Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 104820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
She walked up beside him and said, “Interested in buying that?”
Still staring at the painting, he said, “No.” He shook his head. “God, no. I couldn’t have that in the house.”
Then, as though realizing he’d been insulting, he turned to her, looking stricken. He had blue-gray eyes that reminded her of the ocean during a storm. “You’re a very talented painter, but it’s not for me.”
She wasn’t sure whether he meant to be rude or whether he had zero social skills, but she felt a little snarky. “Lots of men would be pretty happy to have this painting on their living room wall. I didn’t paint it, but I am the woman in it.”
He did a double take—at the picture, at her. “That’s you?”
He seemed to fumble for words, and she didn’t help him out, just stood there waiting.
Finally, he said, “It’s not that I don’t want you on the wall. I mean, obviously, you’re very beautiful. Even more stunning in person.” He turned back to the painting and shook his head. “It’s just… that wave looks like it’s trying to gobble you up.”
When he turned back and said, “You see?” she recognized real pain in his eyes.
Then it hit her—had the angry waves in the painting taken him back to his near-death experience? Was that why he couldn’t have it in the house, yet couldn’t tear himself away from it?
“Have you ever surfed?” she asked, feeling kinder toward him now that she suspected the source of his pain.
He shuddered. “No.”
She had an instinctive feeling that he had developed a fear of the ocean, but didn’t want to embarrass him by asking. She wasn’t a therapist, just someone who’d learned to get back into the water after she nearly died out there too.
Maybe she could help him, though. At least she could offer. “I teach surfing to beginners on Saturdays, if you ever want to drop in.”
“Oh, I—I don’t think… I mean, I never thought of surfing as a sport. I do a lot of running. And cycling.”
His body was strong and athletic, so she wasn’t surprised that he was into sports. She also thought he was very cute in a nerdy way. She could imagine a quick fling if he was on holiday here. She’d been without a man for too long, and a guy on holiday wouldn’t try to tie her down, which suited her fine.
“Are you staying in the area?” Yes, he could definitely be fun in the short term. She had a feeling there might be a hot fire burning beneath those awkward social skills.
“Actually, I’m thinking about buying a house here.”
“Really?” Short-term affairs were one thing, but business was another. She gave him her most winning smile and pulled out one of her business cards. “If you’re not already working with a Realtor, I’d love to help you find the perfect home. Will you be moving with your family?” She’d assumed he was single, but maybe he had a wife and five kids to relocate to Carmel. She should have asked Erin more about him when she’d had the chance.
“No. It’s just me.”
“Perfect,” she said, then realizing how that sounded, added, “It’s easier to choose a home when you don’t have to consider other people’s opinions.” She held out her hand. “I’m Mila Davenport.”
“Hersch,” he said. “Hersch Greenfield.”
“Nice to meet you, Hersch. Call me if I can help.”
Carefully, he tucked her card into his wallet. “I will.”
She checked the high-end waterproof watch that never left her wrist. Time was important to Mila. She wanted to cram every second she could into a life full of activity and fun and laughter.
Time was also money, however, and she should get back to the office.
But first she wanted to say good-bye to Tessa and wish her well—not that she needed it. There were already a number of SOLD stickers on her paintings. She was clearly destined for success.
An older man beamed as Tessa put one of the stickers on a seascape. “My wife will be so thrilled. It’s for our anniversary,” he said, and then, after a last glance at his purchase, he moved on.
Before Mila could reach Tessa, Arch said something to his fiancée, then leaned in for a kiss.
Mila felt herself go mushy inside. Her brother and Tessa were so deeply in love. She thought it was beautiful, of course. But she also wondered how they managed it.
Beside her, a familiar voice said, “Aren’t they sweet? The first of my children to get married. I’m so thrilled.”
Mila said, “Don’t look at me as the next one in line, Mom. I mean, it’s fantastic for Arch and Tessa, and I bet you’ll be knitting baby booties within the year. But you know I’m all about my career.”
Betsy Davenport simply responded with that knowing Mom smile and said, “Your turn will come, honey.” She glanced to where Herschel Greenfield was now studying a sculpture of a mermaid. “That man seemed quite taken with you.”