Against the Wall (Stoddard Art School Series Book 3) (2 page)

She and Todd had planned to come here for two weeks in July to announce to Dottie and Walter that they were getting married. He’d asked her on Valentine’s Day. He’d brought home two bottles of cheap champagne and a convenience store rose and taken her to bed. The rose he’d stripped as naked as the two of them and showered her and the bed with the crushed red petals. After they’d made love, he’d asked her if she wanted “to get hitched.” He’d joked afterward that it had been the champagne talking. He’d gotten carried away in the moment, but “what the hell, why not?” They were already living together.

It wasn’t the proposal of every girl’s dream, but he swore he loved her. And she loved him. So what if he didn’t get down on one knee and present a little black velvet box with a stunning diamond ring nestled inside. That was only for cheesy romantic movies. She was much more pragmatic.

Kay ran a thumb over the tender tip of her finger. Over the sensitive spot where the rose’s thorn had drawn blood. When she’d found Todd and Gwen in bed three days ago. He’d pulled all the petals from a cheap, convenience store red rose and sprinkled them in the sheets. Kay found the stripped stem on the hallway rug moments before she heard them. Saw them.

Crushing it in her fist, its thorns stabbed deep into her finger. Deep into her heart. She never felt it. She was numb.

Damn, I should have thanked Gwen—
once she’d climbed down off Todd’s penis, of course. The girl saved her a boatload of misery. Just think, she could have married the dog. Rephrase that. It gave dogs a bad name; she loved dogs.

Stepping out of her car, Kay pulled the heavenly combination of rich pine scent and the crisp tang of the ocean deep into her lungs. She closed her eyes and listened to the hushed rhythm of the waves kissing the beach. It called her name.

Unloading could wait. The draw of the surf was too great. Rushing down the stairs, Kay stepped out onto the pebbled beach that welcomed her like an old friend. The water sat high, but the tide had turned. Smoothed stones glistened in the waning light. The sky, streaked with peach, danced on the tips of the waves.

Tears filled her eyes as a familiar peace settled on her. Was there a more beautiful place on earth? Not to her. It was perfect. Well, almost.

Kay closed her right eye. There, now it was perfect.

She shook her head and laughed at herself. It was silly. She headed back up the steep stairs to her car and retrieved her suitcase. Completely childish. But when you’re twelve and arrive in your personal,
private
playground only to discover someone else in your sandbox, you get to do silly things.

It had been the worst summer. Claire and Charles decided it would be their last vacation here, and it was breaking Kay’s heart. Claire and Dottie argued and stopped speaking for the first time in their friendship, and to put a cherry on top, someone dropped a house on the point like twister residue from
The Wizard of Oz
.

Modern and sleek—it was the ugliest thing she’d ever seen. With stark lines and oversized gaping windows, it was cold and lifeless. In all the years she’d been coming here, she’d never spotted a soul out there. Dottie said the couple who owned it didn’t come up until the last few weeks of August, which is why she never saw them. They were nice according to her, but Kay never even asked their names.

They’d invaded her territory. Her best
thinking spot
sat out there beyond the house, at the tip of the point. How was she supposed to think out there with that…that icebox of a house hogging all the space?

Kay dropped the last carton onto the painted wood floor and pushed the hair out of her face. She’d started a small fire to take the months of chill from the place. After pulling all the dust covers off the faded hodgepodge of furniture, she lugged her paints and supplies up the narrow flight of stairs to her studio. The second bedroom originally, it still had the single iron bed set along the back wall, but now it served as her work area when she was here. Set on the seaward side of the house, the morning light shone brilliantly, and the view of the cove was magnificent. As long as she closed her eye.

Kay raised the window and pushed aside the sheer curtains that danced on the evening’s breeze. The sun set, pulling the last of the peach-tinged sky with it. The soft navy blue of night settled in to blanket the darkening sea. She blinked. Both eyes.

Were there lights in the point house?

Chapter Two

Kay woke and stretched beneath the snuggly warmth of the homespun quilt. The only sounds were the breeze whispering through the treetops and the regular cadence of the waves. She sighed. It had been the first decent sleep she’d had since…since the howler monkey incident.

She shook her head and squeezed her eyes tight against the image burned into her mind’s eye. No, no, no. She wouldn’t let Todd ruin her peace. Not here.

Downstairs, Kay rummaged through the kitchen’s near-empty cupboards. A dusty jar sat in a back corner.
Thank you, God! Instant coffee!
“I’m saved!”

While the kettle did what kettles do, she jotted a short list of what she’d need to survive on her shoestring budget. Coffee had to be first on the list. Caffeine was an absolute essential.

A dozen picture frames were number two. Dottie had agreed to take on some of her sketches. Not much income, but every little bit helped. When she went into town later for a few groceries, she’d swing over to the consignment shop and see about the frames. She’d stop by the copy store as well.

Leafing through her things as she unpacked last night, she’d found six charcoal drawings that would make great gift cards sets. Copies, envelopes, and a little ribbon, and she’d be in business.

She took a tentative sip of the coffee. Covered her mouth as she grimaced.
Damn!
It tasted like someone ran a dead brown crayon through hot water. Eeew! Could coffee go bad? Ick! She stuck out her tongue. Where was a Dunkins when you needed one! Dumping her mug into the sink, she underlined coffee on the list. Three times.

After rinsing out the cup, Kay twisted her long hair into a loose knot and secured it with a clip. The beach was calling. Coffee would have to wait. She loaded a tote and grabbed a towel from the tiny hall closet.

The wide deck running along the back and up one side of the cottage was cool, and moss edged beneath the tower of pine trees that guarded the house. Granite steps led through the thick underbrush. They were chilled and damp against her bare feet.

Bleached white and tumbled by generations of surf, the beach stones were blinding as she stepped out into the morning’s sunshine. They warmed her chilled toes. She dropped her things and headed to the water’s edge. The constant pounding of waves crushed the beach into a coarse, wet sand. Kay dug her heels into the cool rasp. She sighed gazing out to where the sky and the sea blended into one. Gorgeous.

From there the Atlantic stretched clear to Europe. Above, gulls dipped across a perfect blue sky and screeched at one another. Lifting her arms over her head, she reached for that perfect blue and stretched in the sunshine. The crisp bite of salt air filled her lungs.

The morning tide was rising. Each wave reached a few inches closer until its icy fingers tickled Kay’s toes. She shivered. The water was frigid. This was Maine after all. Even in August, the water would numb her feet, and you didn’t stay in long. It took a brave soul—or a foolish one—to swim in the glacial temps in May.

Kay moved back up the beach. The waves wouldn’t reach this far, and the pebbles were smooth, dry, and blissfully warm. She pulled the sketchpad out of her bag and bent to spread out her towel.

The bark of a dog startled her, and she straightened. A large, black Labrador retriever barreled down the beach. He didn’t appear fierce as he raced straight toward her. He almost seemed to be smiling, if dogs indeed smiled. A large pink tongue lolled to one side of its mouth. Still, strange dog, tearing at her full speed. She yelped and held the towel in front of her like a baby-blue terrycloth matador’s cape.

The dog stopped inches away, danced a bit, and then lowered its head to its front paws while leaving its butt waving in the air. Its entire body wagged. It gave a quick, low
woof
, snatched the towel from her grasp, and raced past.

“Hey!”

The dog stopped and assumed the same position as before—this time holding its prize just out of reach. When she stepped toward it, the dog leaped backward and shook her towel as it growled playfully.

“You brat. Give that back.” Kay laughed.

“Shadow! No! Drop it!” the dog’s human shouted as he chased up the beach. He was a big man, wide shoulders, strong legs. He wore a red plaid flannel shirt over a navy T-shirt, both untucked from the waist of dark jeans. Dark brown hair that curled slightly on the ends, morning scruff of a beard. He didn’t look threatening, still—strange man racing in her direction, and she’d already lost her protective cape.

“I’m so sorry,” he huffed. “He bolted as soon as he saw you.” Holding up an empty collar and leash, he shook his head. “He’s a big goof. Won’t hurt you. He just wants to play.”

“Tug o’ war?”

“Yeah, we play tug a lot.” He motioned to the dog that crouched staring at them both expectantly. He gave a quick scan of the area. “If I grab it, he’ll pull and shred your towel.” The man walked a few feet, picked up a bit of driftwood, and held it aloft. “Good thing he’s easily distracted.” The quick flip of his eyebrows and the mischievous glint in his light brown eyes confirmed he was as
goofy
as his dog.

Holding the stick high, he jerked it as if to throw it. The dog dropped the towel and froze. Eyes locked on the prized stick, its body a coiled spring waiting to launch in whichever direction the stick flew.

“Get the stick.” The dog’s owner hurled the bit of driftwood backhanded down the beach. The dog took off like a bullet. Kay followed the impressive arc of the toss as Shadow’s owner snatched her towel off the stones.

“Nice throw.” She reached for the towel from his outstretched hand. He was standing close enough to see that his eyes were more green than brown, and that beneath all that scruff, the man had a gentle cleft in his chin.
Goofy
wasn’t the right word to describe him either. Relaxed? Easy-going? Sexy as hell?

“It’s got a little dog drool.” He didn’t let go. Did he mean to play tug too? “I could clean it and return it later.”

“Not necessary.” When he released it, Kay stuffed the slobbered towel back into her bag as Shadow cheerfully dropped the stick at his owner’s feet.

He picked it up and flung it away again. Wiping his hands on his jeans, he offered her his hand. “I’m Bear.” He jerked his head in the direction of the racing dog. “He’s Shadow. We’re out on the point.” He took her hand in his.

His fingers engulfed hers. His hands were large and rough, but warm and gentle. Her lady parts whispered their approval. “
You
live on the point?”

“Yep, I bought the place last winter. Been here since February.”

“Not too many folks move to Maine in February.”

He laughed and shrugged one shoulder. “Not the sane ones. Figured I might as well see what I was up against right off.” Shadow returned with the stick and gave a quick bark of impatience. “Good boy.” Bear ruffled the dog’s ear, gathered the stick, and threw it even farther. “Go get it.” He looked back at her. “Didn’t catch your name.”

Kay watched the dog. “I didn’t throw it. Fetch isn’t really my game.” She collected the sketchpad and shoved it back into her bag. “Thanks for retrieving my towel, however.”

“You’re not going to tell me who you are?”

She shook her head and started back toward the stairs leading to the cottage.

“What if I promise to keep Shadow on his leash from now on?” he called. “What would you say then?”

She glanced back over one shoulder. Bear and Shadow stood watching. The dog dropped his stick and looked a bit disappointed. So did his owner.

“I’d say,
Good boy
.”

****

“These are wonderful.” Dottie perused the stack of greeting cards and prints while Kay set the table for dinner.

“The cards came out great, didn’t they? Pete at The Copy Corral suggested using the same image in packs of six rather than a mixed set. Made sense. I’ll finish framing the rest of my stuff. You’ll have them by the weekend.”

“The customers are going to love these.”

“Let’s hope,” Kay joked. “I’ve grown pretty fond of eating.” She slipped a polka dot napkin next to each dinner plate. “Speaking of which, everything smells incredible. I can’t tell you the last time I ate a home cooked meal.”

“You know, if things are that tight for you—”

“I’m not taking any of your money. It’s bad enough you’re not charging me commission on the things I’m putting in the shop.” Kay finished laying the silverware.

“Maybe if you talked to your folks—”

Kay snorted. “No.”

“If they understood the situation, I’m sure—”

“No.” Dottie wasn’t the only one who’d mastered
the stare
.

“There’s no shame in—”

“Dottie.” Kay took hold of her hands and held her gaze. “No.”

“You’re a very stubborn young lady, do you know that?”

“Yep. But you love me.” She kissed Dottie’s hands and found some candles to add to the table. Rummaging through the kitchen’s junk drawer, she unearthed a box of blue-tip matches.

“Of course I love you, but I don’t see the difference between staying in their cottage and asking them for help.”

Kay struck the match. The puff of smoke stung her nose as she lit each taper. “They know I come up here on vacation, so my vacation is a little bit longer this summer. I’m paying the water and electric direct, so it’s not like I’m sticking them with the bill.” She blew out the match and tossed it into the sink. “I’ve been the one keeping the place up, taking care of things. How many years has it been since they came here? They care about that cottage about as much as they care about me.”

“That’s not true. They love you. If they knew you were struggling—”

“They’d be the first ones to say, I told you so.”