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Once the sun has sunk all the way into the water, and my belly is halfway to full, we make our way up one floor to the small dining room.
This hotel may be off the beaten path, but everything about it is absolute luxury. The linens on the table are soft, and the lighting is romantic.
“We’ll be down here each morning for breakfast, as well,” Kane informs me after we’re seated. “It might be one of the best restaurants I’ve been to in my life.”
“I can’t believe I’ve never heard of this place,” I admit. “It’s amazing.”
“Best kept secret that’s not so much a secret on the west coast,” the waiter says as he joins us. “And I’m happy to hear you’re pleased with your stay so far, Miss Montgomery.”
“Thank you.”
I’m not even going to try and guess how he knows my name. So far, every staff member has greeted us by name since we checked in.
It’s like everyone’s psychic.
The menu is the same for everyone. Tonight, they’re serving fresh Dungeness crab that was caught this afternoon from the ocean right outside, along with an array of sides that have my mouth watering.
“I shouldn’t have had the cheese and crackers,” I mutter, staring at the food before me.
“There’s no rush,” Kane assures me. “We can take our time and enjoy.”
“It’s going to take me all evening to eat this,” I admit. “And I am eating every bite. It’s too good not to.”
He smiles and takes a bite of the fresh, hot bread just delivered to our table.
“I do enjoy watching you eat your food, Anastasia.”
“Well, then, I’m about to put on one hell of a show.”Chapter Sixteen~Anastasia~My feet are killing me.
We walked for miles on the beach this morning. Then, we took the inn’s shuttle to downtown Cannon Beach, where we’ve walked all over town, in and out of some of the most beautiful art galleries I’ve ever seen. Paintings, sculptures, you name it can be found in this gem of a town.
If I didn’t have a business and family in Seattle, I’d move here right now. Open up a little cake shop and live the rest of my days walking the beach and making delicious cakes for the sweet people we’ve met here.
“Where are you, darling?”
I smile at Kane. We’re walking between galleries, just enjoying a leisurely stroll. “Daydreaming.”
“And what would that daydream be?”
I laugh and shake my head. “Nothing. It’s silly.” Something in a window catches my eye. “Oh, let’s go in here.”
Kane follows me into the building. It’s quiet in here today. It’s so pretty outside, most of the tourists are likely on the beach, enjoying the water and the sunshine.
“I love this.” I walk over to a bronze sculpture of a girl, maybe in her early teens. Her hair is up in a ponytail, and she’s holding a paintbrush, leaning in with squinting eyes, looking at a canvas.
The art she’s painting is also part of the sculpture, and absolutely stunning.
“Oh, how lovely,” I breathe. “Look at the detail, all the way down to her toenails.”
“You have good taste.”
Kane and I turn at the sound of the voice. A man in his mid-thirties smiles at us and nods at the piece I’m admiring.
“This artist lives south of here. I’ve sold her pieces for years.”
“I can see why,” I reply. “She does beautiful work.”
“You’re Kane O’Callaghan.” He holds his hand out for Kane to shake. “I’m Trevor Mullins, the owner of this gallery, and several more all over the world.”
“I’ve heard your name,” Kane says as he shakes Trevor’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure’s all mine,” Trevor says with a smile.
“I’m going to let you two talk while I look around.” I nod politely. “I see several pieces that have caught my eye.”
I walk away and let Trevor try to impress Kane enough to sell some of his pieces here in the gallery. I think Kane should do it. I can see by looking around that Trevor has a discerning eye, with only the best work on display.
Frankly, I could go into deep, deep debt by shopping in here, with that sculpture of the girl painting at the top of my list. There’s also a seascape that I can’t stop looking at. The colors are muted, subdued greens and blues that perfectly portray a moody ocean.
It would be a gorgeous piece for Kane’s master bedroom. It reminds me of Kane. Subdued and a little moody, but magnificent and powerful.
I check the price, convinced I need to buy it for Kane’s birthday, and am surprised to see it’s only a couple thousand dollars. I discreetly tuck Trevor’s card into my pocket and make a mental note to call him when I’m back home to make arrangements to purchase the painting and have it delivered to me in Seattle.
