Against the Wall (Stoddard Art School Series Book 3) (11 page)

“Timber,” he breathed. “I…better go.”

Kay nodded. Her ability to speak, gone. She reached back with one steadying hand to grasp the doorframe.

Bear whistled for Shadow who emerged from the woods even dirtier than when he went in. Bear grabbed his collar before the dog could spread his love of mud and give her his own good night kiss.

The light was fading, turning their perfect day into evening. Bear stood for a moment as if he were reluctant to put an end to what might easily turn into a night of beginnings. He seemed to give himself a mental shake before speaking to the dog. “Come on, boy, home.” Shadow bolted from Bear’s grasp and took off in the direction of the point. Bear held her gaze a moment longer. “Think about Thursday. I want you to come.”

She pressed her lips together again and nodded.
I think I just did…

Kay arrived early to the inn the next afternoon. After missing a day of work, she was eager to catch up. Who was she kidding? She was eager to see Bear. Last night’s heated tongue tango on the porch had inspired a night of semi-erotic dreams that left her sweaty and frustrated as hell.

She was no virgin, and she and Todd had a fair sex life, but she’d never been so turned on by the mere thought of a man. Bear’s kisses sent her libido into orbit. Zero to sixty in one point eight seconds. She’d been hesitant to start something with him for a host of valid, sound, logical reasons, but for the life of her, when his lips met hers, she couldn’t remember a one.

When she entered the lobby, Bear was on his phone.

“Bell. Harbor. Inn.
Bell Harbor
…Yes, Maine. You’re joking, right? They were due last week. I’ve got fourteen beds here with no mattresses.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair before turning and spotting her. A look crossed his face, which she didn’t quite understand until his gaze slowly scanned her body down to her ankles and back again. Was she naked? She felt naked. Warmth flooded her face as his eyes held hers. “Beds without mattresses do me no good at all.” There was a decided huskiness to his voice.

His eyebrows rose sharply. “Inflatables? Did you just say
inflatables
? Listen, what’s your name? Tom? Okay, Tom, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to personally hike your ass down to the warehouse and put my order on a truck. Have it to my inn by the end of the week, even if you have to drive it here yourself. Got it? Thank you… That would be great. For you, Tom, I’ll try.” Bear clicked off the phone and threw it onto the desk. He blew out a sharp breath.

Curiosity got the better of her. “You’ll try what?”

“To have a nice day.” He rubbed the space between his eyes. “Did you know there is a Bell Harbor Inn in Bell Harbor, Michigan?”

Kay laughed and pulled a roll of brushes from their spot. “I do now.”

“Seems they have my mattresses and box springs, and instead of refusing the delivery, someone signed for them before they realized no one had ordered fourteen new mattresses and box springs.” He held up a sheet of paper. “But that didn’t stop the company from charging my account.”

Kay selected a handful of brushes she’d be using today and laid them out according to size. “And in the meantime, they want you to use blow-up ones?”

“Yep.” He gave his head a slow shake. “Classic.” He rummaged through some more papers on top of his cluttered desk. “Buy an inn, they said, it will be fun,” he muttered.

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” He looked up at her and smiled. “You’re the best thing to walk through that door all day.” He checked the clock. “And you’re early.”

“Need to make up for playing hooky.” Kay moved her wheeled paint cart/palette into place. It contained all manner of tubes and pots of paint, more brushes, and anything else she would want at her fingertips. She grabbed a clean rag and slipped it into the back pocket of her jeans.

“A day off isn’t hooky. Could be I’m a bad influence.”

She uncapped a tube of classic dark red and added a large dollop to her board. “Could be.” Using a palette knife, she mixed the red with a touch of brown, a whisper of gray. Kay loaded her one-inch brush with paint. Today, she’d finish up painting the brick skirt of the bandstand before adding in each musician.

Kay shot him a quick smile as she moved in closer to the wall. “I had a wonderful time yesterday.”

He was watching her intently. She looked away but could still feel his gaze on her skin. Kay stood poised waiting for the tremor in her hand to stop before she put paint to wall.

“So did I.”

There was something in his tone that made her look back at him. He leaned against the corner of his desk in a casual pose. One foot hooked over the other. Arms crossed over his wide chest. Kay could just make out the very bottom of his tattoo beneath the sleeve of his crisp white T-shirt.

Another thing that kept her awake last night. Not the shirt hugging him like a second skin, but his damn tattoo. He’d never removed his shirt on the beach yesterday. She’d been dying to ask. Instead, she’d spent those quiet hours between one and three in the morning wondering about his ink, his skin, his body.

“Made for an interesting night, however,” he added.

Wait, what?
Was he a mind reader? “Oh?” It had been an interesting night, all right. Moving away from the wall, she swapped her brush to the other hand and reached for a rag to stuff in her pocket only to realize she already had one.

Bear straightened and stepped away from the desk toward her. “Didn’t sleep a wink.”

She swallowed trying to ease the sudden dryness of her mouth. “You, too?”

His head tipped. “You had trouble sleeping as well? Fascinating.” He took a step closer, and Kay’s heart rate clicked up a notch or two. “We really need to work on this. Mutual insomnia. Damn. Can’t be good for either of us.” He shook his head and considered her. “There are some things we could try. Might help.”

Her breathing hitched. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“Nothing drastic.” He moved closer. He oozed sexuality—like a freaking fire hydrant. She was drenched. “Warm milk works well,” he suggested. “Maybe a touch of brandy?” There was that little glint of mischief in his eyes she’d come to adore. “Or…there are some who swear by a bit of physical activity.”

“Before bed?” she asked.

“
In
bed.”

If he was trying to fluster her, he’d succeeded. The slight tip of his lips confirmed it. Well, two could play at this game. She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “But you have no mattresses.”

He nodded solemnly. “Could be an issue.” He was close enough now she needed to lift her eyes to look into the hazel of his. “I’ll have to give this some more thought.” His voice was smooth as marshmallow Fluff.

“Isn’t giving this some thought
why
you’re having trouble sleeping?” She raised an eyebrow and tsked. “Sounds like a vicious circle to me.” She traced an O in the middle of his chest with her fingertip.

He caught her wrist. “You don’t play fair, Kay Winston.”

Her breath left her in a rush. “Neither do you.”

“What? I’m the Prince of Fair.” Bear feigned an innocent look. He couldn’t pull it off.

“Not when you kiss like you do.” Had the temperature in the room risen? Her cheeks were hot.

He raised her hand and placed a slow, gentle kiss on the inside of her wrist. “You’re complaining?” The tip of his tongue skimmed her skin there.

Heat shot clear to her thighs. “No—they…I… Never mind.” Her face flamed. “M-my paint is drying.”

“Forget the paint.” He moved still closer, lifting her hand to drape it over his shoulder while he slipped an arm about her waist. “Tell me. What do my kisses do?”

“I stop breathing,” she admitted in a whisper.

“I see.”

Had she noticed the way his hair was just long enough to curl around her fingertips before?

“Another vicious circle,” he murmured. “You stop breathing, I have to give you mouth to mouth—vicious circle.”

“I’m starting to hate those.” She sighed.

“Me, too.” His gaze fell to her mouth as he bent to kiss her. “Me, too.” The words skipped over her lips.

“Hey, Yogi!”

Kay pushed away from Bear as if she’d been burned. The muscle in Bear’s jaw ticked as he growled a colorful obscenity about the legitimacy of Walter’s birth. Kay was back studying her paints before the man in question pushed through the swinging door between the lobby and the kitchen.

“There ye be. Got the name of that stonemason fella I was—What in the hell! Were ya shot?”

“Aw, shit.”

Kay spun around horrified. A large spot of classic dark red paint with a hint of brown and a whisper of gray decorated Bear’s shirt. She’d been so engrossed in the prospect of his lips against hers, she’d completely forgotten about the brush in her hand. Bear looked like a gunshot victim. Walter was looking back and forth between the two of them with a frown on his face as if he was trying to figure out just how her paint had jumped those eight feet to land on Bear’s chest.

Kay dropped her brush into the wash cup. “Give me your shirt before it dries.”

Bear obliged, and in one smooth move, grasped the back collar of his tee and pulled it off. Kay had seen him without his shirt before, but it had been from a distance…at dusk…while he ran the beach. The sight of Bear’s naked chest and abs this close…it was so unladylike to drool. Dark hair accented the play of muscles at the center of his chest and led her gaze to follow its sinful trail past his toned stomach to a clear line running straight down into the waistband of his jeans. The clean smell of his skin filled her senses.

His tattoo was nothing like she imagined. A round Celtic design hugged the curve of his shoulder. The work was crisp and intricate with acorns gracing an inter-woven ring around the dark silhouette of a tree. A clean scar sliced through the symbol and distorted the lettering which arched along the top of the branches.
O’nert
was all she could make out at quick glance, but the artistry was beautiful in deep greens and black with touches of yellow in the lettering to give it the appearance of gold. She wondered what the words meant.

Handing her his stained shirt, Bear grabbed a zippered sweatshirt from the back of the desk chair and slipped it on over all those well-defined muscles.
Damn.

“Special Kay, you all right?”

She’d forgotten Walter was even in the room. “Sure, sure.” Heat rushed to her face, and other much less visible places. “Nothing a little mouth to mouth couldn’t cure,” she said under her breath as she headed past Bear in the direction of the nearest bathroom. His strangled cough behind her made her smile.

In the restroom, Kay ran water through the cotton, washing away most of the paint. Dark red ran into the sink staining the porcelain. The smell of him still clung to the fabric. She pulled the intoxicating scent deep into her lungs before obliterating it with the pink industrial hand soap she pumped from the dispenser affixed to the wall. With a bit of scrubbing, she was able to get rid of the remaining stain of paint.

Rinsing and wringing out the sodden shirt, Kay caught her reflection in the mirror over the sink. Her eyes were bright, cheeks flushed, her slight panicked expression had nothing to do with worries about a ruined shirt.

She searched her eyes looking for the answer to the question her heart and her body had already answered—she was in trouble. Serious trouble. She was falling for him.

Chapter Thirteen

By the time five p.m. rolled around, Bear Coulter didn’t know if he was riding a horse or bowling. He’d gone from wanting to play naked finger paints with Kay to her disappearing for the rest of the afternoon.

Walter hadn’t helped matters. When he heard the tale of the missing mattresses, he knew a guy who knew a guy who could get him mattresses for
short bucks
. Did it matter if they were slightly used?

Skippy fumbled a nail gun and accidently shot a finish nail into Brian’s ass. Brian accidently broke Skippy’s nose. Diane called twice, and Shadow had rolled in something muddy, or dead…it sure smelled dead, but Bear hoped like hell it was mud.

It had been one disaster after another. He’d sent Walter home, Skippy and Brian to the ER, hosed off Shadow, and ignored Diane when caller ID alerted him to call number three. He was home now, back from his run, two beers into a six pack, and ready to throw something frozen into the microwave for dinner. Changing his mind, he reached for a third beer instead. A gentle knock on his deck door brought an instant cure for his day from hell.

Kay.

She lifted a hand in a wave when she saw him through the glass. In her other hand she held his shirt from earlier. Opening the slider, he slipped out and shut the door behind him.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Sorry to bother you. I’m headed back to the inn, but I wanted to return your shirt.” She handed it to him. It was clean and folded. Did she iron it?

“Thanks. It was just an old shirt, you didn’t need to go to all that trouble.”

“I have to watch where I rest my brush from now on.”

“It didn’t hurt a bit. Want to come in? Shadow’s grounded, but I’m sure he’d love to see you. I was thinking about thawing some dinner.” He lifted his bottle. “The beer’s cold. You’re welcome to stay.”

“No thanks, I’m working. Guess my night watchman is off duty tonight. What did he do to get himself grounded?”

“I have no idea. He’s not talking, but whatever it was, it stank like the devil and wore him the hell out.”

“Sounds like he could use the night off.” She nodded and folded her arms over her chest.

It got quiet. The only sound was the waves hitting the rocks on the point. Bear followed her gaze in that direction. He lifted his beer and took a swallow before continuing. “Where’d you disappear to today?”

That earned him a shrug. “I had a shirt to clean.”

“Couldn’t have anything to do with this obvious thing we’ve got going on between us.”

“Thing?” She chewed at her lower lip.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from that lip. “I’m not sure what else to call it.”

Kay tucked her chin. “How about we don’t call it anything.”

“I don’t know if we can ignore it any more. I know I can’t.”