Love on Lavender Island (A Lavender Island Novel Book 2) (9 page)

“
Ma’am?
Ma’am? Are you okay?” It was two of the younger guys, staring down into her face.

“I’ll be fine once you all stop calling me ‘ma’am.’” It was one thing when you could adopt a Rita Hayworth stance, but another altogether when you were spread-eagle in the grass.

Adam’s face joined the others to stare down at her, too—but his held a note of amusement. He extended his hand to help her. “Enjoying the view?”

She let him lift her, brushed off her elbows and her pride, and tried to stand tall.

“I’m fine.” It was all she could do to keep from batting him away. She had embarrassing falls and stumbles constantly—she was quite used to awkward adventures—but she didn’t usually do them with an all-male audience who treated her like a senior citizen.

“I’m fine—I’m fine,” she said as Gordon reached for her elbow. She hustled out of their view as quickly as she could. But halfway around the corner, her gait turned into a limp.

She dragged herself up the porch steps and tried the door.
But . . . damn.
Had she locked herself out?

Her forehead dropped to the wooden doorway.

“Need help?” she heard over her shoulder.

Adam.
She didn’t lift her head. Now he’d seen her with her butt in a window, a splinter in her foot, falling out a window, spread-eagle in the grass, and locked out of her own house. She might as well have a sign over her head:
P
AIGE
G
RANT
: A
WKWARD SINCE
1987
.

“I think I’m all right.”

“You look like you’re locked out.”

She sighed. She might as well face the fact that she was never going to be able to hide her gracelessness from him. She was never going to look like Faye Dunaway or Anne Bancroft to Adam Mason.

“I think I left the side door open.”

She heard his heavy boots come up the steps and a set of keys clink. Then his arm was reaching around her. In seconds he had the key in.

“I’ll give you these extra keys now,” he said over her shoulder. “I only had them when Helen needed me to check on things. Unless, of course . . .”

The door fell open, and Paige stepped inside. “Unless what?” She glanced back.

“Unless you have these situations often.” He was definitely trying not to smile.

She limped into the kitchen. It was hopeless. He’d never taken her seriously back then, and he wouldn’t take her seriously now. She wanted to talk to him about letting her use the meadow regardless of the sale, but now didn’t seem to be the time. Right after she’d been sprawled in the grass and all.

She poked at a few keys on her laptop.

“Are you going to be okay?” He pushed the keys toward her across the dining table.

“I’m fine,” she snapped.

“Your hip, I mean, are you sure you—”

“I’m
fine
.”

He lifted his hands in a surrender position and backed toward the doorway. “Just making sure.”

“No need.”

He frowned at the fruit cups sitting on the counter. “Is that all you’re eating?”

She really couldn’t handle any more of his observations regarding her sad life. “Don’t you have to be going now?”

He blinked back at her. “Sure.”

She followed him to the door and watched him head down the steps.

“Thank you for the generator,” she mumbled.

He lifted a hand and kept walking.

Paige watched him saunter away with his languid, sexy stride and wondered how she’d ever turn this ship around.

First step: stop acting like a goofball.

Second step: let him see her being capable.

She knew she
was
—capable, that was. In her normal life, away from the island, she felt efficient in many things. But for some reason, whenever she was here on Lavender Island, she launched back into old behaviors. And coming face-to-face with the boy who’d laughed at her attempts to be cool in her developmental years didn’t help. Not that he appeared to remember. But it was still hard. She simply didn’t seem to know how to be competent in front of him.

But a lot more was riding on this now than pride—she had business reasons to impress him. Not to mention her mom counting on her. And Dorothy Silver. And getting that part. And then, of course, her dream of the yoga studio.

She was just going to have to pull herself together once and for all.

She’d be a different person around Adam Mason.

Starting right now.

CHAPTER 9

For the next couple of days, Paige woke every morning, yanked open her hotel-room drapes, did her pranayama practice and asanas in the best patch of sun she could find, then drove across the meadow to do more work on Gram’s house.

By day three, she’d managed to get all the downstairs windows clean. The floors were mopped, the cabinets were wiped, and at least seven repairs had been started. Paige had even started searching for gazebos online. She found an enormous one—it was perfect—and sought out a private shipping company to bring it over when it was time. Now she just had to talk Adam into lending her the land to build it on.

By the end of the third day, Paige stood back, hands on her hips, to admire her work. She could almost see now how beautiful this place would be again, once it had its full face-lift and was filled with cozy furniture. Click seemed to approve, as well, as the kitten leaped up onto one of the newly cleaned sills to check out the views.

Paige was exhausted, though. And she knew she should probably talk to Adam, but she didn’t know if she had the energy to look like the new pulled-together woman she needed to project. She also wanted to return the empty propane tank for the generator, but she didn’t want to show up looking this spent. Maybe she’d just slip it onto his porch, hope not to see him, and go back to the room to shower and relax. Then she’d get her act together and talk to him.

She dragged her things onto the flatbed part of the golf cart and headed back across the meadow. The sky was turning a dusky blue, the dandelions blowing gently in the evening air. She’d come to love these bookend times of day—the hour the sun rose over the meadow, then the hour the sun decided to set, making its hesitant decision to disappear. She loved the feeling that the sky was holding on to something wonderful—only to give in, and then slip into sunsets that became even more vibrant and beautiful.

Her wheels bumped around the edge of the resort. It had been nice having a few days off from Adam—and the tiring work of trying to be someone more sophisticated, or at least tamping down her hormones. After making such a fool of herself, then being plagued with memories of his flexing biceps as he hauled that generator around, not to mention his seriousness and intensity that she knew must be amazing in bed, she’d had a terrible time getting him off her mind. It was exhausting.

At his back porch, Paige hopped out of the cart and pulled the propane tank onto the top step, pushing her hair out of her eyes and wiping away the line of perspiration trickling its way down her cleavage. As she turned to make her quick escape, she caught a glimpse of him walking through the field.

Damn.

His sleeves were rolled up, his shirt disheveled, giving credence to the long, hard day they’d apparently both had. The falling amber light caught the lines along his face, giving his eyes an otherworldly air as he kept them focused on her. He took the porch steps two at a time.

In the twilight, his eyes had softened to the exact color of the sky behind him. All this time, Paige had thought they were the color of a coming storm, but, in fact, they could also look like twilight, if you looked at them the right way. And if you liked him. And if you saw him with that June night sky right over his shoulder.

He leaned into the opposite porch rail, waiting for her to say something.

“Thank you again for the generator,” she said. “It’s been a great help.”

“I see you’re returning the tank—do you need a fill-up?”

“I can handle it from here—I’ll get my own tank in town.”

“It’s no problem. I’m going to town tomorrow.”

“I’ll do it myself.”

He studied her for a long moment. “Suit yourself.”

She watched him wander toward a bench and admired the languid way he moved. He took a seat to take off his boots. On one side of the bench was a wicker basket filled with firewood, and on the other, a basket brimming with pinecones. Paige had never thought of the Mason residence as particularly homey before, but with Adam manning the helm now, there was kind of a warm look to the place. Denny came out of the dog door and sat beside Adam to complete the setting.

“There’s a gathering tonight at Rosa’s Cantina,” Adam said, interrupting her fantasies of living in an L.L.Bean ad with him. “Antonio and Tanya the bartender are getting engaged. You’re welcome to come.”

“Oh wow. Antonio the super?” Paige was instantly happy for him.

“Yes. Big night. The food will be good. You can come and help yourself. I’m sure no one will mind.”

His eyes were so intense. His forearms were so sexy. “No thanks,” Paige blurted.

As soon as the words left her mouth, she questioned their wisdom. She
was
starving. And it might be fun to socialize.

She’d figured out that Rosa’s Cantina was part of an almost secret town up here. Or not a town, exactly, but a street. A dirt road, really. But it had Rosa’s restaurant, the bar, a gas station, a tiny market behind the gas station with a few basics like milk and eggs, and about two dozen small homes—the residents of which all seemed to keep the Mason ranch running, along with the resort and the airport. As a kid, she’d never noticed the dirt road back there, being about a hundred acres away. And as an adult, when she would visit, she never came anywhere near this mountain. She wouldn’t mind checking it out now.

Yet with Adam looking this good, and her known weakness for him, and her new plan to act like a sophisticate, she wondered if seeing him in a party atmosphere might be dangerous. Throw in a couple of drinks and another few gazes into those intense eyes, and she might end up in his lap.

“What are you going to do for dinner, then?” he asked.

“I’ll find something. I’m just exhausted.”

“You don’t seem to eat much.” He set both boots at the end of the bench. “Why is that?”

She shrugged. She didn’t feel like defending her choices to him. “Women don’t eat as much as men.”

“Says who?”

“Says Dirk.” She practically threw her hand over her mouth. How had that slipped out?

He lifted his head. “Who’s Dirk?”

“He’s nobody.”

“Well, he must be somebody if you’re listening to his advice.”

She sighed. “My agent.”

His frown created lines between his eyes. “What do you have an agent for?”

“I’m an actress.”

She could have sworn a slant of doubt moved across his face, but he seemed to dismiss the comment and went back to tending his boots.

“Well, it has been a long day,” he said, “and I can understand that you’re exhausted, but you need to eat. If you don’t want to go to Rosa’s tonight, I could order you something and have it sent to your room again.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Did you like the enchiladas?” he asked, ignoring her protest, looking as if he just wanted to get down to business.

“A salad would be good.”

“You’ve got to eat more than salad. You’re working hard out there.”

She felt herself blush. Working hard, she had the impression, was something Adam admired. “I did like the enchiladas a lot,” she mumbled.

“I know just the thing.” He pulled a cleaner pair of boots from under the bench, and his thigh muscles tightened underneath his jeans as he tugged them on. “Are we done here, then?”

The switch from the kind gesture to the brusque dismissal confused and annoyed her, so she simply nodded.

He stood and moved toward the screen door. “You can come through here. It’s getting dark.”

“I’ll go around. I’m a mess.”

Adam watched her hand sweep across her body, but his gaze lingered somewhere around her hips, then seemed to stall at her breasts before he finally made it to her face. Once he met her eyes, he held them.

“Dirk’s an idiot,” he said quietly.

Her heart pounded. Having Adam’s gaze drag up her body like a fingertip was more thrilling and unexpected than she could handle right now. She turned on her heel and scurried back to her cart, fumbling with the ignition key while he and Denny stared after her.

Finally, the thing lurched forward, and she tried to gun it across the grass back to her room.

She’d have to weather this one.

A storm might be brewing, for sure.

Adam let Denny into the house and shrugged out of his jacket. He was wiped. Between pounding fence posts up by the corral, shoveling sawdust, checking on bison, cleaning horses, pumping fuel for Brunner’s plane, fixing a broken stair post in the barn, and helping Paige with Helen’s property, he was sore from the cords of his neck to the ligaments of his arches. He wasn’t in the mood to go to Antonio and Tanya’s party tonight.

But damn, talking to Paige had perked up all kinds of body parts.

She looked worn-out but still incredibly sexy—her honey hair escaping along the nape of her neck, her blouse open at the collar just enough to reveal a sheen of sweat across her chest. It was enough to nearly undo him right now.

As soon as he’d invited her to the gathering, he’d questioned his sanity. Having her there and spending time with her after he’d had a few drinks probably wasn’t a good idea. His thoughts were getting not only more and more lascivious but strangely protective, too. He wasn’t sure what he’d do or say. His instincts ran from wanting to make sure she ate to wanting to pummel that idiot Dirk for making her feel she shouldn’t. He wanted to take care of her. He wanted to take her exhaustion away. He wanted to unlock doors for her and save her from intruders and be some kind of hero to her . . .

He pulled out his phone and started scrolling for Rosa’s number.

“Amanda?” he called into the other room.

Amanda came shuffling around the corner in her fluffy boots and slithered into a dining chair, staring up at him. She was so obedient. But he sort of wished she’d argue. Or not come. Or be belligerent. Or at least
talk
.

He put his phone away. “How was your day?” he tried. It was always his sorry start.

“Fine.” It was always her dismissive end.

He had no idea if this ghostlike wordlessness had always been part of her personality or if it had started when her mother died, but either way it seemed sad. He wanted to fix it. He felt it was his job. And yet he didn’t know how. And he didn’t know how to ask. Talking things out was not one of his fortes in general, and talking things out with a fifteen-year-old girl was way out of his wheelhouse.

“Did you do anything fun today?” he asked.

“No.”

He scratched Denny behind the ears and studied Amanda. With the setting June sun coming in through the window, hitting her face like that, he was suddenly struck by how much she looked like his mom. He turned to get his bearings, putting a few coffee mugs into the sink.

“I wanted to ask you about dinner,” he said. “I’m going to Antonio and Tanya’s engagement party tonight, but it’s adults only, so I can order you something ahead of time. Or I can make you something. Mama Mendez can’t make it tonight.”

Antonio’s mom, Teresa Mendez, was their full-time cook in the evenings, but her mother had fallen sick in Mexico, and she’d left for a month to take care of her.

“I’m not hungry,” Amanda said.

Adam blew out an exasperated breath. Was this a girl thing? It was one of the nine hundred or so things about women that he’d never understand.

“You must be hungry,” he said. “It’s eight thirty and you probably haven’t eaten all day.”

“I’ll make something later. There’s sandwich stuff.”

“What sandwich stuff?”

“I’ll find something.”

“Let me order you something.”

“Okay. I’ll do the enchiladas, I guess. Can I be excused?”

He sighed. He had no reason to say no. He could beg her to stay, beg her to talk, beg her to eat a snack, or eat with him, but she’d only do it with that sullen look of hers, staring at him through that thick makeup while moving food around on her plate. He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

He heard the chair legs scrape and then the shuffle of her slippers as she headed back to her room. Where she’d stayed for hours. Days. Weeks. But then suddenly she stopped and turned toward him.

“Can I go down to the harbor?” She tilted her head and threw her hand on her hip.

He wiped his brow with the back of his hand.
Damn.
She really did look like his mom. And she hardly ever asked for anything. Now that she had, it was something he couldn’t give her. At least not right now. His heart felt heavy in his chest.

“It’s kind of late now, and I have to go to the party. How about tomorrow? I can take you then.”

“I can find my way.”

“You don’t drive.”

“I’ll take a cart.”

“The hill’s too dangerous in a cart. Especially at night.”

“Paige does it.”

He blinked back his surprise. He hadn’t expected to hear Paige’s name spoken by Amanda, and it felt like worlds colliding. Without thinking, he glanced toward the porch, where he’d last seen his little role model.

“Well, Paige is a grown woman, and she can do what she wants,” he said. “You’re fifteen. And you can’t. I’ll take you tomorrow.”

“I’m almost sixteen!” Amanda gave him a good, old-fashioned eye-roll and huffed through a dramatic pivot. Then she stomped away, back to her room, where she slammed the door.