Serenity and Reagan worked in the mornings—Serenity on her book and Reagan on Serenity’s social media—but Finn usually painted in the afternoon. That left him available after breakfast, so he and Lorelei had started taking Lucy on a walk each morning around ten.
A few days ago they’d gone into town to see what they could find there. That had been fun but not quite as enjoyable as the beach, especially to Lucy. Since then they’d spent most of their mornings at Sand Harbor, and today they were meandering in that direction, too.
Tahoe hadn’t quite made the transition to summer, so while there were a few boats on the water when they arrived, there weren’t a lot of people on shore. It was Friday, so Lorelei supposed more enthusiasts would come later, as the day warmed and the weekenders arrived, but she preferred this quieter time.
As Lucy started to hunt for the flat, smooth pebbles Finn had taught her he needed to be able to skip rocks, Lorelei removed her tennis shoes and dug her toes into the cool, gritty sand. This place was beginning to feel like an old friend. She was always eager to return, especially with Finn. Being out in the mellow sun and the breeze felt wonderful, and the beauty she encountered never got old. But the conversation was the best part. When she and Finn were together, they talked about all kinds of things.
She was most interested in hearing about his work. That he could be so masterful at something so difficult inspired her. She asked him what he hoped to achieve in his career; he said it would be incredible if he could get his paintings into some of the most exclusive galleries around the world, but he’d be happy if he could just earn enough to support himself doing what he loved. She asked what served as his inspiration; this had been harder for him to define—he said almost anything could inspire a painting. Something had to agitate his imagination in such a way that he was excited about re-creating it. And how long did it take him to complete a painting? Anywhere from one to six months, depending on the size, the level of detail and the level of difficulty.
She got the impression the walks they took were research for him. He’d decided that he wanted to do a nature scene. So he was trying to gain a true sense of this place, to become acquainted with it well enough to paint it, which was why they’d also driven around the lake last night with Serenity and Reagan. Painting something was an intimate experience, he’d explained. He couldn’t capture the true essence of any subject from a distance.
“You have to be inside it to really bring it to life,” he’d said earnestly.
Lorelei wasn’t sure exactly what he meant by that, but he was so animated when he spoke about his work that she loved engaging him on the subject. He was unlike anyone she’d ever met—a dreamer, someone who viewed life from an entirely different perspective. One she found unique and refreshing.
Occasionally, he stopped to take a photograph, but she didn’t get the impression that he’d settled on the scene he wanted to create quite yet. He was still searching. She could tell by the way he measured everything with his eyes.
“When are we going to Hidden Cove?” he asked as they stood on several rocks jutting out into the lake and gazed at the sunshine reflecting off the water.
Lucy was farther up the beach. She’d found a beetle and was crouched over it, watching it make its way slowly across the sand.
“I don’t know,” she said and averted her face so he couldn’t realize she wasn’t planning to go to Hidden Cove, after all. When the subject of the nude beach had first come up, visiting it had seemed innocuous. People went to nude beaches all the time. It didn’t make them any worse than anyone else. But Finn had been a stranger to her when that idea was born, someone who held no real significance in her life.
Now...things had changed. She’d become too aware of him on a sexual level. Going to a nude beach with Finn would make her feel a little predatory—because she’d no longer be going just to prove that she was capable of stepping out of the confines of her former life and living a little. She’d be going because she wanted to see what he’d reveal when he tossed aside his clothes.
“You’re not interested anymore?” he asked.
“I don’t think so.”
His eyebrows furrowed. “Why not? You were pretty gung ho last week.”
She was even more interested this week. But for all the wrong reasons. That was the problem.
“Has something changed?” he asked.
“Not really, no.” She suspected he knew what was happening and that he was trying to get her to say it, but she couldn’t ruin a perfectly good friendship by admitting that her feelings for him were growing out of control. That when he spoke, she sometimes watched his lips and imagined them on her body, moving over her breasts, down her stomach—lower.
Feeling her face heat, she jumped off the rock and began to wade in the cold water up to her ankles. No matter what happened in Tahoe, she had to return to Florida eventually. Had to deal with her marriage—or her divorce—and what she was going to do for a living. She’d decided, either way, she was reentering the job market and would no longer rely on Mark or anyone else to provide her living. Lucy was almost in school; she could manage, especially because the second child she and Mark had been discussing wasn’t a possibility anymore—now that he was having a baby with someone else.
Anyway, she’d have to leave this idyllic place soon enough. She wasn’t going to ruin the time she did have here. She’d promised herself one precious summer, and she was going to have it.
“Have you heard from Mark lately?” he pressed, following her.
She thought of her husband’s text message of a few minutes ago. She hadn’t said anything to Finn, but she guessed he’d noticed the way she’d glanced at her phone and returned it to her pocket. “That was who just messaged me.”
“What’d he say?”
She took out her phone to show him.
“Do you believe him?” he asked when he handed it back.
“I don’t know what to believe. I got a text from Francine last night, imploring me to have a conversation with her. When I didn’t respond, she said, ‘What do you want me to do? Abort this baby? Give it up for adoption?’”
“Is that what you want?” he asked.
“Part of me does,” she admitted. “She doesn’t deserve a child, not considering how she got it. But that’s the jealousy and anger speaking. The better part of me, when I allow that part to take control, has to acknowledge that the child didn’t do anything. I don’t want this baby to be raised the way I was raised. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”
He shoved his hands in the pockets of his linen shorts. “So what’s the answer?”
She toed a smooth, flat rock and pulled it out of the water for Lucy, knowing her daughter would eventually forget about the beetle and come ask Finn to skip rocks. “I’m not even going to think about it,” she said. “Not until September.”