Summer's Road (24 page)

Al from the little Ma and Pa hardware store down the road had put in some new black and white checkered tile flooring for me this morning. Last night, I had stayed until near the crack of dawn putting a new paint color on the walls, so it would be done before installers got here. Stepping back to analyze the pale lilac color, I nodded in satisfaction. I’d added a heavy cream tone and blended it together with a fan brush stroke, making the area appear more like wallpaper. I wanted to have the space presentable by this time tomorrow, so I could announce it at the art benefit.

There were still a few things left to do, but I needed to head home for that first. Beyond excited at the prospect, I’d ordered fifteen easels from an art supply warehouse I had used in the past for bulk items. They were sitting at home, having arrived with the brushes and acrylic paint I’d also ordered.

Through the years, I had kept some of my students’ work. I’d decided that a photo and painting of each child who had passed away from my class would get a spot on the back wall. Forever frozen in place, forever young. A donation box for my charities would be set up by the front door on the glass case. There was a greeting card program Rick had installed on my computer at home, so I could convert my older paintings into cards. Not one to work with watercolor often, I had very few of them, but they would make the better choice for stationery. Those would go in the glass case under the counter.

Grinning fully, I sighed. My place. My own place. How many times had I thought about doing this? Now it was real.

Best of all, I’d never have to argue with the school board again about my art therapy program. I would still teach at the high school and elementary school—I needed the income—but my Saturday classes were being moved here.

Turning full circle, I grinned again. Now, to run home and shower, pick up the stuff, and turn it from an empty space to
Quinn’s Place
. That’s what I had decided to call it. I wanted to shout it to the world. To tell everyone that…

Aside from Rick, no one knew yet. The parents wouldn’t hear the news until tomorrow night. I had my suspicions Ian knew, but we hadn’t had a conversation about it.

And the day after tomorrow, Matt was supposed to come.

Ian

T
he two weeks following our trip to Seasmoke had gone by in a blink. I finally, after years of hoping and pining, had her in my arms. She still snuck out of bed in the mornings because she was a much early riser than me and she held back a part of herself, but I had her. Everything I’d wanted. We ate dinner at her place, slept at mine. Had amazing, mind-blowing sex. The friendship had held and we talked as always. Our schedules, for the most part, meshed well. We...were making it work. I’d done everything in my power to show her we could do this.

Yet...she was withdrawing from me. Little things adding up to big things. I had no idea why. We clicked on every level. I had given everything in me to show her what she meant to me. Her medication was working fine, but I couldn’t shake what would happen if the depression returned and I couldn’t bring her back.

I sighed, pushing away from the desk in my shop office and paced.

Rick had told me about her new studio this morning. Instead of grinding out my frustration in my workshop, I’d come to my store and played with some things for her. I glanced at the east wall of the back room as if I could see through it and down the block to where her place was located. Summer hadn’t said a word. That hurt. Gutted, actually. We’d talked in passing about her idea. Because it had been a wistful daydream of hers, I’d given my two cents on the subject, but it had been more than a year since she’d brought it up. And then she just up and did it. Without saying a thing to me.

Someday, those guards of hers would come down. I could only hope the damage to us wouldn’t be irreparable.

“Can I come in?”

Christ, and there she was, covered in purple paint and looking nervous. Of all things, nervous.
With me
. My stupid, naive heart thumped behind my ribs, regardless of the injury she kept doling the organ.

I ran my hands through my hair. I’d seen her this morning, but I ached to touch her. Anger battled with need inside me. “Yeah, come in.” I sat down.

She took two steps and stopped. Her gaze landed on my desk, to the laptop I’d left open. An interesting display of emotion fluttered over her face before she locked gazes with me.

“Rick told me,” I said before she could question what was on the screen.

“I should have told you myself.”

“Yes, you should have.” I didn’t bother keeping the irritation from my tone. She’d hurt me, even if she hadn’t meant to. A few beats passed, and I couldn’t take the silence. “Why didn’t you?”

“I thought you might try to talk me out of it.”

Of all the stupid... “What the hell, Summer?”

Rubbing her forehead, she stared at the carpet. “You hate that I do the therapy program.”

My teeth gnashed. “Wrong. I hate what it does to you. More over, I hate your reasons for doing it.”

Her blue eyes met mine, confusion in her brow. “What does that mean?”

I leaned forward. “I mean your twisted sense of guilt.” I hesitated, then decided to go for broke. If I wanted her to talk to me, I needed to extend an olive branch, too. “What you do with those kids is admirable. You give them joy and support on a level their families and doctors can’t. The benefit, the class, it’s selfless, just like you. Not many people would go to the lengths you do for what might pan out to be a hopeless effort.” I stared into her eyes, wanting for all the world for her to really hear me. “But none of it will bring your dad back. And his death wasn’t your fault.”

Her eyes filled, lips trembling. I forced myself to stay in my chair when every ingrained instinct told me to pull her in my arms. Blinking repeatedly, she glanced away.

I fisted my hands. “No matter what you do, sweetheart, I will support you. Whether it’s your benefit, a new studio, or you want to visit the Mayan ruins and do a tribal mating ritual—“ there, a watery laugh “—I will support you. Even if I think you’re wrong or I don’t agree. Understand me?”

Pressing her palms to her eyes, she nodded repeatedly. Then, she launched herself at me, climbing into my lap and burying her face in my neck, arms banding around my head.

And Christ, just like that, my world righted. We weren’t okay, not by a long shot, but she was starting to figure out what I’d been telling her all along. I loved her so damn much I couldn’t breathe. I’d thought about telling her a trillion times since we’d made love the first time, but I didn’t think she was ready to hear it yet.

I held her a moment more and kissed her temple. “Want to see what I’ve been working on?”

She eased back and kissed me, holding my jaw as if I might bolt. Pulling away, she stared into my eyes and I got lost in the sapphire twilight of hers for elongated minutes. Hours. Years. She drew in a breath and...smiled.

Turning her focus to my laptop, she stared at the Web site for her studio I had been playing with. That kind of thing she wouldn’t have thought of herself. She probably would have known what color paint she wanted on the walls, how she was going to arrange everything, but she wouldn’t think of the business end. That was my expertise. When I’d opened my shop, she did everything to make it presentable, to look good. I made it run and thrive.

“You did that for me? A Web site?”

I’d do anything for you. Why can’t you see that?

I cleared my throat. “Yep. It hasn’t launched yet because it needs your approval first. There’s some other things I played with, too.” Reaching around her, not wanting her to climb off my lap, I tapped a few keys and showed her the site first. “I’ll change the background color to that purple you have all over your hair.” I grinned. With a couple finger taps, I switched it.

“Not purple. Lilac.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. Cute, that.

I kissed her briefly on the mouth. “Whatever.”

As we went over the rest of the site, she made comments here and there, but didn’t want anything changed. The header of each page read
Quinn’s Place
, with a child-sized hand print in paint before it and a paint brush after as an exclamation point.

“I love that,” she said. “I’m going to use that for the sign on the door.”

I nodded and she read through her bio on the second page with a picture of her and her father at the bottom. Before the threat of tears could come again, I clicked over to the page which had sampling pictures of her art, and the page with photos of her and the kids. “The links to your two charities are here and on the home page.”

“Can we add a page? I’m going to convert my watercolors into some greeting cards. Can customers buy them online, too?”

“Sure.” I set about doing that. I linked credit card apps to her account after she gave me the account info and added a PayPal option. I copied the watercolor prints from her art page to the store to display the samples. “There’s also a page with a downloadable enrollment form for kids to sign up. I’ll make copies to put in the studio.”

She was quiet a moment. “You thought of everything, didn’t you?”

I looked at her, really looked at her. She still didn’t fully get it, the lengths I’d go to for her, but she would. Hell, she’d do the same for me, and had.

I jerked my chin to the desk. “Look at this. It’s for the benefit tomorrow night.”

She picked up the folder with her logo on the front, ran her hand over the child handprint and lettering displaying her studio name. With avid interest, I watched her go through the brochure and business cards I’d printed, along with the enrollment form.

“There’s a hundred more over there to pass out at the benefit.”

She looked at the box on the floor and then back to me, bewilderment and awe in her eyes. “I…” She hook her head. “I don’t know what to say, Ian. This is all…I can’t thank you enough. How did you get all the information?”

“Rick. You also told me a lot about your ideas awhile back. I remembered.”

She cupped my face. “Thank you.” She opened her mouth to say more, and my chest thumped in anticipation, but she just shook her head and dropped a kiss on my lips. “Thank you.”

Summer

I
hung my dress for tomorrow night inside the closet door. Dee, awesome friend that she was, had found me the perfect ensemble. Turning my head, I smiled in admiration at my latest painting. This one would
not
go on sale tomorrow, and was worth every moment of sleeplessness to complete. I had barely resisted the urge to run over to Dee’s place the moment I’d finished. Tomorrow night, I’d give it to Rick and Dee when we had a quiet moment.

The chimes in my window tinkled. A fresh breeze blew in, smelling faintly of wildflowers and rain. I needed air and to wind down, so I picked up my glass of sweet tea and headed downstairs.

Sitting on my front porch steps, I breathed in humid summer air and closed my eyes. The crickets had died down and fireflies blinked in the distance. The creek behind the house ran steady over the crinkle of leaves whirring in the breeze. Stars twinkled overhead, too many for counting. Perfection.

My cell phone chirped in my pocket. I pulled it out and hesitated to answer after glancing at the display. My stomach churned. “Hi, Matt.”

“Hey, beautiful. Will you be around Sunday morning?”

Nervous tension crept up my spine. He’d given me two weeks and time was up. I’d been so distracted I’d almost forgotten. But, it would close a chapter in my life. Both of us needed to move on, and he deserved a face to face. “Yes. You coming by?”