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The next day, which was day two of their six, was even better than Carly could have ever imagined. Mick had again picked her up from the Strawberry Fare cafe and took her to the White Willow B&B where he’d been staying.
When they got to the B&B, Mick led her to the indoor garden, which was as peaceful as one might imagine it to be. Carly gasped when she saw it. While she’d been into the B&B before, she’d never seen the inside of the greenhouse. The B&B owners, Amy and Sam, had done a wonderful job with the place. The high ceilings and glass-framed walls of the greenhouse allowed the light to pass through freely. On one side of the room was a small pond in which healthy goldfish swam in and amongst plants of varying shades of green.
Mick took Carly’s hand and led her to a table laden with an intricate three-tiered tea tray, filled with dainty sandwiches, scones and jam, and dessert slices.
Carly looked up at Mick and held his gaze. “Did you do all this?”
“With a bit of help from Amy and Sam.”
“You did all this,”—Carly motioned to everything around her—“for me?” She couldn’t believe the trouble Mick had gone to. No one had ever done anything like this for her.
Mick walked up to Carly and took her in his arms. “I’ve never been more myself than I am with you, Carly. I want you to know how much you mean to me.”
With her heart soaring, Carly held his gaze.
Mick leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.
Carly closed her eyes and let herself go in the moment. Without care or worry, she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair. The touch of Mick’s skin on hers sent shivers up and down her spine. All she wanted was to remain in that moment forever. Mick was like no one she’d ever known. At that moment, he was all that she wanted and needed.
As they sat down to enjoy the high tea spread, Carly asked Mick a question that’d been on her mind. “How is it that you get to stay here? I mean, in Willow Oaks. What about your work?”
Mick popped a tiny sandwich in his mouth and chewed it quickly. “I can look after things from here. As long as I’ve got my laptop and phone, I can pretty much do my work from anywhere.”
Carly chewed thoughtfully on a cucumber sandwich. It was the first cucumber sandwich she’d ever had. It wasn’t something that she’d order off a menu, but she actually quite enjoyed the clean, crisp taste. “What is it you do, anyway? I’ve heard people say that you’re some property mogul now.”
“Firstly, I would never call myself a mogul. Sounds like I’m in the mafia or something.” Mick laughed. “I’m a property developer. I basically purchase land and develop it to either sell or invest in.”
“Is that something you learned from that family you stayed with?”
“I guess you could say that. I learned a lot about property when I worked with Jeremiah.”
Carly took a sip of her tea. “Are you still in touch with them?”
“Absolutely. They’re like my family.”
Carly wondered what Mick’s real family might say if they ever heard him say that. She knew that Mick’s mother was heartbroken when her oldest son left home. But as with everything, over the years, many versions of the story had been told.
“I’ve got another surprise for you,” Mick said when they had finished eating.
“There’s more?” Carly wiped her mouth with a white linen napkin and put it next to her plate. There was no way she could hide her smile.
Mick took her hand and led her to the back of the greenhouse where there stood two easels, each with a canvas propped up against it.
“Mick...” Carly’s voice faded to a whisper. She turned to look at him and found him watching her. “How did you...?”
“Take a pick—I thought you and I could spend the afternoon painting.”
Carly grinned widely. “What should we paint?”
“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” Mick laughed. “How about I try to paint you... and you can paint me?”
* * *
THEY’D SPENT THE REST of the day painting each other, sneaking kisses in between. Mick couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so carefree. It was as if he’d walked out of a long, dark tunnel for the first time.
That night, they’d exchanged paintings. Carly’s was a handsome rendition of Mick. She had laughed sweetly when Mick showed her his painting of her.
“Is this supposed to be me?” Carly asked.
He was by no means an artistic person, much less a painter. But he’d put all his heart into the canvas, as he tried to capture the essence that was Carly—beauty, truth, and light. “You’re not going to tuck it away in the garage or something, are you?”
“I love it,” Carly said, as she tip-toed to give him a kiss. “I’m going to hang it up in my bedroom.”
“I hope it doesn’t give you nightmares,” Mick said of the abstract painting. “Think of it as a Picasso.
“It was painted with love. And with that will come good dreams.”
“You bring me good dreams.” Mick took the canvas from Carly and set it down gently on the table. He pulled her close and gazed into her honey-brown eyes. “What have I ever done to deserve someone like you?” As cliché as it sounded, he meant it. Carly was everything he had ever hoped for in a woman. He didn’t want to waste any more time. He wanted her to know exactly how he felt about her.
“Must’ve done something good then,” Carly chided.
“So it seems.” Mick bent his head down and kissed her gently on the lips, savoring the sweet taste of her cherry lip balm.
Carly tilted her head back, allowing Mick to reach the hidden part of her neck, just behind her ears. And when Carly sighed, he closed his eyes.
As twisted as it seemed, the scent of Carly’s neck, as he nuzzled her, made his heart clench so much that it hurt. This. This was where he wanted to be.