A Brush With Love In Fortune's Bay Read online

  He shook his head. “It’s just a stupid hobby.”

  “Stupid? This is anything but stupid. It’s amazing, and it’s not even finished.” She stared at him with a raised eyebrow, and he wanted to squirm under her gaze. It was insane that she could have this effect on him even at twenty-seven. “I work in an art gallery in New York, so I would know.”

  This was the first time, since those evening art classes, that anyone commended him on his art. Hearing the words coming from her weighed a lot more than anyone else’s.

  “Wait, your mom’s an artist, isn’t she?” She scrunched up her nose in concentration, and he couldn’t help thinking she was adorable. “Felicia Vandermere. We had a couple of her paintings in our gallery a few years ago. They sold at quite an impressive price.”

  Just the sound of his mother’s name made his heart ache. He’d been following her career, looking her up online and waiting for her to contact him, wishing she would show him he was as important as her art. But apparently, he wasn’t.

  “Yeah, I…we’re not really in touch.” He cleared his throat and looked at the box with the cake. “I’ll go get those plates now.”

  He didn’t want to talk about his mother, especially not with Kyla. He always got moody when Felicia Vandermere’s name was brought into a conversation. The last thing he wanted was for Kyla to think he was a grumpy lunatic, on top of everything else she must be thinking. He wanted her to stick around long enough to get to know the real him, not the hermit with a curse hanging over his head everyone in town talked about.

  Aware that his sudden escape must not have helped his case, he filled a wooden tray, as fast as he could, with two plates, cutlery, napkins, and two glasses. Finally, he opened the fridge, pulled out a jug of sweet tea, and returned to the backyard less than two minutes later. Kyla sat in one of the chairs with her chin on her palm, her arm propped on the table as she stared at his painting. Self-consciousness filled him, and he wished he could read her thoughts, see if she really thought his painting was beautiful or if she was just being polite.

  The silverware clattered on top of the plate, bringing Kyla’s attention back to him. Those eyes. They’d starred in many of his teenage dreams and in many of his early sketches. Whenever they’d met his, back in high school, his stomach had clenched and quivered, and his throat had gone dry. Now they were having the same effect on him, even as an adult. No other girl had ever had this effect on him. He didn’t want to go back to those teenage fantasies where he and Kyla became a couple and promised each other eternal love. It had been hard enough to get over her after they both left Fortune’s Bay, to try and feel something for other girls in college, just a tiny spark of something that wasn’t just simple attraction. To convince himself he could have a future with someone who wasn’t the beautiful Irish girl who’d stolen his heart in junior high.

  Then Kyla smiled, and his resolution melted away under the warm Florida sun.

  Kyla was having a hard time making her heart slow down. It had taken all of her courage to show up at Caleb’s, with the excuse to thank him for what he’d done. She hadn’t stopped thinking about him, about those green eyes she had searched for on every face since she left her hometown. When he’d made that stupid joke about being vegan, she’d thought she’d die of embarrassment. Then he’d offered her a slice of cake, and her heart had been dancing a crazy jig—and it still hadn’t stopped. This was as close as they’d ever gotten, and she was as excited as she was scared. Scared of saying or doing something stupid that would make him think she wasn’t worth his time. They’d never said more than a couple of words to each other back in high school, nothing more than ‘hi’ and ‘bye’. The one and only time they sat next to each other, when they got paired for an assignment, they barely spoke more than was necessary. He’d always been too closed-off; she’d always been too shy. This was the moment she’d dreamed of for two years straight, back in high school—and that she’d never stopped wishing for since then.

  After he’d gone inside, she’d stared at his painting, taking in every small detail, every stroke of the brush that was visible on the canvas, how he’d managed to mix the different shades of colors, making them blend into one another on the canvas and creating something not only eye-catching, but emotionally touching. She knew it wasn’t because she was biased; her experience in the gallery had taught her to spot an outstanding work of art at first glance.

  “Did you study art in college?” She tried to keep her tone even, to fake a nonchalance and calm she didn’t feel. In the few minutes she’d been around, she’d understood that he still wasn’t a chatty person, but she wanted to know more about him, about what he’d been up to in these last nine years after graduation, what his life was like—and if he had a girlfriend. The thought of him with another girl had been haunting her since she’d seen him the day before, and she wanted to get it out of the way—not that it made much difference, since she wasn’t going to stay long anyway.

  He placed the tray and a jug on the table, then reached for the box, all the while avoiding her gaze—just like he used to do in high school. Whenever she’d thrown a furtive glance at him, he’d looked away, and he’d always made sure to never look her in the eye if they met in the corridors or in the backyard. She’d always wondered whether he did it because he couldn’t stand her, or like she secretly hoped, because he liked her but was too shy to admit it. With hindsight, she knew that had been wishful thinking.

  “I wanted to, then changed my mind during freshman year. I took extra-curricular art classes in the evening, just for fun.” He kept his eyes fixed on the cake he was cutting, and she stared at his hands. Was she imagining it or was the hand holding the knife trembling a little? “I ended up studying graphic design instead. I create websites and all kinds of graphics.”

  “Do you sell your paintings too?”

  He shook his head as he placed a slice of cake on a plate and handed it to her. “No, they’re just a hobby, I told you.”

  “It’s a pity, though. From what little I can see, you’re talented. You could make a lot of money selling them.”

  He sat on the chair facing her and cut into the millefeuille with his fork. “I don’t care about the money. You should know, like everyone else in town does, that I have quite enough.”

  She chuckled. “Ah, yes. The legend of the cursed money. Because you’re a descendant of Anastasia and Finn.”

  He munched on the cake and shrugged, without saying a word. She took a bite of the scrumptious treat and resisted the urge to moan. Conor wasn’t kidding when he said it was to die for.

  “So, where did you stash all the gold?” She’d noticed how the subject had upset him the day before and she didn’t want this to spoil what she hoped would be their first, proper conversation in ten years. So she thought that if she made a joke about it, he’d understand she didn’t judge him like the others did. That she wanted to be his friend, no matter what the rest of the town residents said about him.

  He tilted his head to the side, and his green eyes narrowed a little as he no doubt tried to assess whether she was joking or if she really believed the legend. When her lips curled up in a smile, the frown left his face and a sparkle of amusement lit his eyes.

  “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.” He lifted a shoulder, then took another forkful of cake. “I wouldn’t want to kill you after you’ve brought such an awesome cake.”

  Kyla chuckled. This was the guy she had dreamed of. She’d always known that under that broody outcast’s mask hid a funny, lively guy.

  “Well, thanks for sparing me an early death.”

  He smiled. “What have you been up to since you left Fortune’s Bay?” he asked, clearly eager to change the subject and move the conversation away from him. She didn’t mind, though. She would tell him the story of her life if it meant spending more time with him.

  “I studied art in New York. I wasn’t sure what exactly I wanted to do but I knew it had to be something related
to art.” She’d always appreciated Impressionism and had tried her hand at oil paintings—but she’d failed miserably. The fact she’d started becoming interested in art may or may not have had something to do with the fact that the broody guy she had a crush on spent most of his time sketching and had taken extra-curricular classes for watercolor paintings in his senior year. “I was lucky one of the professors knew an art gallery manager, and since they were hiring staff for a new gallery they were about to open, I had the chance of having an interview pretty easily. At first, I was nothing more than a newly graduated temp, but when the manager realized I knew what I was doing, I slowly climbed my way up the ladder.”

  Caleb tilted his head to the side and raised his eyebrows. “So you’re a big boss now?”

  She chuckled. “No, not really. I’m just a gallery assistant, although I’m hoping for a promotion soon. My boss assigned me a task just before I left. If I manage to complete it, I’ll be the new junior manager.”

  “I bet you’ll make it. You’ve always been smart and determined.” He looked away as soon as the words were out, as if he’d realized he’d said too much—more than he’d meant to say. His words made her blush. She’d never been good at accepting praise, but coming from him, those words caused all kinds of weird fluttering in her chest.

  “What about you? I knew you’d left town to head off to college. What brought you back? I thought you didn’t like this place.”

  His face darkened, his brows knitting as he moved crumbs around on the plate with his fork. Had she touched a sore spot?

  “I left town the week after graduation and yes, my intentions were to never come back. But my father got sick during my senior year, so I had to come home.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. Is he…is he feeling better now?”

  He shrugged. “He has his good days. At first he was admitted to the hospital for his…drinking issues. He spent some time in rehab and was nearly ready to come home when he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, as well as some kind of liver disease. He spent a few weeks at home, but I couldn’t leave him alone, so I stayed to look after him. Then one day he started doing silly things and forgetting stuff, until one morning I found him wandering in the woods, looking for my mother. The doctor thought it best to admit him into a nursing home, just to make sure he wouldn’t hurt himself or others.”

  He spoke about it as if he was telling a story he’d read in a newspaper. But even though he was trying to be casual, she could tell from the way his eyes had lost their gleam that it hurt him. No matter how his father had treated him in the past, after Caleb’s mom left; the man was the only family member he had, as far as she knew.

  She reached out a hand and touched the back of his with the tips of her fingers. She wasn’t sure whether squeezing it would be overstepping some kind of border, but she wanted to show him her support, to let him know that she cared. If nothing else, they could be friends. He looked down at their hands and didn’t lift his eyes to meet hers. She would have given anything to know what he was thinking, if he minded that she was touching him.

  “It must’ve been hard for you. Don’t you have any relatives that could’ve come and helped?”

  He shook his head. “His sister died two years ago, and I’m not really close with my cousins. My mother’s relatives live on the west coast, but they’ve never even come to visit after she left.”

  “Did you go back to Boston to finish college?”

  “No. I decided to stay around. I could have gone back and finished my senior year, but when I started dabbling with graphics and realized I didn’t need a degree to work as a freelancer, I figured I could just stay here. At least I didn’t have to pay rent or live with some obnoxious frat guy who only cared about how many girls he could sleep with before the semester was through.”

  Kyla rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know the type. I met a few of those myself. Obnoxious isn’t the word I’d use, though. More like, immature jerks. I always made sure to stay away from those, while my roommate was all about frat guys.”

  He didn’t comment to that. He just smiled and returned his attention to the cake. Silence fell between them, but it wasn’t the awkward kind between people who didn’t know what to say, more like a companionable kind of silence of two people enjoying each other’s company.

  “Sugarpuff seems to like Bear,” Kyla said after a few minutes. She was scared that now they’d polished off their plates he would ask her to leave. She didn’t want to go just yet. She wanted to spend more time with him, catch up like old friends who hadn’t seen each other in a while—even though, technically, they weren’t friends when they were in high school. “She’s never had doggy friends and I thought she’d be scared of such a big dog.”

  Sugarpuff had climbed on top of Bear’s back, but the bigger dog didn’t seem to mind that his new friend was pawing at his muzzle and acting as if he were her personal horse, while he probably only wanted to sleep.

  “Dogs are smarter than humans. They don’t care about appearances.” Caleb’s tone was low, as if he were talking to himself more than to her. She was sure he was referring to the town residents and what they said about him and his family.

  “You know this is a town of legends. You can’t blame them for thinking you’re stashing a treasure somewhere on your land.”

  His eyes narrowed and turned darker as he stared straight at her. “Not that I need to justify myself to anyone, but the money comes from wise investments, not from pirates. My grandfather made money with smart financial moves and then he passed it on. No curse, treasures, or anything.” He shrugged. “So you see, the real story is way more boring than the version that’s been going around all these years.”

  Kyla smiled. “It is. I think I prefer the one with the curse, so I’ll pretend you didn’t say anything.”

  The light returned to his eyes as the corners of his lips curled. She let out a mental sigh of relief. Maybe he wouldn’t ask her to leave.

  “I think there might be a curse, in a way. People have been avoiding us, I never really had friends, and even after I’ve come back to town, most people stay away from this place.”

  Sadness veiled his tone, and she wanted to reach out and hug him. He didn’t deserve the way people had been treating him all his life.

  “I’m not saying I don’t like being left alone, but it would be nice to have someone to talk to other than Bear. He’s smart, but I don’t speak dog, so our conversations are pretty short.”

  A laugh burst out of her so loudly that Bear lifted his head, nearly jerking Sugarpuff off his back. She brought a hand to her mouth, her cheeks turning hot. Then Caleb laughed with her, and shame gave way to an unusual sense of ease, like she felt when she was with Conor or even with Jack. Yet, there was something more. Some kind of warmth that enveloped her heart, that made her never want to go back to New York, to forget why she’d left the town in the first place, and to just spend her days eating cake in his back garden. She had no business feeling that way, though. She had a life in the city and she had to go back and get that promotion.

  “So, yeah, it’s nice to spend time with someone who speaks my language, for once. Thanks for agreeing to stay.”

  Aww. How could she possibly not swoon, now that he was looking like an adorable shy kid?

  “Are you saying you don’t hang out with anyone in town? Ever?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “It’s not like I never set foot outside my property. I do go into town every now and then. Spending Saturday nights alone in the pub is quite pathetic, though. I go to the movie nights in the park, though. Bear sits on the blanket next to me, so I’m not completely alone. Even though he spends most of the movie snoring beside me.”

  “They still do that? The movie nights?”

  He nodded. “Every last Friday of the month, as usual.”

  She was surprised to discover that the event she’d looked forward to, every month, before she’d left town, was still happening. For two years, every single month she’d been h
oping Caleb would ask her out, to watch a movie with him. She’d envisioned him picking her up and strolling hand in hand to Providence Park, where they would sit on a checkered blanket and eat microwave buttered popcorn while the movie played on the big screen. At some point, their hands would brush as they reached inside the bag, they would smile awkwardly, and she would blush. Then he would lean in and brush her lips with his. Now it seemed just a stupid teenage fantasy that had kept her wishing for two endless years. Even when she went with her friends, she’d never stopped looking around, hoping to spot Caleb. He would always be sitting in a quiet spot away from the rest of the spectators and although she’d been tempted to walk up to him, in hopes he’d ask her to join him on his blanket, she never did.

  “Kyla? Are you alright?”

  His voice broke into the faraway memories, and she blinked them away. She met his amused eyes and hoped she hadn’t voiced her thoughts while she was daydreaming.

  “Sorry, I was…um…did you say something?”

  His brows furrowed. Great. She’d just made a fool of herself. Now he’d think she wasn’t interested in what he was saying and she’d voluntarily ignored him. She had probably just blown her chance at getting closer to him and—

  “I asked if you’d like to go with me this Friday.”

  Her jaw dropped, and she hoped the fork clattering on the plate drowned out the sound of her gasp.

  Caleb had no idea how he’d managed to say the words once, let alone twice. The fact she’d completely ignored him the first time had all but crushed his heart and killed his resolution. Then he’d seen the way her eyes seemed to be unfocused, as if she was miles away, and he’d realized she hadn’t answered because she hadn’t even heard him.