He’d changed a lot in the three weeks since Halloween, and he was so much happier. Without all that anger, and with new things to focus on, he was far more approachable, and she loved how sexually demanding he’d become. He wasn’t domineering, and he never pushed her into doing anything that she didn’t want to, but he wanted her all the time, which suited her just fine, because she was just as insatiable for him. He’d awoken some sort of sexual dynamo in her, and she knew that part of herself had been waiting for him all along.
She tucked her hair dryer beneath the sink and brushed her teeth, setting her toothbrush beside his in the holder. When she’d come over last Monday evening, he’d had those things waiting for her, and they’d been staying at the bungalow ever since. He was happy to go to her place, but she liked it better at his, where he had the accessories he needed to be comfortable. Besides, she loved being in his space, where they’d first come together, watching him paint in his studio, and loving up Crash. She’d moved all the flowers he’d sent into her shop so she could enjoy them before they wilted, and Grant had remained true to his word in watering them. He stopped by every day with lunch, or just for a kiss, and filled their vases with fresh water—and her with inescapable goodness.
Her phone chimed with a text. She’d been group texting with Tara, Bellamy, and Daphne all morning. This weekend had kicked off the start of flotilla decorations. Many of the shops, like the Happy End, were closed today, and the marinas all around the island would be filled with families decorating their boats. She and Grant were leaving soon to help Brant decorate his boat at Rock Harbor Marina, where her family was also decorating theirs. She opened the text, and a selfie of Bellamy popped up. She was grinning like a fool, standing in front of the Silver House yacht in Silver Harbor by the resort, and behind her, her family was on the boat erecting toy soldiers for their Nutcracker theme. Another message from Bellamy popped up. We’re going to kick butt this year!
A text from Tara rolled in with a picture she’d taken looking down at the docks of about a dozen boats being decorated, with the caption Tough competition! Jules thumbed out a response as she headed into the living room, A Magic Pixie Christmas is going to win! She still couldn’t believe that Grant had somehow convinced Brant to go with a pixie theme, and it thrilled her to pieces!
She found Grant pacing as he talked on the phone. His laptop was open, and the printer was churning away on the desk they’d bought earlier in the week and had set by the front window. He’d dived headfirst into finding a way to help amputees this week, and she was getting a good taste of what her man was like when he had a mission. He wasn’t like a dog with a bone. He was a whole darn pack of dogs digging up dinosaur bones and stacking them into a pile higher than Mount Everest.
He turned, and the warm, sexy smile she loved appeared. He held up one finger, mouthing, I’ll only be a minute. Last night he’d gotten a call from Titus and had spent more than an hour behind closed doors discussing something top secret. When Grant had come out of his studio, he’d been pumped, and though he couldn’t share the top-secret details, he’d told her enough to show how much Titus trusted Grant’s opinion. He and Titus had texted several times over the next few hours. There was a world of difference between hearing how much Grant loved consulting with Titus and experiencing it firsthand. Her humble Grant had downplayed it as much as he’d downplayed just about everything else he did.
She went across the room to sit on the window seat they’d built, which they’d decided to keep there by the bay window for now, since it’s where they were spending their evenings. Crash was fast asleep on the cushion with his catnip mouse lying by his head. He’d stopped carrying the frayed green bow around. It now resided in his cat bed in the bedroom, where Crash slept every night—at least until she and Grant fell asleep, because he was always on the bed when they woke up.
The bungalow was feeling homier by the day. They’d chosen a few pictures of Grant’s family from Jules’s stash of photos and hung them by the bay window. After some coaxing, Grant had also hung up two of the paintings he’d made since talking with his parents. One of the paintings was of a young boy sitting on the porch steps of the bungalow, his arms crossed over his knees and his forehead resting on them. Before him was the transparent form of a man, his strong arms circling the boy but not touching him. The second painting was the inside of a rocky cavern. Sunlight spilled over jagged rocks from a small opening at the top of the cavern, illuminating a seedling of a tree, its thin branches reaching for that light. Grant shared his thoughts with her often, but she knew those were only glimpses. He worked so hard to protect her from his more torturous inner thoughts. She clung to the hope those paintings signified. He hadn’t hung up the picture of himself looking in the mirror at the fire-filled warrior, or the one he’d painted last Monday night of the family on the beach. They were against the wall in the studio, and she let them be. She knew he was struggling with what they represented, and one day she hoped he’d figure it all out.
Grant had put up a few fun pictures in his studio of himself and his siblings, and of him, Jules’s brothers, and Brant. Grant hadn’t told her about the other pictures she’d discovered hanging in his studio Thursday morning when she’d followed Crash into the room—the three selfies she’d sent him last weekend.
“Thanks, Sage, I appreciate that,” Grant said into the phone. “I’ll let him know.” He ended the call and pocketed his phone. “Hey, babe. That was Brant’s cousin Sage. He runs Hydration for Creation, a company that auctions art and uses the proceeds to build wells in newly developing nations. He gave me some great information and the name of the attorney he used to put his company together.”
“That’s fantastic. I know Sage,” she said coyly. “Six-four, tattooed arms, gun-metal blue eyes.” She’d met Sage several times, and he’d visited Brant’s family in the spring with his wife and daughter. But she kept that to herself. She’d never had a guy get jealous over her before, and even though she was probably enjoying it way too much, she couldn’t resist teasing Grant.
Grant gritted his teeth. “Yeah, that’s the guy.”
“He’s a hard guy to forget.” She sauntered over to him and dragged her finger down the center of his chest. “Almost as hard to forget as my guy.”
Grant hauled her against him, his eyes boring into her, causing her to giggle. “Do you enjoy making me crazy?”
“More than you could ever know, but you’re the only man I want.” She kissed him. “Besides, Sage is too old for me.”
He growled, and she kissed him again. In pure Grant style, he deepened the kiss so deliciously, her body tingled and burned for more. But they didn’t have time for a make-out session, so she pushed back before they got carried away and said, “I’m glad Sage was helpful. But we have to get going. We have a boat to decorate!”
ROCK HARBOR MARINA was bustling. People had been coming and going all day, carrying boxes of decorations and shouting from one boat to the next. Lenore and the rest of the Bra Brigaders kept a steady supply of refreshments on long tables set up on the docks, where friends gathered to catch up and egg one another on over who was going to win the decorating contest this year. Jules stood on Brant’s boat, helping them decorate in the slip beside her family’s boat.