Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
T
he rest of the meal was relaxed. Even Rufus eventually sprawled out on his side under Willow’s chair with a sigh and went to sleep.
All the tension that had been lingering in the bottom of Tripp’s stomach was gone. Being around Willow was so easy. She’d always been like that. A warm, supportive presence whenever she’d popped back into his life over the years.
“Now don’t get too excited, but I have some leftover blueberry cornmeal muffins for dessert.”
“Too late. Already excited.”
She chuckled under her breath and rose with her plate. Tripp stood and took it from her. “Nope,” he said when she opened her mouth to protest. “You prepped and cooked and served. I’ll clean up.”
She lifted her chin. “It’s my house. My rules. And maybe I like things done a certain way. Especially dishes.”
No maybe about it. “Fine, then you can stand watch and supervise.”
“Or you could just let me take care of it later.”
He held her gaze, that soul-deep attraction simmering inside. Did she feel it too? “Fine, we can do it together then. Final offer.”
She gave a decisive nod. “Done. But let’s go check out this fence first. Come on, Rufus.”
The dog scrambled out from under the table, giving him a wary stare as he hurried over to Willow. Tripp followed them out back into the fading sunlight.
“Oh, it looks fantastic,” she said, her happy smile hitting him hard and fast. “There you go, Rufus, go check it out, buddy.”
The second she let Rufus off his leash he trotted around his domain, sniffing at the worn grass along the perimeter. He spotted the holes right away. His ears went up, and he walked over to investigate. Within seconds, he figured out how to use them.
“Oh my God! That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” she gushed, whipping out her phone to take pictures. “They’re the perfect height. You’re a genius, Tripp.”
He loved the way his name sounded in her voice. “It was your idea.”
“I know, but still.” She patted his shoulder, and he felt a streak of sensation along his arm. “We’re a good team.”
They were. They’d be great together. He’d always thought so.
And dammit, there was that word again.
“Aww, he loves them,” she said, and rushed past him for the gate. Tripp stopped next to it and watched her run around the other side of the fence to take pictures of Rufus’s nose sticking through the biggest, lower circle, her giggles of delight making him grin. “Oh my God, worth every penny.”
“Nope, no pennies involved.”
She stopped, looked up at him over the top of the fence. “What?”
“It’s no charge.”
“No way. You did a job for me—”
“I was happy to help. It took me all of what, forty minutes? And besides, you made me dinner. We’re even.”
She stood there looking like she was trying to come up with an argument.
“Just so we’re clear, there are no circumstances under which I would take any of your money.”
“All right,” she finally relented. “But I’m sending you home with extra muffins.”
He grinned. “I won’t say no to that.”
They left Rufus in the yard to enjoy his new lookouts. Tripp stood at the patio door at the back of the house, watching him do his recon. “He seems to like them.”
“I know, it’s adorable.” Willow was busy buttering the split muffins she’d just toasted. “All right, dessert—such as it is—is served. You gotta come eat them over here with me, though, because I just vacuumed.”
He joined her at the kitchen sink. They stood side by side eating the tender, crumbly muffins over it. He groaned as he swallowed the first buttery, slightly crunchy bite. “These are...amazing.” He’d caught himself from saying great just in time.
One side of her mouth pulled up in a knowing smirk. “Glad you like ’em. These are my go-to in the summer. There’s a blueberry bush in the corner of the yard, but the birds pretty much picked it clean before I got here. Next year, they’re all mine.”
He finished his muffin in a few bites, pausing to suck the melted butter from a fingertip. He caught her staring at his mouth. The kind of stare that sent heat spiraling through him.
They were standing so close he saw her pupils dilate.
Need pooled low in his gut. And when her big brown eyes lifted to his, it took an act of will not to slide his hand around the nape of her neck and draw her in for the kiss he’d been dreaming about since he was sixteen.
She stepped back before he could move and cleared her throat, busied herself wiping invisible crumbs from the countertop. “Want a quick tour of the rest of the house before you go?”
Not the most subtle way of telling him it was time to leave, but it was for the best. “Sure.”
It wasn’t a big place, but she’d moved her own furniture in, and with the new paint, it had a cozy, uncluttered feel.
“And this is my studio.” She flipped on the light and walked into a room painted a soft, cheery yellow.
Paint racks full of tubes and bottles of acrylics lined the far wall. A wide desk held an assortment of jars filled with various brushes, and a large canvas was waiting on an easel beside the desk.
“I was just finishing up putting a coat of varnish on the chairs when you got here.”
He turned to where the two Adirondacks were set on a painting cloth at the far side of the room to dry. His eyebrows went up. “Whoa. You did these?”
“With Bronwyn and Mae. They helped with the base coat and some of the details.”
“This is not what I expected when you said you’d been painting chairs.”
“What did you expect?”
“Plain red or blue or yellow or something.” Instead they were painted in a mix of moody blues and purples, looking like something out of a fairytale with whales breaching out of the water under the glow of a full moon shimmering across the water.
The slats of the backrest were close together enough that one had a humpback painted on it, dozens of water droplets sparkling as they dripped off its body.
Whimsical flowers glowed in the foreground, framing the image.
The other showed an orca and a sea otter in a bay, moonlight glistening on their wet bodies.
“The orca one’s an artistic interpretation of Shipwreck Cove. Anyway, these are going to go out on the porch. I was going to put them out front, but now I’m thinking out back would be better. They’ll get more use back there.”
He shook his head, impressed as hell. “These are amazing. You could sell these in a heartbeat for five hundred each, easy.”
She looked at him, seeming unsure. “Yeah?”
He nodded. “Either through social media and your contacts here, or at the Saturday market in town.” And once word of mouth spread, she could wind up being busier than she bargained for too.
She rubbed the back of her neck. “I guess I could do that. Not these, though. They’re sentimental. Belonged to my grandma, and now they make me think of Bronwyn and Mae too.”
“How did I never realize you were this talented?”
Her cheeks flushed. “Oh, come on. These were just a fun project.”
“No, I mean it. What about the rest of these? Are they yours too?” He gestured to the framed canvases hung on the walls.
Whimsical seascapes and little village scenes with that same magical flare she’d worked on the chairs.
People here would pay big money for this kind of work, especially for scenes depicting the island.
“Yes. I’ve been meaning to start that blank canvas since I got here, but I’ve been so busy. Painting these chairs has given me the bug again though.”
He nodded, still blown away by her skill. “I know the feeling, and what it’s like to have a creative blockage when life gets in the way. Always a huge relief when things start flowing once you get back into it after taking a break.”
She gave him a soft smile. “Yeah, exactly.” She crossed her arms. “I still want to see your work. And maybe visit your workshop sometime.”
“Anytime.” They stared at each other for a long moment, until the silence started to become awkward. Reminding him she’d hinted about him leaving. “I should get going.”
“Sure.”
He went to the front door to put his shoes on. Thinking about her work. The way she’d stared at his mouth earlier. About all the connections and history they shared.
And the terrible secret that could tear them apart forever.
He should let things be, just be grateful that she was here on the island again, and that she still wanted to be his friend. But he wanted more.
Way more. Wanted it so bad it consumed him.
It was playing with fire. Would end in disaster. But even though his gut warned him that either he or both of them were going to get burned at some point, it still wasn’t enough of a reason to make him keep his distance.
“You busy tomorrow?” he asked.
“Other than Rufus and maybe some painting, no. Why?”
“It’s gonna be another hot one. You been out on the water yet since you got here?”
Interest sparkled in her eyes. “Just on the ferry.”
“We can do better than that. I’ll text you the details once I have them, but plan to meet up around noon. Sound good?”
The smile she gave him made his heart thud, hope building with painful pressure under his ribs. “Sounds great.”
Rufus barked when he heard someone at the front of the house. He ran to the fence and stuck his snoot through the bottom hole in the fence, watching the driveway through the two smaller ones above it. He loved his new snoot and peeper holes!
Tall Man got into a big truck and drove off. Rufus watched it go, wishing he could be inside it. He loved car rides.
When it had gone, he ran around the yard, checking all the other snoot and peeper holes. He snorted in frustration at the back fence. No snoot or peeper holes here.
He hopped up on his hind feet, putting his front paws on the wood to sniff. Short ones, then deep, long ones to try and read the scents on the air.
The smells from before were gone.
He dropped back to the ground and hurried around to the closest peeper holes in the fence, trying to see around into the trees.
“Rufus,” Nice Lady called from behind him.
He kept looking toward the trees, trying to see what was happening. Couldn’t.
“Rufus, come on, buddy. Time for walkies.”
Walkies? Oh boy!
He whipped around and raced back to the house, where Nice Lady was waiting for him with his leash. Up the porch he loped, then sat while she clipped the leash on. Rufus good boy.
“That’s a good boy,” she crooned. “Good sit, Rufus.” She stroked his head.
Yisss. He liked that. Was very proud she had noticed his sit.
At first he hadn’t been sure of Nice Lady or understood what she wanted from him. The first few nights he hadn’t liked being inside the house to sleep. But Nice Lady gave him food, her voice was soft, and Rufus had his very own warm and squishy bed inside.
Sleeping inside might be better than sleeping outside. He could protect Nice Lady better inside.
His tail wagged as they walked out the front door and down the front steps. Rufus looked back at the trees behind the house. Took another few sniffs as they walked up the road.
No. The smell from before was gone. No more deep voices.
When they got home, Rufus would use the snoot and peeper holes to make sure Bad Man hadn’t come back.