“Don’t be silly. Making them gives me a reason to hang out with my mother and grandmother and their friends for the day.”
“And we reap the benefits. Your generosity makes the shops on Main Street the most beautiful on the island.” Mrs. Smythe turned her warm brown eyes on him. “Grant Silver, bless your heart. How are you, darling?”
“I’m well, thank you. I was going to ask how Jay was, but I understand congratulations are in order. Please give him my best.”
“I will, thank you. Little Missy is just precious. Of course, I might be a little biased, and Jay is a wonderful father. He’s working too hard, and not visiting enough, but I remember how life gets busier once babies come along.” She looked at Grant thoughtfully. “I spoke to your parents at the Halloween party. They’re so happy you’re home.”
He wasn’t so sure they’d say that after the argument they’d had.
“I wanted to say hello to you that night.” Mrs. Smythe put the wreath on the counter and said, “But you seemed preoccupied, and I didn’t want to bother you.”
He had been preoccupied, with getting out of there, but he kept that to himself. “It wouldn’t have been a bother. It’s nice to see you.”
“Can I…?” Mrs. Smythe made a tsk sound, her brow furrowing. “Can I hug you? I’m just so happy you’re okay.”
Aw hell. “Sure, thank you.”
She gave him a not-so-quick hug and stepped back with a grateful glimmer in her eyes. “We’re all very proud of you, and look at you, coming back to the island and scooping up the sweetest girl we’ve got.”
Jules grinned, and Grant took her hand, giving it a squeeze. “I’m a lucky guy.”
“Yes, you are, and don’t you forget it.” Mrs. Smythe shook her finger at him. “What else are you up to these days?”
“I’m working down at the marina with Brant and doing a little painting.” He was surprised he’d admitted that he was painting, but it had become a nightly habit that he looked forward to. He glanced at Jules, watching him adoringly. I’m painting because of you, babe. I’m here, and happier because of you. He looked forward to the two of them becoming a nightly habit, too.
“I remember the summer you learned to paint,” Mrs. Smythe said. “You spent more time at the Bistro with Olivier than with Jay and the rest of the boys. You were always so talented. I hope we’ll see your paintings around the shops again in the coming months.”
“That’s awfully kind of you to say. Thank you.”
They talked for another few minutes, and when they walked outside, he pulled Jules into his arms beneath the awning. “I’m going out with the most loved girl on the island. Now I know what the mayor’s wife feels like.”
Jules giggled. “Thank you for putting up with all the attention. I know it bugs you, but everyone loves you, too, and they’re happy you’re back.”
“They pity me. I usually see it in their eyes.”
“Did you think she looked at you with pity?”
“No. I haven’t seen that tonight, but it’s usually there.”
“I think you’re misreading caution for pity. Everyone wants to talk to you, but they aren’t sure if they should.”
“What does that mean?”
“You know. Sometimes you have a standoffish vibe.”
He couldn’t argue with that, but if he was going to be with Jules, he needed to keep an eye on how he came across to others. “I’ll try to fix that. But it never stopped you from coming near me.”
“Because I’m not afraid of your grumpiness. Besides, I would have done anything to see you happier for Bellamy.”
He waggled his brows. “Anything?”
Crimson stained her cheeks. “Hush. You’re embarrassing me.”
Loving that streak of innocence, and not quite ready to let her go, he lowered his lips to hers, taking the kiss he’d been dying for since they started delivering wreaths. When their lips parted, her eyes darted nervously around them.
“Are there rules to dating you that I should be aware of, like no kissing Silver Island’s Sweetheart in public? Because I might have a problem with that. I’m not very good at keeping my lips to myself around you.”
“No. I’ve just never been like this. I’m not used to kissing in public.”
“Okay.” He put space between them. “I respect that.”
“Don’t stop,” she said, pulling him close again.
“You’re so cute, you make me want to kiss you again, and then I’ll get in trouble for doing it.”
“I want to kiss you, too,” she said sweetly.
“God, you’re killing me, Jules.” He lowered his lips to hers again.
“Hey!” she exclaimed as their lips parted. “I just realized that you told Mrs. Smythe you were painting again.”
“Kissing me made you realize that? Your mind works in mysterious ways, Pix.”
“I was thinking about what it would be like if she came out here and caught us kissing, which made me think about our conversation. I was surprised that you told her.” Her eyes widened. “Oh no. Did I miss any paintings? Did you throw any out this morning?”
“What do you think? I couldn’t sleep and I couldn’t stop thinking about you. So yeah, I threw one out, but my trash doesn’t get picked up for another two days.” He didn’t tell her about the other picture of the soldier with the pixie on his shoulder, the one he’d hung in his bedroom before coming to see her tonight.
“Thank goodness. We’ll go to your place and get it as soon as we’re done giving out the wreaths.” She poked his chest. “You’re lucky it didn’t get picked up yet, or I’d make you go with me to the landfill to find it.”
He laughed. “I’m lucky all right.” He kissed her again, deeper this time. She clung to his jacket, going up on her toes, meeting his efforts with fervor. His body flamed, and he wished they were someplace private. He was hard, and she felt so damn good, he’d like to strip her down and fuck her senseless.
“Your kisses make me tingle all over.”
He couldn’t resist making her blush again, and he pressed his cheek to hers, speaking into her ear. “Wait until I get you alone. I’m going to kiss you all over and turn those tingles into fireworks.”
“Grant! How am I supposed to look people in the eyes with that on my mind?”
“I don’t know, but I really like seeing you flustered, so…” He started to lower his lips to hers, and she pushed him away playfully.
“Oh, no you don’t, big guy. We have wreaths to deliver, and my legs need to function or you’ll be pulling me in that wagon.”
She picked up the wagon handle. He took it from her, walking down the sidewalk, and reality hit him like a gust of cold wind. She made him feel so much like his old self again, he’d completely forgotten that if he really wanted to give her fireworks, she’d have to see his leg.
“Wait.” She stopped at the next shop, which was empty and had a FOR RENT sign in the window, and she plucked a wreath from the wagon.
As she hung it on the hook hanging over the door, he said, “Is that hook always there?”