Page 5 of Our Secret Summer

“I’m truly thrilled.” Dylan’s lips seemed to have taken on a life of their own and were fixed in a permanent smile. What was that all about? Sure, she was glad for the companionship because it got her out of her own head, where she’d been spending too much time, but it couldn’t just be that. Dylan glanced at Raffo, who looked brooding yet radiant in the morning light, and realized that she was looking forward to helping Raffo feel better about herself. To see her come into her own again. To watch her paint. It would be such an honor to witness Raffo Shah put paint to canvas. “Please, stay as long as you like.”

“I do have an issue with not telling Connor.” Raffo was nothing if not straightforward. “I get it, but I hate lying to him.”

“I know.” In the grand scheme of things, and in the hierarchies of white lies—if there even was such a thing—Dylan didn’t think this particular lie, this omission of the truth more like, was that bad. She just needed a little more time to lick her wounds before facing Connor who, she knew very well, would ultimately be understanding, but not before making a big drama out of it. A drama she could do without at this stage. And she had already set the lie in motion when she had supposedly left for Europe, where she was meant to stay for two months. “Can you give me a little more time, please?” Dylan looked into Raffo’s dark eyes.

“He’s my best friend, not just my gallerist.” Raffo sounded earnest.

Dylan nodded. There wasn’t much else she could do.

“Also, um…” The hesitation in Raffo’s words didn’t show in her face when she looked at Dylan. “Given your circumstances, I want to pay rent for staying here. It’s only fair.”

“You don’t have to pay to stay here, Raffo.” Dylan shook her head. “I’m not destitute.”

In response, Raffo just arched up her thick, black eyebrows.

“Okay, look.” Dylan placed her elbows on the kitchen island and leaned toward Raffo. “I’ll make you a deal.”

Raffo tilted her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yes?”

“Paint something for me. You don’t have to give me the work. But if you want to pay me some kind of rent for staying, then get your mojo back while you’re here. That would mean a lot to me.”

Raffo frowned. “But getting my mojo back is a reward for me. I don’t get how that translates into paying you.”

“You getting your mojo back is a reward for everyone, including me.” Last night, Dylan had explored Raffo’s website and had marveled at her work. At its colors and its exuberant spirit. Even though she’d seen a lot of her paintings before, they looked different after spending an evening with the artist.

“But no pressure?” Raffo grinned.

“It’s not meant as pressure. Simply appreciation and an unshakable belief that you’ll be creating genius art again in no time.”

“Genius?” Raffo scoffed, then shook her head. “How about I buy all the groceries and take you out for a meal whenever you want?” She scratched the side of her head. “I’d offer to cook, but then I think you’ll want me to leave as soon as possible.”

“Deal.” Dylan stretched out her hand.

Raffo looked at it, then shook it.

“Your cooking is that bad?” Dylan asked.

“It’s not so much that I can’t cook,” Raffo said. “It’s more that I have such an aversion to it that you can taste it in the food I make.”

“Really?” Dylan was more intrigued by Raffo with every minute she spent with her. “Why is that?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Good thing we’ll be here for a while.” Dylan couldn’t shake the feeling that, ever since Raffo had arrived, things had started looking up for her—despite her bank account not having been magically replenished overnight.

Raffo chuckled low in her throat. “How about you make me a shopping list and I go to the store first?”

CHAPTER 6

Raffo floated on her back in the lake and gazed up at the bright blue sky. The water was cool but not cold and as clear as the sky overhead. Little had she known that when Connor had pushed her into her car, she’d end up in this little slice of paradise.

Her head was still too full of thoughts of Mia—and her new girlfriend who, mercifully, Raffo hadn’t met—but those thoughts were more bearable out here, away from the city she shared with her ex. Away from her everyday life that hadn’t felt like hers any longer. Her heart was still broken into a million pieces, but Raffo had found an excellent distraction in Dylan.

It was easy enough to forget she was Connor’s mother—nor did it matter when it came to considering how fine her behind looked in a pair of jeans shorts. How she had the kind of hair that caught the sunlight in a way that made you feel like summer was simply an inextricable part of her. How her deep blue eyes sparkled when Raffo said something that surprised her. None of it meant anything. It was just the flimsiest of balms for Raffo’s ruptured soul. She was just taking whatever morsel of joy she could find, and sneaking peeks at Dylan brought her a tiny burst of joy every time.

Maybe it was because Dylan could not look more the opposite of Mia with her sharp body angles and jet-black hair. Dylan was much softer around the edges and the frivolous smattering of ginger freckles on her nose a sight for sore eyes as well as hearts. Raffo simply enjoyed looking at Dylan. She was hot—and kind and empathetic and a great listener—but that’s where it ended. It felt a bit like going on a wellness retreat and finding it came with a private chef/therapist who was also very easy on the eye. Like a win-win when all she’d been doing lately was losing.

Raffo tilted her body upward and gazed in the direction of the house. Dylan was standing on the deck, waving at her. Raffo swam closer.

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