’t. It seemed as if Elijah was having the same problem. I continued to hold his gaze until he broke the stillness by brushing a lock of wet hair behind my ear. The touch of his fingers, as they grazed my cheek, felt so electric, my breath caught.
“Alice, you’re not like any woman I’ve ever known.”
Elijah’s gaze dropped to my lips. Everything else was automatic. I had momentarily silenced the why not’s which had plagued me since meeting this man. I’d quieted the voices inside my head, not wanting to hear the noise. My hands reached out and met the resistance of his hard stomach, before they slid up his chest. His left hand stayed on the side of my face, while his right reached around my waist, drawing me closer. When our lips met, I was so hungry for him, I had to tell myself to relax and take it slow. As we kissed, Elijah secured his grip on my waist, pulling me even tighter.
Against my usual better judgement, I let nature take its course. A human being can’t be expected to make perfect decisions all the time.
A few hours later, Elijah and I were spooned up in his giant bed, gazing out the immense floor to ceiling windows at the blackness beyond. I couldn’t quite see the ocean in the darkness, but I knew it was there. The ever-present rush of water was loud.
“You can see the ocean from your bed. I’m jealous.” I stretched, turning back toward Elijah.
“The view is better in the morning, as you’ll be able to see for yourself.”
I hadn’t anticipated staying the night. Sleeping over felt more intimate to me than the passion we had just shared. The thought made me a little nervous and maybe just a little happy, if I was being honest. If Elijah wanted me to stay, then maybe this wasn’t just a one-time thing.
“I wasn’t planning on staying.”
Elijah pulled my face gently toward his. “Please stay. We still have to talk about the benefit for the rescue. And, we still have the whole night ahead of us.” The thought appealed to me, so I agreed.
I woke refreshed and rested. Elijah’s soft, creamy sheets and thick, hotel quality pillows were what dream beds were made of. Not to mention the dream man sleeping tucked up beside me. The warm sun streamed through the windows and spilled onto the floor. With the brightness, I wondered how Elijah could sleep with so much light in the room. Through the crack in the terrace door, I heard the roar of the waves drowning out all other sounds. It was one of the many wonderful reasons to live by the beach. The sound of the water obliterated most of the everyday noises we didn’t want to hear.
I felt the pull of the ocean. Everything inside of me screamed to get outside and get to work. Feeling blissfully alive for the first time in a long time, I knew my work today would be especially inspired. Painting was my breath and Elijah had given me a burst of air.
Squirming out of Elijah’s tender grasp, I made my way to the edge of the bed. There was no need to wake him, nor did I really want too. I was nervous as to what to expect this morning. He kept surprising me, acting in ways I wasn’t used too. It felt better for me to leave a note, slip out, and see what happened. I dressed silently, then left him a message thanking him for a wonderful time, scribbling my number at the bottom. Simple, with no pressure.
Walking my way back home along the beach sounded more fun than the sidewalk. I made sure to lock the patio door behind me. Moments later my lungs were happily inhaling gulps of fresh sea air. My sandals dangled from my fingers, as I walked down to the water for a little dip of my toes. The sand was already being warmed by the rays of bright sun. A glare on the water made me shield my eyes. The tide rushed over my bare feet, sending delightful chills through my body. The water was chilly, but the sun was dazzling. The combination felt wonderful.
The public stairs near Sylvie’s home were deserted. Another week or two, these stairs and the beach would be lined with mostly tourists, looking for a spot of sand to call their own.
At the top, I slipped my sandals back on, and caught a glimpse of Jude waving to me from my grandmother’s driveway. It seemed awfully early for him to be out and about.
Before I could reach him, he practically yelled, his teeth bared in a wide grin, “Taking the walk of shame, I see.”
Knowing Jude, the way I did, I was sure he meant it as a joke, but instead I found the remark annoying. “Why don’t you say that again? Make sure the entire block hears you this time, including my grandmother.”
“Oh, get a sense of humor. Sylvie has one. I am over the moon, right now. Tell me everything.”
“Can we at least go inside first?”
I felt like punishing Jude just a little for his comment, so I took a slow shower while he marinated in curiosity. In my robe with tea in hand, I finally put him out of his misery and told him all about the night. It was a little more than Jude could handle.
“I’m dying. Elijah Brewer? The Elijah Brewer? And he’s nice and good in bed? Have you died and gone to heaven, or have I?”
“Let’s not get too carried away with ourselves. I just met him a couple of days ago. How often do these sorts of encounters turn into long-term relationships?”
“You’re looking at half a long-term relationship, which began in exactly this way. Well, not literally. There wasn’t a seal, and Ben isn’t a rich, successful screenwriter. But, it could happen. Try a little optimism for breakfast.”
I laughed and shook my head
. “We’ll see. I’m going to just take this, a step, and a day, at a time. One thing this fling with Elijah has made me do is think more about my financial situation. Everyone my age I know is such a grown up. Yet here I sit in my grandmother’s guesthouse without a real job. If I didn’t have Sylvie’s help, I wouldn’t be able to support myself with my art. As much as it pains me to say, it’s true. It’s time I grew up.”
“I have told you before, you always have a job at the gallery. What could be a more perfect fit for you? An artist among art.”
“I appreciate that, Jude. More than I can say. I’m going to give it more thought and let you know. The only thing which gives me pause is having my best friend as my boss. It’s too bad the rescue isn’t hiring. I felt so at home when I was there. Now, about the benefit for the rescue…”
Jude was all ears as I told him how he could play a part in the event. I wanted to put up a poster at his gallery. I also wanted access to his rolodex. He was more than happy to help in any way he could.
“And you can put me down for a case of champagne. I’m sure Mr. Hollywood has the expenses covered, but I want to pitch in with some extra refreshments.”
“Thank you, Jude. You can also spread the word to your business neighbors. I can get them posters, too.”
After Jude left, I jumped into gear. I had more benefit work to do before I could finally stop by the art supply store.
My first stop was Hannah’s. She was happy to help. She’d display a poster in the window and tell everyone she knew. She even sent me off with a free cup of her delicious Columbian roast, as a thank you for the work I was doing.
Walking into the art supply store felt like a long time coming. In reality, it had only been two days since my easel was stolen. The smell of paints permeated the air. I picked out a sturdy, foldable, and most importantly, portable wooden easel. This easel even had a drawer that held paints, paper, and brushes. It was an almost completely self-contained unit. I replenished my dwindling watercolors, picked up a few new brushes, and was more than ready to get to the beach. I had placed a bottle of water, some paper towels, and a cup in the old tote bag I pulled from under my sofa bed, so there was no need to stop back home.