Until Winter Breaks Page 20

  “It’s about to get smaller.”

  “Are you saying you want me to take off my shirt?” He kept his distance—and his much smaller paintbrush up—as he tugged his shirt over his head.

  She licked her lips, her eyes raking his half-naked body. He settled his weight on his right leg, almost daring her to try to get close to him with that roller.

  Millie aimed her flirtiest smile right at him, hitting the bullseye in less than a second. He lowered his brush and she attacked.

  The cold paint took his breath, but the giggling woman applying it stole his heart.

  He dropped his brush and wrapped his fingers around her wrists. The silver coated his abs now, smeared his chest. He could almost taste the paint in his mouth. He joined his laughter with hers, squeezing her right wrist until she had to drop the roller.

  “Success,” she said, her laughter making her voice breathless.

  He lifted his hands, bringing hers with him, until they stood chest to chest. He rubbed himself back and forth against her, his grin turning wicked as she shrieked again.

  “You little sneak!” She beat against his chest, further staining her hands with metallic paint. “You ruined my shirt. I didn’t get a single drop on yours!”

  “You own more clothes that I do, sweetheart.” He released her, but she barely put a foot between them.

  She brushed her hair off her jaw, her eyes sparking with fun. “I get it. You want me to take my shirt off too.” She fiddled with the hem of her tank top, making firecrackers explode through his insides.

  “Well, Mister.” She got right in his face. “I’m not going to give you the satisfaction.” She spun away from him, but not before he caught the playful glint in her expression, the half-smile riding her delicious lips.

  “Please,” he called after her as she stalked around the back of the truck. “I showed you mine.”

  She rolled her eyes, disappeared behind the cab, and slammed the door after she got in. He laughed as he retrieved the keys from his shorts pockets and started the truck so she wouldn’t asphyxiate in there while he gathered the dropped supplies.

  “Don’t get paint on the upholstery,” he warned her. “Tripp treats this truck like a child.”

  “All the paint’s on the front.” Millie gestured to her chest, and Jared took a long look.

  “Oh, look at that.” His voice strained as he brought his gaze back to hers. “Shiny.”

  She laughed. “Stop it, and get cleaned up so we can go.”

  “As you command.” He bowed his half-bare body and had the supplies in the back of the truck in only a few minutes. He wiped his hands as clean as he could before he touched the steering wheel.

  “We need to shower before we go to lunch,” Millie said.

  “Is that an invitation?” Jared raised his eyebrows even as her throat bobbed like she’d swallowed a whole apple.

  “I’m teasing, sweetheart.” Jared pulled into Millie’s driveway. “But if you loan me some soap, I’ll use Sophie’s shower so I don’t have to drive to Tripp’s and back.”

  He shadowed her through her house, into her bedroom to her master bath, half-hoping she’d insist he stay, allow him to carefully wipe the silver paint from her chin, remove the smears from her arms and ears, comb shampoo through her hair with his fingers.

  He shifted his feet, his blood heating his skin and practically boiling the dried paint smeared on his torso.

  Millie bent over to search for soap under her sink, and Jared blew out his breath. He couldn’t be here, with her, and not be with her. He retreated, coming level with the doorway of the closet. It only took one sweeping glance to see the stack of men’s clothing, the few hangers with masculine shirts.

  He backed up again, like he’d been punched by an iron fist. Foolishness snaked through him. The clothes seemed to shriek at him: You shouldn’t hope for so much, so fast.

  “Here you go.” Millie handed him a box of soap and a towel, her voice normal and her smile genuine.

  “Thanks.” He took the items and left her house as fast as possible without breaking into a run. As he cleaned up next door, he reminded himself to give her the time and space she needed. He’d fallen faster than her, but he didn’t have a deceased spouse in his past.

  He couldn’t compete with a ghost, and as the paint flaked from his body, he realized he didn’t have to. He allowed his frustration to wash down the drain, leaving more space to adore Millie, cherish Millie, love Millie.

  * * *

  Millie took longer than normal in the shower, because she was so distracted by thoughts of Jared. Then she couldn’t remember if she’d washed her hair, so she scrubbed it again. With her toes pruned and her hair triple-conditioned, she stood in her closet with a towel wrapped around her body.

  Her gaze glided over Brady’s clothes, snagging on them. They suddenly seemed out of place in her world. A world where she spent a forty-minute shower thinking about another man. Not just thinking. Fantasizing.

  A world where Brady didn’t belong.

  As her heart squeezed into a space that was too small, she slid her fingers over the stack of shorts and selected her pair of cutoffs and a pink tank top and got dressed. A quick blow-dry and the addition of mascara and lip gloss and she padded down the hall to her living room.

  Jared waited on the couch, redressed in his jeans and gray T-shirt. But she knew what lay underneath that thin cotton, and she wanted to touch it. “Ready?” he asked as he stood. He kept the distance between them, and Millie closed it, stretching up to kiss his cheek.

  She teetered on the edge of telling him she loved him, but bit back the words. She wanted to feel them, really mean them when she said them.

  He held her close, swaying to a song only he could hear. “Love you, Mills,” he whispered, and she melted into him.

  “Let’s go to lunch,” he said, his tone light and casual. “I’m starving.”

  They lunched, and laughed, and liplocked. He took her back to Tripp’s for a barbeque, which she enjoyed with Tripp and Polly. Watching Jared turn hamburgers over an open flame made her heart wiggle and writhe, making more room for him.

  The next afternoon, they hung the surfboard at The Sandy Tortilla. She spoke with Desi. Millie’s new life became predictable. She’d decided to participate in the Redwood Bay community celebration by making more accessible items to sell. The quantity of aprons, skirts, and leggings began to take over half of her sewing room.

  She spent evenings on the beach with Jared, or in Tripp’s backyard while Jared made dinner, or on the back of Jared’s motorcycle as they rode down the coast.

  Sadie and Diana came over on Friday nights. They ate too much artichoke dip and challah, cheese fondue, and ice cream, and Millie was the happiest she’d been since she moved to Redwood Bay.

  Jared arrived in her shop one Monday afternoon near three o’clock. “Mills?”

  “In the sewing room.”

  He leaned in the doorway. “We’re meeting in a few minutes at the diner.”

  She finished the hem on another skirt. “Yep. Coming.” She hung the skirt on a hanger and placed that on the rack. “Will I finally get to see your super-secret project?” She grinned as she hooked her elbow through his. He’d spent the majority of the past two weeks making something at Tripp’s shop that he wouldn’t tell her about.

  “Yeah.” Jared took her hand and they walked the two blocks to the diner with the near-summer breeze in their hair.

  “When’s Sophie getting into town?” Millie asked.

  “Next week,” Jared said. “Oh, and Tripp and I decided to do one last dry run before our tour group the week after that.” He brushed her hair off her cheek and kissed her. “We’re leaving in the morning.”

  Millie stepped in front of him into Lucy’s air-conditioned diner. They joined the rest of the business owners in the banquet room in the back, where Tripp had several tables covered with dark cloths.

  When he saw Jared, he nodded and said, “Okay, let’s g
et started.”

  Millie slid into a seat next to Diana, giving her friend a quick sideways hug, while Jared moved to the front with Tripp.

  “The Redwood Bay visitor’s bureau has endorsed our co-op,” Tripp began. “They’ve agreed to put fliers for specific businesses at their visitor’s bureau and the National Park Visitor’s Center to help drive more tourists into town.”

  The room broke out into a smattering of applause. Tripp grinned. “This is a big deal. We get a lot of tourists in town because of the park, but not everyone stays here. Our hotels could do better. Our eateries.” He glanced at Lucy and Diana. “Everyone could benefit from increased exposure during the summer months.”

  He took a deep breath and gestured to the covered items on the table. “Jared’s been working on these displays.”

  Jared removed the cloths to reveal handmade, stained, trendy cases. They each had three tiers, and stood no taller than a foot. The detail work made Millie want to feel his capable hands on her body, in her hair.

  “Every shop owner who agrees will get one of these smaller cases. They’ll be grouped as much as possible according to where we think tourists would likely go next. So if they come to Lucy’s, we’ll try to get them over to Mike’s to rent Jet Skis. And Mike will advertise my deep sea fishing tours, and I’ll have discount coupons for the hotels. Things like that.”

  “If they’re starting at Sophie’s stand,” Jared started. “We’ll send them to the bakery, and then the salon, and the dress shop.”

  Millie sat up straighter, though no one looked at her.

  “The visitor’s bureau will only let us highlight three businesses. We’re thinking Sophie’s taco stand, Lucy’s diner, and Diana’s bakery for starters. People always need to eat. We’ll try to get them to stay in town from there.” Tripp gestured to the next table, and Jared uncovered three cases that were twice as big as the others.

  “We’ll put these cases at those places, with cards, pamphlets, discount coupons, whatever you want to offer to the tourists.” Tripp folded his arms and stepped back. “Questions?”

  A woman in the front, Hilary Finnegan, raised her hand. “How does this help the fishermen? The ones that could go out of business if the Seattle companies keep encroaching on our town.”

  Tripp regarded her with a passive face. “We’re advertising local everything. Local produce, local entertainment, local fish. Lucy buys from you, Hil, and if she’s feeding more people, she’s buying more from you.”

  “I only buy local,” Steve said, the owner of the grocer. “From you, Hil, or Tripp, or the other Redwood Bay guys.”

  “I know Sophie buys from you,” Jared said. “Again, if we can get more people in town eating, everybody profits. It’s a trickle down effect.”

  Hilary nodded, seemingly satisfied. Millie didn’t expect her business to improve that much. Maybe she’d get a few women in the shop to buy a skirt or a scarf, but she wouldn’t get major bookings for dresses. Which was okay. She didn’t depend on the tourists to survive, not the way some of the other townspeople did.

  She tuned out of the conversation, instead focusing on Jared and his powerful presence in his hometown. He caught her watching and gave her a brief—and knowing—smile. She ducked her head and secretly couldn’t wait until they could be alone.

  That didn’t happen until much later that night, after all the cases had been handed out, after Jared had made and served dinner, after they’d discussed how the co-op meeting had gone, after Tripp finally went to bed near eleven o’clock.

  Millie sighed as she wrapped her arms around Jared’s torso, her legs not as tight against the seat of his motorcycle as they used to be. She didn’t let go when he pulled into her driveway, instead she continued hugging him tight.

  “What’s goin’ on, sweetheart?” He wove his fingers through hers, pressing them against his heartbeat.

  “Nothing,” she whispered. “Just thinking about you leaving again tomorrow.” She finally released him and got off the bike, Jared right behind her.

  His fingers curled around hers as they sauntered toward the front door. “So you’ll miss me.”

  “Yes,” she said, suddenly realizing how much.

  He pulled her to him at the bottom of the steps. “I already miss you, sweetheart.” He kissed her slowly, patiently driving her toward a blazing inferno of desire.

  “You want to sit for a bit?” She pointed toward the swing, but he shook his head.

  “I can’t tonight.”

  Confusion flooded her. “Why not?” He never seemed to care how late he stayed, though she always made him leave at midnight.

  He glanced toward her front door, then her bedroom balcony, his jaw muscles doing their nervous dance. “We’re getting a really early start tomorrow.”

  She pressed her cheek against his chest so she didn’t have to look into his eyes. “Okay,” she said. Even without a formal law education she knew Jared Newton was lying.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Jared lay in his own bed, watching the moonlight chase shadows across the floor. He hadn’t even been able to sit with Millie on her porch tonight, because he didn’t want just the porch. He didn’t want only the balcony. He wanted the whole shebang.

  He pinched the diamond he’d bought last week between his fingers, letting the light hit it. He smiled just thinking about Millie wearing his ring. Wearing one of her own handcrafted dresses to their wedding. Wearing that timid smile that meant she loved him.

  Jared replaced the ring in the box, intending to keep it until she was ready—and she wasn’t yet. Everything about this ring felt different than the one he’d bought for Carla. He’d bought that diamond for him, because they’d been together for so long, because his boss expected him to. He’d never been able to give it to her, because he was the one who wasn’t ready in that relationship.

  He was ready this time. In Redwood Bay, of all places. He chuckled to himself, finally able to sleep.

  * * *

  Tripp hauled on the last two cases of water, stepping heavily down the stairs to the storage room behind the galley where Jared stood taking inventory of their food and supplies.

  “Lookin’ good, boss,” he said, which caused Tripp to roll his eyes as he dropped the water on the floor.

  “Full five days,” Tripp said, taking in the boxes of granola bars, instant pancake mix, bottles of ketchup, and bags of chips.

  “Yeah.” Jared checked another box on his sheet, determined not to think about Millie the whole time. “I’m bringing the same menu as what we’ll provide for the tour. In smaller quantities, of course. Just want to see how the timing is with the meal prep.”

  Tripp clapped Jared on the back. “I’m so glad you’re doing this.”

  At the catch in Tripp’s voice, Jared met his cousin’s eye, a whoosh of appreciation lodging his response in his throat. He nodded, and Tripp headed upstairs. A few minutes later, the engine started and Jared braced himself as the trawler began her journey out into the ocean.

  He finished the inventory and hung the clipboard on the nail by the entrance to the galley. It took him ten minutes to put together a breakfast of pancakes and bacon, which he took to Tripp on their travel dishware.

  They ate as the sun colored the sky. Jared watched the GPS and Tripp hummed a tune that reminded Jared of his childhood. The good parts of his childhood, like the weekend beach barbeques his uncle would host all summer long. The surfing at dawn with Tripp and Polly. Sophie never joined them, choosing instead to bake breakfast and bring it down when they pulled themselves from the waves.

  A wash of nostalgia crowded Jared’s stomach. “You happy about the co-op?” he asked to break the spell that had come over him.

  “I think so.” Tripp exhaled. “I think it’ll help some businesses more than others, to be honest. I didn’t know how to answer Hilary.”

  Jared’s thoughts flew to Millie. “Yeah, I understand,” he said. “Lucy and Sophie and Diana definitely have the most to gain.”<
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  “But if we can get tourists to stay in town longer, buy locally…” Tripp stroked his hand from cheekbones to chin. “I think Hil will see an increase in her sales just from the restaurant business.”

  “I’m sure she will.” Jared chuckled when Tripp’s neck turned blotchy. “Somethin’ between you two?”

  “No,” Tripp said quickly. “She’s a fishmonger.”

  “So are you,” Jared pointed out.

  Tripp dismissed Jared’s words with a half-hearted wave, his lips gluing themselves together. Jared got the hint, though his smirk rode his lips for a good ten minutes. Though Tripp wasn’t the most eloquent or vocal man, Jared now knew what to bring up to shut him up.

  “Well, time for lunch.” Jared heaved himself from the deck chair and went below to whip up turkey sandwiches with an apple and a bag of chips. He wrote the time it took to make two, estimating the time he needed to make twenty. In two weeks, when he and Tripp brought out the tour group, Tripp would educate them on boats and the fishing industry. Jared would prepare and serve all the food, show the boys how to stock a ship, clean fish, and survive on the water with limited supplies.

  As he faced the wind and let the breeze ruffle his hair, Jared never could’ve imagined his life would include boats and the ocean. He’d run from them fifteen years ago. Now he faced his future with hope, doing something he’d always loved. Hopefully with the person he loved.

  * * *

  Surviving without Millie had become impossible. Three days on the ship, with only Tripp for company, had left Jared grumpy and in desperate need of something to do besides chart the movements of fish and make yet another meal neither he nor Tripp wanted.

  Only a few more hours, and they’d be heading back toward land. Sure, that arrival was still two days away—eight more meals—but Jared didn’t care. Once they reached the turnaround point, the journey would feel easier. He’d feel closer to Millie instead of so far away.