As she sat down to finish Jagger’s tattoo, anxious to share her news with Brant, she pictured his deep dimples and brilliant blue eyes and felt herself smiling. She missed him already. Maybe it was time to start dreaming bigger—about a life, and a future, she never before dared to imagine.
Cait was still buzzing later that evening as she packed for the Cape. Brant was taking her over again on his boat, and she’d looked forward to it all day. When she’d told him about the mural, he was so excited for her, it made the opportunity feel even more thrilling. She’d left a message for Deirdra and had shared her news with Tank, who had reiterated that she could work as many or as few hours as she wanted at Wicked Ink. She’d even called Shelley, since she was the one who had brought her to the island in the first place, but Faye had already spilled the beans.
She zipped her overnight bag and went into the living room to get her sketchbook from the table, and as she picked it up, she remembered Brant looking at her pictures. She crossed the room and studied the photograph of her with Tank, Gunner, Baz, and their cousin Justin “Maverick” Wicked. She tried to see the picture through Brant’s eyes and realized why he’d been curious. Despite her smile, Tank looked like he was holding Cait against her will, which he had been. She’d tried to get out of the booth to escape having her picture taken, and Tank had hauled her back against him, refusing to let her go. Get in here. You’re family. She felt a tug in her chest. Could she ever leave the safety of the life she’d built on the Cape to move to the island full-time and make a go of things there with her sisters . . . and maybe even Brant?
A shiver of trepidation moved through her at the thought of leaving her safe haven behind, even though she loved the life she was building on the island. She hated the uncertainty and fear of the unknown and knew it was her father’s evilness still lurking, poking holes in the goodness in her life.
She squeezed her eyes shut, pushing those thoughts away, and went back to the bedroom to put the sketchbook in her backpack. Her phone rang, and she pulled it out and saw Deirdra’s name on the screen.
“I guess I know where I stand on your priority list.” Cait was only joking. She knew how busy Deirdra was.
“Sorry. I’ve been in meetings since the ass-crack of dawn.” Deirdra sounded tired. “What’s the good news you wanted to talk to me about?”
Cait told her about the offer from the mayor.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” Deirdra said excitedly. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day! You’re going to do it, right?”
“I don’t know. I’m meeting with them in a couple of weeks to check it out. Abby thinks it’s a sign because Ava started over here.”
“The hippie must be wearing off on our starry-eyed sister,” Deirdra said with a hint of distaste. She called Jagger the hippie and did nothing to hide her aversion to his lifestyle. “I’m really proud of you. This is a big deal.”
“Thanks. Does that mean if I take on the project, you’ll come to the island and see the mural?” Deirdra had too much resentment toward Ava to see the charm of the island the way Cait and Abby did. She buried herself in work and had excuses at the ready not to visit. But Cait held out hope that time might heal those wounds.
“What do you think?”
“I think you never leave your office, and I bet you’re still there.” When Deirdra didn’t respond, Cait knew she was still at work. “Dee, don’t you worry about getting burnt out?”
“No, but I worry I might kill my boss and you guys will have to come visit me in prison.”
“Then I should probably do the mural so we have bail money.”
They both laughed.
“I’ll come see the mural, Cait. Are things good with Brant?”
Cait sighed. “Yes. He’s taking me to the Cape in a few minutes.”
“I’m happy for you. After everything you’ve been through, you deserve to be with the good one.”
“You know about that?” Cait laughed.
“Silver Island is so small, if you fart, everyone knows about it. Just remember that I’ll come to the island to kick his butt if you need me to.”
“Yeah, right. We both know I’d have to schedule the butt kicking with your assistant.” Cait shouldered her backpack and reached for her overnight bag as Deirdra griped about the late night ahead of her. A knock sounded at her door, sending Cait’s pulse racing. “Hey, Dee, I’m really sorry, but Brant’s here. I’ve got to go. Don’t work too late.”
She ended the call and headed down the hall, wondering when she’d turned into one of those girls who got fluttery and dropped everything to see a guy. She hadn’t even been like that when things were good with Frank. Then again, why would she have? They’d never even spent a whole night together, much less talked about anything real. How had she ever thought that was treating her well? Frank hadn’t cared about her. She’d merely been a sidepiece to him, whereas Brant made her feel like she was his entire world. And as scary as it was, he was becoming the biggest part of hers, too. That realization sent those butterflies swarming. She dropped her bags and let those butterflies fly as she opened the door.
“Congratulations!” Brant was holding a bundle of balloons and an enormous box of chocolates in one hand, a vase full of gorgeous wildflowers in the other, and across his chest he wore the doggy sling, their pooch’s adorable head peeking out of it.
Her heart skipped. “What is all this?”
“We’re celebrating.” He kissed her as he came inside. “This is a momentous day for you. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got a little of everything.” He set the vase and chocolates on the counter and let go of the balloons, and they floated to the ceiling, their long colorful ribbons dangling around them like streamers.
“Brant . . . ?” Her eyes dampened. “Thank you, but this is way too much.”
He put Scrappy on the floor and set the sling on the counter, drawing Cait into his arms. “No, angel. This is just the tip of the iceberg. You’re being discovered. Do you know how big that is?”
His belief in her brought an onslaught of happy feelings. “It’s just a mural. It’s not like I’m Picasso.”
“You’re better than Picasso. You’re Cait Weatherby, artist extraordinaire.”
She laughed, overwhelmed by this guy who’d waltzed into her life and for some unknown reason wanted to make it even better. “I love that you did this for me, but you really don’t need to buy me things to celebrate.” She grabbed his shirt, tugging his mouth closer to hers. “This is all I need.” She went up on her toes and kissed him.
“We need more of that, but I’m still going to buy you things because I’m your guy, and I love seeing you smile.” He kissed her again. “I have a little news, too. It’s not nearly as exciting as yours, but some of your good fortune must have rubbed off on me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I picked up a new client today, and he’s got a 1928 Chris Craft Triple Cockpit. It’s a sweet little antique in tragic shape, and guess who’s refitting it?”
“My overzealous gift bearer?”