Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Eloise readjusted the straps of her bag and continued on her way. The last thing she needed was to lose focus. She was in Seaport for two things—her art and helping her aunt. The Endless Summer Showcase was important not only to her, but to her aunt, as well as the whole town. People from all over would attend. Important people. People who could buy her art or commission a piece from her or offer her a spot in a coveted art program. Maybe all three if she were lucky. The showcase was life changing for most artists, and she was lucky her aunt wanted her work for the event. Having one piece on display would open doors for Eloise.
After stowing her bag in the small trunk of the moped she borrowed from her aunt, Eloise set the painting on the foot platform and secured her helmet before starting the little motorbike. This was how she'd get around the island this summer. She didn't mind. Most people used mopeds in town because parking was expensive and often scarce. Especially where Margaux lived. There were many perks to living by the beach. But as with anything, perks came with drawbacks—traffic being the main one.
Like now, cars and trucks lined the two-lane street, idling and inching forward while the cluster up ahead merged into one lane. Eloise drove into the bike lane. Doing so was against the law, but the local police didn't care, and if they did, they never said anything.
Eloise pulled into the driveway, pushed the kickstand down, and then shut the moped off. She removed her helmet, propped her canvas against the tire, and then gathered her things and went right to her small apartment and up to the second floor, where she would finish her painting. She only had a few details to fill in, and those she had memorized. She had always captured the majestic beauty of the sunset.
As soon as the sun touched the horizon, Eloise remembered why she had always longed to return to Seaport—the sunsets. Sure, in the other places she had lived or visited, they had amazing sunsets, but there was something about the way the sky always turned different hues of pink and red with a mix of blue and yellow.
Eloise sat on the stool and held her paintbrush in her hand. Her thoughts drifted to the man . . . Kiel. Images of him flashed before her. She had spotted him on the beach and knew right away he was a tourist. She had to give him credit. He tried to blend in but having lived in vacation destinations her entire life, tourists had an air about them. It was either the way they looked around at others, how they dropped their stuff and headed right to the water, or how they stood there and soaked everything in. In Kiel’s case, it was the way he tested the water before diving in. Yet, she still asked because she needed to verify her own curiosity.
And then he was there, standing on the boardwalk. It was clear to her he wanted to talk to her but he waited until she finished speaking to one of her high school teachers. Except, Kiel lingered, and she had no choice but to start packing up in hopes he’d come talk to her. It was a dirty and unfortunate trick, but it worked.
He asked her right away what she had painted, and she happily showed him. It wasn't the first time someone had come up to her to see what was on her canvas. Most people were curious and wanted to see what she was doing. Kiel was different. He complimented her work and was more concerned about the fact she hadn't finished the painting. Eloise could've easily stayed, but he would’ve kept her distracted with his smile and the way the right corner of his mouth lifted a bit higher than the left. Or how his voice was a smooth timber sending shivers down her spine. Eloise was thankful for the outside temperature because no one needed to think she was cold when she wasn’t. His presence flushed her, in every good way possible. The curly blonde haired, blue eyed stranger named Kiel was indeed a distraction she didn’t need.
The paint brush moved rapidly across the canvas, as if it had a mind of its own. Eloise shook her head to clear her thoughts and saw she had begun adding him to her painting.
“Shit,” she muttered as she stared at the object on her canvas. No one but her would know the figure on her painting, the one standing on the beach with his towel around his shoulders and his hands in his pockets was Kiel. It was unlikely he'd ever know either, so she finished what she had subconsciously started.