Page 80 of Beside Golden Irish Fields
The pencil flew over the paper, and this time, she was drawing herself flying across the pasture, his sheep puffy dots underneath her with a trace of Carrick in the distance. She stopped and looked at it when she was finished.
She’d told him the truth. The beach was stunning in light and shadow, and the water flickered in ever-changing shades—going from golden to diamond to a dangerous blue. But the pasture where she sat in the mornings, where they chatted—that view was the one she loved most.
By God, she did love him.
When she raised her face, he cupped it and gave her a long, lingering kiss. The earlier white heat was now a gentle campfire. She knew he wasn’t going to take things further tonight, and she made herself ask why.
“Afraid to find out if I’m cured the whole way?”
He smiled as he pushed the wild strands of hair back from her face. “No, I am unafraid, in fact. We might see how you draw in the morning and for the next few days. Plus, it would be our first time together, and it should have a touch more romance than a cold studio and a hard floor, I’d be thinking. We’ve both waited a while for it. Seems we might want to set the stage a little for each other. I’d like to awake with you and fill you as dawn stretches out across the land.”
She rested her head against his chest, and his arms wrapped around her. Somehow the fact that he didn’t want to rush only made her more certain of her feelings. “I’d like to set the stage for you too,” she whispered, her voice aching with her newly realized love.
His hand was soft as it brushed her cheek. “But do bring your art supplies just to be safe.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Her son hated her.
Megan knew she was being dramatic, but he hadn’t liked moving into another cottage. Hadn’t she heard what he’d muttered under his breath?I want to stay with Aunt Angie.
When Kade had suggested that Ollie and he have a boys’ night riding ponies and camping outside, she’d been more than delighted to agree. Still, she didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts in a quiet cottage, so she decided to take a walk on the beach. She grabbed a cardigan since the evening was cool. Angie would be painting, per her usual routine. She didn’t want to talk to her sister yet, so she took an alternate path to the beach. She’d replayed their argument in her mindad nauseam. But it was her sister’s last words that kept getting stuck inside her.
You used to love going to the beach. I always wondered why you stopped.
Surveying the breathtaking expanse of beach, the gentle waves lapping on the shore, she couldn’t hold back the hurt any longer. Tyson still wouldn’t like her going to the beach alone, except here she was, doing it anyway.
Why had she stopped?
Tyson had always told her he loved her and that she needed to trust him.My job is to keep you safe, remember? The Army doesn’t give special missions to just anyone.
God, she missed him saying that with his cocky smile. She’d loved that he was stronger than she was, what with his rock-solid frame and his fearlessness about going into hot spots. He knew more than she did and did everything better.
But she hadn’t stopped going to the beach only because of that. She’d wanted to please him. She’d thought it would convince him to stay home more.
She was pathetic, and she didn’t want to keep being like this. Her son didn’t like her most of the time, and she didn’t think Angie did either—or her parents, for that matter. In the end, she wasn’t sure Tyson had. Why would they?
She didn’t likeher.
She charged down the beach, her footprints deeper tonight. The walk only seemed to stir her up more, like the tide stirred up the remnants of the past onto the sand. All the pieces were broken, like her. All the dreams she’d had for her life might as well be sea glass washed up on the beach. Wanting to be away from the reminders, she left the beach and headed toward the path back to her cottage.
When she met Carrick walking on the main driveway, she stopped short. So did he.
“Evening,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ve just seen your sister’s paintings. They’re incredible.”
She gaped. “Angie never shows her paintings before a show.” She hadn’t even done that with Randall.
“I’m fortunate then.” A smile fluttered on his face. “You should know it’s very important to me that she’s painting again.”
Of all the things she’d expected him to say, that surprised her. She must have looked puzzled because he said, “I only want you to know that I understand how vital it is to her, and that I’d never do anything to hurt that.”
She believed him. Maybe that was why Angie had formed such a bond with him. Their affection was clear from the way they chatted every morning. She’d seen them from the kitchen window of Angie’s cottage as she made breakfast. She’d hoped her sister knew what she was doing. Asking her about it hadn’t seem right, especially when Angie was painting so well.
“I’m glad,” she said, fiddling with the knot of her cardigan. “I heard you won’t be spraying words on your sheep anymore.”
His whole chest seemed to lift when he took a deep breath. “No. It was time to move on.”
Move. Movement. Move on.Words she’d been hearing a lot of lately.
