She tried to read Grant’s expression as he talked with Bellamy at the register. His face was a mask of seriousness. His eyes flicked toward Jules every few seconds, causing her stomach to knot up. She hoped he wasn’t mad about the painting supplies. Bellamy looked over, her brows knitted.
Oh no. Jules’s nerves caught fire. She hadn’t meant to upset him. What if he thought Bellamy was in on her secret delivery? Please don’t be mad at Bellamy. Bellamy didn’t even know what she had done. As Jules stood shaking in her boots, she quickly came up with a plan to keep them both out of trouble.
Grant strode toward her in his faded jeans and gray Henley under a leather jacket. He walked a little different with his prosthetic leg, but to Jules that was just another part of who he was now, which was unlike the new and ever-present firm set of his jaw and haunting shadows in his eyes, which she desperately wanted to put to rest. He’d always had a bit of bad-boy energy about him, even when he joked around. But now he gave off a colder, edgier vibe. Jules had never been attracted to cold or edgy guys. That was her older sisters’ thing. Jules had always been attracted to guys who were safe and upbeat, like Carey and Justin. But she was powerless to resist the way she was drawn to Grant, as if there was an unstoppable universal force guiding her.
Grant stopped beside the ladder, his dark eyes boring into her. “You okay up there?”
“Mm-hm. Yup. Totally fine.” Happy, happy, happy. Not nervous at all.
“Need some help getting that witch down?”
She’d forgotten she was supposed to be doing that. “I’ve got it. Are you looking for a gift or something?”
“Funny you ask. Someone dropped off a few things at my place. You know anything about that?”
“Nope.” Okay, so lying wasn’t the best plan, but it was a plan all the same, and she was sticking with it. It was a good thing she’d forgotten to bring his jacket to return, or he’d know for sure she was the one who’d done it.
His brows slanted. “You don’t know anything about the box of painting supplies?”
“Sure don’t.” Her pulse raced. She hated lying, and she was really bad at it. She shifted her attention to the witch and began unhooking it from its tethers.
“Huh.” He crossed his arms and glanced at Bellamy. “Guess it must have been a painting fairy. A pixie. You know, like in Peter Pan.”
Ohmygod. She lowered the witch and tucked it under her arm. “It was more likely one of your friends, or maybe your mom. Yeah, it was probably your mother. She always loved your paintings. Or maybe you have a secret admirer.” Why did I say that? “Or, you know, it could be anyone. But it wasn’t me or Bellamy. We’ve been here all day.”
He took the witch from her as she climbed down the ladder trying not to act as rattled as she felt.
“Maybe you should try painting again to get all of those bad feelings out of your head. My friend Paige, from my book club, has an eating disorder, and she went through art therapy.” She always rambled when she was nervous. “It did wonders for her. It could help. You never know. In fact, maybe those painting supplies are a sign from the universe.”
He cocked a brow and stepped closer, sending her pulse skyrocketing. “A sign from the universe?”
“I don’t know, but they could be. What am I? The island know-it-all?” She huffed out a breath, snagged the witch from him, and headed for the stockroom.
Grant followed on her heels. “That sounds about right. You’ve always been the island entertainment director.”
She rolled her eyes and reached for the stockroom door, but Grant leaned over her, putting his hand flat against the door, holding it closed. His chest pressed against her back, blazing like an inferno through their clothes. Her heart beat so fast she was sure he could feel it. She swallowed hard as he lowered his face beside hers. He smelled like spicy, rugged man and enticing, forbidden desires. Ohgodohgodohgod. If only she were better at flirting, and not her usual awkward rambling self, she might be able to coax out that secret seductress that had shocked the heck out of her last night in the vines and flirt her way out of the secret gift conversation and into his arms.
“Why are you bothering with me, Jules?”
His deep voice slithered beneath her skin, awakening her neediest parts. She turned around, meeting his piercing stare, his big body trapping her against the door. She forced all that titillating energy down deep, hoping her nose wouldn’t grow as she said, “I told you I have no idea what you’re talking about, but God forbid someone gives a darn about you. Is that such a crime?”
The muscles in his jaw bunched, but he didn’t say a word. He just stared at her like he was either trying to figure her out, readying to give her hell, or put his tempting mouth all over her. She was too distracted by the feel of her breasts brushing against his hard body to tell which, but she’d like option three, please.
He lowered his face a whisper away from hers and said, “Stop wasting your time on me, Pixie.”
He turned and stalked toward the entrance. His command was heard loud and clear, but that invisible force wouldn’t let her back down. She mustered all of her courage and shouted after him, “I will, as soon as you stop wasting the time you’ve been given!”
He stopped in his tracks, and she held her breath. But he didn’t turn around. His shoulders rose with his every inhalation. She swore the world stood still as nerve-racking seconds ticked by, each one more stressful than the last. She could feel Bellamy watching them as Grant’s hands fisted by his sides and he straightened his spine. Just when Jules was sure he was going to spin around and rip her a new one, he threw open the door and walked out.
The air rushed from her lungs.
Bellamy hurried over to her. “What was that all about? You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine.” Jules breathed deeply, shaking her head, and leaned back against the door feeling oddly sad.
“Am I missing something between you two?”
“No.”
“Then what did you say that made him so mad?”
“He didn’t tell you at the register?”
“Tell me what? He just apologized for leaving so fast last night.”
She was surprised he didn’t tell Bellamy about the paints. “Well, don’t tell him this, even though he knows. I left some paints and canvases on his porch today. I thought it might help him work through whatever’s got him so angry all the time.”
“Oh, Jules. This is my fault for telling you how much I missed him. My parents have all his old painting stuff. They tried to give it to him when he first came back, but he didn’t want it. He doesn’t want to be here.” She looked sadly toward the front of the store. “You know that old saying, If you love something, set it free? Maybe my family needs to just let him go.”
“No,” Jules said adamantly. “We did that with Jock and lost ten years with him. I’m not letting that happen to your family. I’m not giving up on him, Belly. Not by a long shot.”
Chapter Four
GRANT WASN’T THE only one with ninja-like skills. As the sun peeked over the horizon Thursday morning, Jules parked at the bottom of his driveway. Bundled up in head-to-toe black, from her knit cap pulled low on her forehead to her knee-high boots, she grabbed the welcome mat she’d bought for him and stealthily made her way up to the bungalow.