Page 81 of Love Among Vines

“That sounds uneth?—”

She was silenced by Rett crushing his mouth to hers. Penny grumbled and jumped to the back seat again.

Jade released her seatbelt and crawled on her knees over to him. He pulled her on top of him and yanked on the bikini string until it released. Her warm, soft breasts tumbled into his hands, and her nipples hardened in response.

She arched her back and tipped her head up, providing an unimpeded view of the curve of her neck and a moonlight-dappled collarbone.

She was so beautiful. His hands trailed down and cupped her ass. Everything in him was screaming to take her here, now. Date be damned.

His hand slid forward to her bikini bottoms. He had one finger inside the waistband when she drew back.

“It’s not Friday,” she chastised.

Son of a bitch. He knew he was going to pay for that suggestion.

“You’re the one who insisted,” she said with a devilish smile. She slid off him and re-strung the bikini around her neck.

“Maybe there’s some wiggle room in this verbal contract.” He reached for her.

She shook her head. “You’re the one who set the terms. I would hate for you to go against your convictions at the first sign of temptation. I’m going to go paint. Night,” she said. With that, she hopped out of the truck without a backward glance.

He sat for a moment and watched her close the door to the cottage behind her.

He was in trouble.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

JADE

Jade closedthe door behind her and set her keys on the console table. She stretched her arms overhead, luxuriating in the tension that would surely mean sore muscles tomorrow.

The easel set up by the window caught her eye. A small tingle sent sparks up her spine. It might have had something to do with Rett, which was problematic.

She grabbed a palette, then dabbed acrylic paints across it in a semi-circle. With brushes fresh from the drying rack, she perched on a stool in front of the blank canvas. She closed her eyes for a moment, reveling in the sensation of gliding across the dark lake, new friends in her wake.

She opened her eyes and dabbed a brush into the black. Long strokes across the canvas, marking the hills on each side. Dabs for trees, dashes of deep blue sky behind the branches that—in her imagination at least—swayed in the darkness.

A moon rose, sending a light trail down the center of the painting. She fiddled with the grass in the foreground. When she had done as much as she could, she stepped away. There was no sense in tinkering too much. There was more to come, but this layer had to dry. Movement outside the window caught her eye. Steven the raccoon waddled past her cottage.

She shed the bikini and pulled on her comfiest pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt. From the fridge, she pulled a bag of cheese sticks and a bundle of grapes.

She upended a bucket by the door and spread the food on a gingham napkin. Steven deserved a nice snack. The night air was cool as she settled into an Adirondack chair on the front porch. There was an excellent chance that, once again, this painting wouldn’t be sellable. It might just be shitty. Shitty and nostalgic. But this lake—this town—had given back to her something she hadn’t seen in two years.

Before Hammondsport, she would squirt some paint onto a palette and stare at a blank canvas. It mocked her, gaping at her like a black hole. Even if she touched a brush to the canvas, it immediately felt wrong. But here, her soul was relaxed. She allowed herself to experiment, to create, without judgment.

Hopefully it would translate onto the wall at Margie’s.

The next morning,Jade breezed through her morning run—as much as she could with a side stitch undoubtedly brought on by too many apple cider margaritas the night before—and pedaled into town with a happy heart.

Apart from her abject anxiety about the mural, something else had been swirling in her brain. Rett had asked her to design a label for the new line, and she had stayed up too late perusing designs online. Something told her an ordinary, scripted-font label or sketched bird wasn’t going to cut it. She needed to find a picture of Rett’s grandmother.

But first, she needed toencapsulate a feeling. After locking her bike on the rack outside the café, she took a deep breath, appreciating for the millionth time how clear the air was andhow bright the sunshine. It was cooler today, with crisp notes of fall on the wind.

A store down the block had crates of apples stacked on the sidewalk. The smell was intoxicating, and she couldn’t stop herself from buying half a bushel. If only she could paint a smell.

A church that looked like it had come straight from a movie lot stood on one side of the street. Crisscrossing sidewalks intersected at a gazebo with benches scattered all over.

She sat down at the gazebo for a moment and just breathed in the town. People passed by on foot. Many were clearly from out of town—dressed extra warm and huddling in the square around a phone, pointing in different directions. Others were locals, greeting each other with warm smiles and pleasantries.

---