Satisfied, she may have taken a slight detour on her way back to the studio, for the exercise, she told herself. Besides, it was a beautiful day for a bike ride. She didn’t often get out this way, and on the off chance that Simon happened to be, say, sitting on his porch, or working in the yard, she could stop, chat, and…
This was where the plan ended. Her knees had wobbled so hard that she’d nearly lost control of the bike as she’d turned onto his road, telling herself that she was free to go where she pleased, just like all the other tourists on their bikes, who had no idea that they happened to be pedaling past the summer house of possibly the world’s most handsome bachelor.
Because he was a bachelor. Until he was a married man. And from the sounds of things the other night, he might not really be getting married after all.
But no one had been outside the Webber house, and it was clear from the way the house looked dark and closed up that no one was home. Here on the island, few people had air-conditioning; really, there was no need for it. Windows were cracked, fresh air was let in, and even the hottest of days were made bearable by the lake effect.
Simon was not home. She felt as let down as she did pleased by this. If he wasn’t home, he would be in town. And she intended to find him.
She dropped her new painting and supplies off at the studio, and left her bike parked outside. It was Saturday and it was a sunny afternoon and the tourists were out and about, buying fudge and ice cream and renting bikes for a lap around the perimeter of the island—something she and Simon used to do so often that she had every twist and turn of the path burned into her memory as vivid as the taste of his lips against hers.
Now, she avoided that route. Took her shortcuts around the island. And Simon would probably be dodging the crawl of tourists who used to slow them down, make them share a glance and a smile, and give them an excuse to park their bikes on the closest patch of sand and climb up onto one of the big rocks that was half-submerged in the water, thigh to thigh, hand in hand.
She knew that Simon would be in none of those places. Simon would be at Hackney’s, Trillium Café, or maybe even the Dockside Grill. And she might just be frequenting one (or all?) of them today.
Maybe she’d see if Naomi wanted to join her. Or maybe she’d push her luck and go alone, see if her heart could handle another evening alone with Simon and all the emotions that he stirred up inside her.
Even now, if she closed her eyes, she could still feel the sensation of his kiss, the exact pressure of his mouth, the way he was always the last to pull away.
Right, she thought sternly, snapping herself out of it. She clearly needed a chaperone. She’d find Naomi. She needed to collect her check from her anyway.
She turned her bike at the next corner, slowing as she approached Lakeside Gifts. Up ahead, she saw Naomi standing a few storefronts down from her shop. She had seasonal help—a girl from Notre Dame who lived on the island from May through the end of August. Still, it was unlike her to step away from the store. Unless…
Ellie quickened her step and saw that, sure enough, Naomi was holding the small pocket flask she’d inherited from her grandfather half a decade ago. She rarely pulled it out, and had made a promise to old Pops to only keep his favorite whiskey in it, something that she’d rolled her eyes over at the time but still honored.
Ellie smothered a smile and willed herself not to laugh as she approached her friend. After all, this was a very stressful time for Naomi. Very, very hard on her nerves.
“They said hello,” Naomi hissed through wild eyes, and Ellie had to bite down on her lower lip. Hard. Through the open window, she could hear Jewel squawking loudly.
“Hello?” he called. “Hello? Helloooo? Hello. Hello?”
It was truly amazing just how many inflections of a single word that bird could conjure up.
She sighed and rested a hand on Naomi’s shoulder. “How long has it been going on for?”
“Forty-five minutes,” Naomi said, blinking back tears. “And the shop doesn’t close until nine tonight.”
The bird squawked louder, desperate to get a response, and beside her, Naomi choked down another sip of her grandfather’s favorite libation.
“The thing is,” Ellie said gently. “Most people say…hello.”
“Shhhh!” Naomi’s eyes were huge as she turned to stare at her head-on. “He’ll hear you,” she whispered urgently. “He was just about to quiet down.”
Was he? Ellie wasn’t so sure of that. Still, the squawking did get a little louder. Frantic, really.
Naomi screwed the cap back on the flask. “It’s going to be a long afternoon,” she sighed, staring miserably down Main Street.
“Do you want me to take him to the studio?”
Naomi looked tempted, but then she shook her head. “The cage is too big to carry. Besides, I love the little guy. I just…” She gripped Ellie’s elbow as the bird let out another squawk. “That word! It won’t stop! I hear it even in my dreams!”
Now Ellie laughed. She had to. “Who was the offender this time?” she asked. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, it ruined Naomi’s entire day. He didn’t stop until the shop closed and a blanket was put over his cage.
“A kid,” Naomi sighed. “I shouldn’t be mad, but…I’m sort of boiling.”
“Let your assistant cover for the rest of the day then. I’m thinking of getting a drink. Or a coffee.” Or…or where else could Simon be?
“Thanks, but we’re swamped. Nice weather. Can’t complain.”
“Well, if you change your mind, call me,” Ellie said.
Naomi nodded wearily as she stepped back into the shop. The bird calls were at a feverous pitch now. “I will. And thanks.”
“That’s what friends are for,” she said, grinning. And it was, she thought, as she continued down the street. And it was another reason why there was no way in hell she was going to let her sisters talk her into selling Sunset Cottage.
She made quick stops at the other shops, taking down notes of the orders they wanted—taking special pride in Hill Street Gallery’s desire to showcase one of her larger paintings in their storefront window next week—and decided to go home, face her sisters, maybe chat with Hope a bit. Maybe Hope would hear her out, guide Gemma down the right path. Make her see that Sunset Cottage was the only thing good from their childhood. The only thing worth keeping.
She was halfway up West End Road when she heard her name being called out.
Her heart gave a lurch, and she steadied the handles of her bike. It couldn’t be. It was too good to be true. But as he called out again, she knew that it was him.
She slowed her pace as he caught up beside her, riding, to her complete amusement, a mint green cruiser complete with a white wicker basket.
“Don’t laugh,” he warned, but it was too late.
“Isn’t that your sister’s bike?” She hadn’t thought of it in years, but it was, she was certain of it. Simon’s sister Gina was four years older than him—she used to play with Hope.
“Something seems to have happened to mine in my absence,” he said ruefully.
“A lesson in not staying away so long next time,” she replied, but even though she was grinning, flirting even, she meant it.