As Josh’s question swirled through Hope’s mind, her muscles tensed. She pulled her arm back because her fingers trembled when she was stressed. That was the only way to describe how she felt at the moment.
“If you don’t want to answer, that’s fine,” Josh said. “But I haven’t met many people who’ve been through something similar.”
“I understand.” And she did. “This isn’t a big secret. Most people in Indigo Bay know, but talking about it…”
“Is hard,” he finished for her.
Oh so hard. But if she didn’t tell Josh, an internet search or someone in town would. She wanted him to know her side of the story—the truth.
Besides, he’d been through this himself. Not the same situation but close enough. He wouldn’t judge her as others had.
Ignoring her tense body, she made herself sit taller. “Since my divorce, I haven’t painted any works like the one we picked up today. I’ve tried, gone to counseling, tried again. But the canvas remains blank no matter what I do.”
Realization dawned on his face. “That’s what Cami meant about you painting.”
Hope hadn’t known if Josh had heard that or not. Guess so.
She nodded. “It’s been two years.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“It is what it is.” She’d accepted not being able to paint as she once had. That was the only way to keep from being consumed by bitterness over Adam’s betrayal. “Fortunately, I’m able to paint in different ways from before and still earn a living selling those pieces.”
“You figured a way to keep your passion for art alive and a part of your life.” His gaze—full of understanding—met hers. “That’s why I took the broadcaster job.”
She never thought they’d have so much in common. “I have, but…”
“What?”
A stone settled in her stomach. “I’m scared I won’t be able to repair the painting, but I have to try, even if I disappoint Cami and Dan.”
“You’ll do it.” His conviction surprised her. “Cami and Dan believe in you. So do I.”
Hope appreciated his words—needed them—but she had to ask. “We hardly know each other. Why are you so certain I can do this?”
“You want to help others. That’s why you’re here today. To do what you can for Cami and Dan. Restoring their piece might be what you need to heal from whatever is keeping you from painting. A spark will ignite that passion again.”
If only… “I would love that, but I’ve been disappointed before. I’m not holding my breath.”
“Well, if you were holding your breath, you’d turn blue or pass out. It’s good you aren’t.”
That made her smile. Hope liked how she and Josh could talk about serious things, yet he’d add a dash of humor to keep things from getting too heavy.
Russ delivered their strawberry lemonades and two straws. “Did you know what you want to eat?”
“The Junior Platter for two,” Josh said.
Russ picked up the menus. “Excellent choice. I’ll get your order right in.”
“Thanks.” As soon as Russ was gone, Josh leaned forward, his gaze intent on her. “Full disclosure, I’m ready to go into busybody listening mode if you feel like telling me what happened with your divorce.”
A few people had tried to get her to share juicy details others didn’t know, but Hope found his honesty refreshing.
She unwrapped her straw, then stuck it in her glass. “Adam Darby, my ex-husband, is well-known in the art world. I met him at an exhibit when I was twenty-two. He became my manager and then my boyfriend. Three months later, we married. His connections gave me opportunities most artists only dream about. It helped that people liked my work, but I can’t deny the role Adam played in my success.”
As Josh sipped his drink, Hope tore the straw wrapper into tiny pieces.
“We’d been married for four years when the biggest show of my career was coming up. Some pieces were at the gallery, but most were still in my studio at our loft. Adam had set up an interview for me. During it, I talked about being married to my manager and wanting to have kids. The day after the interview went live, another artist he represented came to see me. She arrived at my door in tears, saying Adam had told her we were getting a divorce. That he was going to marry her. Turns out they’d been having an affair for months. The news blindsided me. I’d been working so hard on the show I had no idea.”
Josh rubbed his chin. “I can’t imagine the shock.”
“I was hurt and numb at the same time. I wish I could say I instantly knew what I would do, but I’d be lying. I loved him. I truly believed he loved me.”
With a trembling hand, Hope raised her glass and sipped.
Josh slid out of his side of the booth, scooted next to Hope, and placed his arm around her. “Since you are busy destroying the straw wrapper, I can’t hold your hand like you did mine. I figured this was the next best way to comfort you.”
“Works for me.” His strong, warm body made her feel safe. “That night, I confronted Adam at our loft. I was angry, but he was perfectly calm. I guess he’d been expecting a confrontation and was ready. He blamed me for his affair—said I wasn’t giving him the attention he needed. He told me he forgave me for ignoring him, and he wanted to make our marriage work. He thought attending couple’s counseling would help us move forward.”
Josh’s mouth gaped. “The guy had nerve.”
“Adam is charismatic and used to getting his way. He didn’t think this would be any different.” She raised her chin. “I told him I wanted a divorce because there was no way I could stay married to him, knowing he’d been lying all these months and blaming me for what he’d done. He was livid I would consider leaving him. His ego was that big. He wanted both a wife and a mistress. I said no, and he threatened to destroy me before he would let me go. Usually, I could calm him down when he was upset, but not that time. I left and stayed with two of our friends at their place. The next day, I went back to the apartment. My friends came with me. And…”
Josh gave her a squeeze. “You don’t have to keep going.”
“It’s okay.” She wanted to continue. “The more times I tell it, the less power what happened has on me. At least that’s what a counselor told me.”
But she hadn’t talked about this to anyone in a while. It would be good to gauge her reaction to telling this story again.
“The loft looked as if a hurricane had ripped through it. My clothes had been shredded. Everything of mine was destroyed, including all the pieces for the show.”
Josh’s nostrils flared. His face reddened. “Hope…”
“This was two years ago. It’s not worth getting angry over.”
“You’re worth it.”
Her heart bumped. “Thanks. My biggest mistake was returning to the apartment without the police. Adam paid off my two so-called friends to back up his claim I’d done the damage in a drunken, jealous fit over his affair. He’d placed empty bottles of alcohol all over the apartment, which was weird because we only drank wine, but that must have been part of his plan to ruin me.”
“No wonder you don’t like bananas.”
Hope’s mouth slanted. “You have no idea.”
As she sipped her lemonade, her hand was steady. Progress.
“While I was at the apartment that morning, he was with his attorney planning to file for a divorce before I could. He described me as a psychotic, scorned woman who destroyed a dozen of her own paintings and their loft.”
Josh swore under his breath. “I know a guy who knows a guy…”
“Two years ago, I may have taken you up on that, but Adam Darby isn’t worth the effort or the jail time.” Josh hadn’t loosened his hold on her. If anything, he held her closer, and she found strength in his nearness. “Everyone we knew—and strangers, too—believed his lies. I went from being a beloved up-and-coming artist to a pariah. His lover somehow convinced him to get the gallery to let her take over my show. By then, Von had driven up to help me try to salvage what we could from the loft. After I returned to Indigo Bay, I thought painting would help me heal, but I couldn’t. Every time I tried, I saw those broken frames and ripped canvases. All those months of work… gone.”
“That’s understandable.”
“I’ve done therapy, weekend workshops, hypnosis, but that part of my creativity isn’t there anymore.”
“Unless it’s hibernating.”
“Time to wake up if that’s the case. Two springs have passed.”
“If it’s any consolation, being in the broadcast booth kept me in football, but that wasn’t enough to stop the regrets and bitterness from getting the worst of me. The only thing that helped was drinking.”
“Oh, Josh. I’m so sorry.” She sank against him, but he didn’t seem to mind. “We are quite the pair, aren’t we?”
He rubbed her arm. “I told you we made a good team. We can support and help each other.”
Hope nodded. “That would be great. The worst part about not painting is I feel like I’m allowing Adam to win.”
“You won by getting away from him.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “That’s what my brother says.”
“He’s right,” Josh said. “You went through so much, and you may have tried to go back to painting too soon. Maybe you should try again.”
“Unfortunately, the urge to paint isn’t there. Before, I couldn’t stop myself from working on a project, but now… nothing. Maybe I need more time.”
“See what happens with the restoration first, but your ex deserves whatever bad karma comes his way.”
“I try not to think about him.”
“Smart.” Josh dropped his gaze to the table. “I’m sorry I brought him up.”
“Hey, it’s okay. You didn’t force me to talk. I wanted to tell you what happened.” Hope wasn’t upset at all. “If you’d done an internet search, the results would make you think I was an insane artist who should be avoided at all costs.”
His face fell. After loosening his arm from around her, he leaned away.
She had no idea what was going on or why he’d shut down. “Are you okay?”
“I need to tell you what you would have found if you’d searched me. The drinking I mentioned…” He dragged his hand over his face. “I’m a recovering alcoholic who was arrested in July for threatening a barista, spent three months in rehab, and am on a medical leave of absence from the network while I get sober.”
“Oh, Josh. You’ve gone through so much.”
Not being able to paint seemed minor compared to what could have happened to her if she hadn’t had Von around to take care of her. It was her turn to reach out to him.
She angled toward him, reaching to touch his arm. “How’s your recovery going?”
“I’m heading toward my eleventh month of being sober.”
“That’s great, but I imagine it’s been a rough time.”
“Rough isn’t always a bad thing,” he admitted. “Getting drunk was easy; staying sober is difficult but worth it.”
“We haven’t known each other long, but I’m proud of you.”
“Right back at you.” He winked. “But I still might have to do an internet search on you to see how cray-cray your jerk of an ex made you out to be.”
Laughing after a serious conversation wasn’t what she expected to be doing, but it felt good. Right. The same way being with Josh felt.
“Looks like the two of you are having a good time.” Russ and another server, wearing a similar outfit, arrived with two trays full of meat, sides, plates, and utensils. “Enjoy your Junior Platter.”
Hope stared in awe at the table filled with baked beans, fried okra, coleslaw, potato wedges, cornbread, and a platter of brisket, ribs, and chicken. “There’s enough to feed eight people and still have leftovers to take home.”
“Then it’s a good thing we’re not in a hurry, and I have a fridge in the plane.” He raised his glass of lemonade. “To delicious food and new friends.”
Feeling an unfamiliar sense of contentment, she tapped her glass against his. “You can never have enough of either. Especially friends.”
* * *
That afternoon, Josh stood behind Hope on her front porch as she dug through her purse for her keys. He held onto the box with the painting even though Hope could have carried it herself. Truth was after such a great day, he wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
He’d rather take off with her again. Fly around so they could spend more time together with zero interference from phone calls, texts, waiters, or fans. So far, they’d talked about their families, college, her painting, and his broadcasting, but he wanted to learn more about Hope.
Who was he kidding?
He wanted to know everything about her.
She glanced over her shoulder “My keys are in here somewhere.”
“I’m in no rush.” The alternative was being alone. He’d rather stay here with Hope as long as possible.
Metal clanked together.
“Here they are.” She unlocked the front door, then pushed it open. “My studio is down the hallway.”
Josh stepped inside, eyes widening. He felt as if he’d stepped onto a set for a home decorating show. From the vaulted beam ceiling to the wide plank flooring to the comfortable couch against the wall, everything fit together. Comfortable and homey. He whistled. “I thought the house looked great on the outside, but the interior is amazing.”
“This was one of my brother’s first remodels and his first attempt at an open-floor plan.” She spoke with pride. “Von says he wants to redo the house, but I keep telling him you can’t improve upon perfection.”
“He nailed it.”
Josh followed her down the hallway to her studio. The room was large with tiled floors. Sunlight streamed through the windows and a set of French doors that led to a deck in the back. The ocean view was breathtaking.
“This studio has everything you need,” he said.
“Von went a little crazy, but he was happy to have me home.”
Josh could only imagine her brother’s relief. “My sister likes me being in Berry Lake. My brother is happy I’m closer to him, too.”
A coat rack held two pairs of stained coveralls.
He walked toward a built-in unit of cabinets, countertop, and shelving along the side wall. A steel laundry sink was empty. Magnets painted with pretty beach scenes, including a few of the gazebo he’d seen when he arrived, and the words Indigo Bay written in cursive at the bottom covered the counter.
Everything seemed to have its place. He was more of a find-a-place-where-it-fits kind of guy. “Is your studio always this clean?”
“I wish.” She laughed—the melodic sound filled an empty place inside Josh. “This is much cleaner than I usually leave it.”
“So you’re not a neat freak?”
She laughed. “Not even close. I try not to let the mess get out of control, but often my hands and clothes have as much paint on them as what I’m working on.”
“Occupational hazard.”
Nodding, she opened a closet door. “The painting can go in here.”
Josh set the box inside, and then he looked around the studio. A few sketches of the beach hung on a corkboard. A large box on the floor contained tin buckets wrapped in cellophane and tied with white and purple ribbons.
No paintings or blank canvases anywhere. This was set up more like his mom’s craft room than a studio, except for an empty easel in the far corner next to folded drop cloths.
Hope seemed to have accepted whatever was keeping her from painting and moved on. He wished he’d been able to do that after his injury.
“This is a great space,” he said.
Her lips curved into a satisfied smile. “It used to be a third bedroom.”
Josh made his way over to the French doors, whistling under his breath. “The views are incredible.”
“It’s one of my favorite things about this house.” She stared at the water. “In the morning, I sit on the deck and have a cup of coffee. It’s the perfect start to my day.”
“Mind if I go outside?”
“Please do.” She followed him out the doors and onto the deck.
He placed his hands on the railing, taking a deep breath. “I might be able to get used to the heat and humidity with a deck like this.”
Hope stood next to him. Even though hours had passed, she still smelled like strawberries. “Having a breeze like today helps.”
The wind tousled the ends of her hair, blowing strands across her face. Josh reached to brush them aside for her. “Now you can see better.”
Her lips parted as if surprised, but she didn’t back away from him. “Thanks.”
Josh couldn’t stop staring at those lips. He wanted a taste. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”
A slight nod was the only invitation he needed.
Lowering his head, he pressed his lips against hers. Gently. Tentatively.
His lips moved over hers, testing and tasting.
He hadn’t kissed anyone in months, but he didn’t remember anything ever feeling so right the first time. As if he’d found what he hadn’t known was missing.
He increased the pressure against her mouth. As she leaned against him, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened. She clung to him.
The warmth turned into heat.
Need built, and his control slipped.
Stop.
But he didn’t want to.
He needed this. Needed her. Needed more…