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Trent opened the folder and his heart flipped in his chest as he scanned the project details.
Rockwell Resort Community-Outreach Project
Title: Island Mural
Location: South wall of the resort
Artist: Reese Nicholson
Trent set the folder down. Even when Reese was nowhere near him, she was everywhere.
“Yes, I’d be happy”—thrilled—“to manage the project.”
Sierra and Abby exchanged smiles, while Quinn laughed. The knowing look in his brother’s eyes told Trent that he’d been hoping for this decision. He obviously wanted Trent to be just as happily in love as he was.
“Are you sure about this?” Derek clearly felt compelled to point out that, “You two have history, and after the way she hightailed it out of the Hideaway last night, things didn’t look so amicable.”
“I’m sure.” Trent left no room for negotiation. Not when it came to Reese. Not when this might be his chance to finally get her to stick around at least long enough for him to apologize to her for everything he’d blown in their relationship. There was no way he was going to give up a chance to be with Reese.
“I think it’s a wonderful idea, honey,” his mother said, patting him on the shoulder. “Who better to work closely with Reese than you?”
My thoughts exactly.
Chapter Eight
REESE’S GALLERY WAS decorated in a bright and airy theme, with white walls and pale yellow trim, accented with shades of green. Throughout the interior she had painted dandelions in various stages of growth. Parachutes of fluff floated up the walls, while newly sprouted green buds anchored the lower trim and dandelions in full bloom peeked out from corners and from behind paintings. Now she measured and planned from her perch at the top of a stepladder, preparing to hang a painting between a dandelion in full bloom and dandelion fluff.
“I’m pretty sure you’re not going to be able to avoid him forever,” Jocelyn said as she handed Reese a hammer.
Reese took the hammer and leaned one hand against the wall for balance as she thought about Trent—and how avoiding him was the last thing she wanted to do. Her mind traveled back to the summer they’d met. They’d walked down this very street hand in hand, talking about the future they’d been sure they’d have. One day your name will be in all the galleries in New York, and we’ll think back on how fun the journey was. We’ll laugh at how hard you thought it was when we were going through it. I’ve got faith in you, Reese. Your talent is bigger than the island.
She smiled to herself, remembering how important Trent had made her feel. How his faith in her artistic abilities had surpassed any praise she’d ever received. He’d been so sure of everything back then. And it had been that faith that she’d carried back to the island with her when she’d left New York, that faith that had given her the confidence to open her own gallery.
“I’m not sure I actually do want to avoid him,” she said as she sat down on the top of the ladder with the hammer in her lap and rested her chin on her palm. “Which might be an even bigger problem than both of us living on the island again.” She and Jocelyn had been discussing Trent on and off all morning, and while she’d thought that she’d have her feelings figured out by now, she wasn’t even close.
“Are we taking a break?” Jocelyn asked.
“We’re taking a…moment.”
“To do?”
Reese peered down at her friend. Jocelyn wore a long cotton skirt and a pale green tank top with a cute pair of sandals. Her hair was secured at the nape of her neck with a wide clip.
“To admire your sexy librarian look,” she teased.
“That was exactly the look I was going for,” Jocelyn said with a grin. “Now, back to Trent and all that not-avoiding you’re thinking about doing.”
Reese picked up the hammer again. “Hold the ladder. I need to get this painting hung so that the whole day doesn’t end up being a write-off.” She appreciated that her friend simply gripped the sides of the ladder and waited for her to collect her thoughts. Thoughts that were zinging back and forth in her head like a ball in a pinball machine. “I thought I was over him,” she said as she began hammering the nail into the wall. “But every time I’m near him, I get all mushy inside, and all those feelings I thought I had dealt with come rushing back.”
“Maybe that’s not a bad thing?”
Reese clutched at the wall, nearly tumbling off the ladder at the sound of Trent’s deep voice asking her if getting mushy over him ten years after their divorce was a bad thing. The next thing she knew, he was standing behind her and settling his big hands on the sides of her thighs—simultaneously stabilizing her and sending her even more off-balance.
