Page 30 of Sweet Escape at Bayside
Violet rolled her eyes. “How about making yourself useful and carrying breakfast out to the table before the vultures arrive.”
“Too late!” Emery said as she and Dean came through the kitchen door, both wearing workout clothes. “We’re here and…Holy moly.Violet hasn’t scared Andre off yet?”
Violet thrust the plate of fruit into her hands. “Fill that trap with fruit orknuckles. Your choice.”
“You’re all bark, no bite.” Emery giggled as she carried the fruit outside.
“Hey, man,” Dean said to Andre. “Does the whole delicious-breakfast-incredible-sex thing carry over toeveryonewho stays at Summer House?”
Rick and Desiree laughed.
“Shoot,” Violet mumbled, noticing the confusion in Andre’s eyes. She handed Dean the platter of pancakes and said, “No, it doesnot.” She handed Rick a plate of eggs and pointed to the door. “Out.”
“I’m going,” Rick said, and then he and Desiree carried platters of food outside, leaving Violet and Andre alone.Finally.She hadn’t counted on getting grief from the gossip girls.
Andre wrapped his arms around her and said, “You look hot in purple.”
She looked down at her dark purple tank top. “Thanks.”
“But pink looks better on you.” He kissed her cheek, and only then did she realize her cheeks were warm and probably flushed. “What did he mean by delicious-breakfast-incredible-sex thing?”
“Desiree loves to cook, but when she and Rick have great sex, she makes breakfasts that could make a dead man weep.”
A slow grin spread across Andre’s face. “In that case, I’ll have to up my game.”
“You up your game any more and I won’t be able to walk.” They’d made love three times last night, and she was sore in places she didn’t know could hurt.
His eyes narrowed and he said, “I meant mybreakfastgame.” He grabbed her butt and slanted his mouth over hers.
“Get a room,” Chloe said as she came into the kitchen. “I’m just grabbing coffee. Hey, Andre, you don’t happen to have a single brother hanging around anywhere, do you?”
“Not that I’m aware of. But I hear Justin is single.”
Chloe poured her coffee. “No thanks. I’ve done the bad-boy thing. I’m holding out for someone who smiles once in a while.”
Andre laced his fingers with Violet’s and said, “Sometimes you’ve got to fight for smiles, but that just makes them that much more special.”
“Can you please not say that sappy stuff about me?” Violet said as Chloe took her coffee out the door.
“Who says I was talking about you?” He chuckled at her deadpan stare. “Like I said last night, you’re not going to scare me off, and I’m not going to change how I show my love for you. So you’d better get used to being mushy most of the time.”
“Mostof the time? Sounds horrifying.”
“You love it. Besides…” He backed her up against the wall and boxed her in with his hard body. His eyes turned raven black as he ground his hips against hers and fisted one hand in her hair. “I saidmostof the time. I’ve seen your softer side, and it’s as much a part of you as the wild woman you show everyone else. Once you stop fighting what you really feel and allow yourself to be mushy and loved like you did when we were overseas—when I know you’reall in—we’re going to let rough-and-wild Violet out to play—gags, silk ties, whatever you want, baby. I’m all yours.”
ANDRE LOVED HAVING breakfast with Violet and her friends. The girls were hilarious, relentlessly teasing her about howdomesticshe’d become, which of course parlayed into jokes about their sex life. Violet took it all in stride, ignoring most of their comments and tossing in enough snarky barbs of her own to put them in their places. Rick and Desiree shared their honeymoon plans, and Drake and Dean asked Andre if he’d like to go running with them in the mornings. Emery insisted he and Violet join her for yoga at some point—unless it interfered with their ability to make breakfast, of course. It was easy to see why Violet had finally been able to settle down enough to stay put.
It was one of the most enjoyable mornings he’d had in a very long time, made even better because it had started out by waking up with Violet in his arms. But this morning had also brought to light things about Violet that he hadn’t recognized when they were overseas, like the fact that she didn’t seem to like to be hugged by anyone other than him and—he reluctantly admitted—Justin. And she didn’t take credit foranythingshe did. It went much further than simply not signing her artwork. He felt bad for Rick and Desiree. Violet had given them each a quick hug when they were saying their goodbyes, and she acted like she wasn’t going to miss them. Then she’d stood at the end of the driveway with a mix of happiness and longing in her eyes, watching them drive away. She didn’t leave that spot until their car had disappeared around the corner. She wasn’t fooling him. She was definitely going to miss them, despite the way she’d announced,Finally. Now we have the inn all to ourselves for three and a half weeks. Except maybe for breakfasts, when the moochers will be back.
As he followed her upstairs to her pottery studio, he thought about how she hadn’t taken credit for planning to surprise Desiree and Rick with breakfast. That brought his thoughts back to something Steph had said last night at the coffeehouse. She’d told him that Violet had dropped everything to help Rowan with Joni many times and that she had become a surrogate sister to Steph. Steph had explained that her younger sister, Bethany, had been Ashley’s best friend, and when they’d lost Ashley, Bethany had lost herself in drugs. Steph’s sister had been in and out of her life ever since, and apparently Violet had been a godsend, stepping in to help her deal with the roller coaster of emotions her sister’s visits evoked.
As much as he would have liked to have learned those things from Violet, he had a feeling it would take an act of congress for her to pat herself on the back. Trusting him enough to bring him into the secret world she kept hidden from everyone, including her own sister, had been a huge step. Even after just a few days it was clear how much her friends on both sides adored her. He just wished their breakup hadn’t caused her to create such a divide in her daily life.
“Here it is,” she said as he pushed open the studio door.
Bright light flooded the large, high-ceilinged studio. Incense hung in the air, mixing with the smell of clay and paint. He followed her into the unfinished room. His gaze was immediately drawn to the chaos of works in progress to his right, where several wooden tables were littered with clay vases, cups, pencil holders, tools, and sketches. They were as familiar as the woman who made them. Old newspapers and magazines were scattered about tabletops and on the hardwood floor beside a mass of canvas tarps. Fabric was piled high on a round table by a bay of nearly floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the beach, and batiks were draped over long wooden bars that hung from ropes tied to exposed rafters in the ceiling. A few wooden chairs were strewn throughout that side of the room, each one boasting dried clay streaks left behind by the artist’s hand.
He wanted to know the stories behind those streaks and wished he’d been there to witness them coming to life. He pictured Violet working at the pottery wheel, crouching before the kiln in the corner of the room to carefully set her artwork inside. But his heart ached at what was so blatantly missing.
