Baird stood in the shower and turned the water off, stepping out to snag a towel from the rack. He brushed the towel over his body and examined himself in the mirror. Oh yeah, he was going to have a few bruises. Not to mention the cut on his head ached like a wasp's sting. At least it had stopped bleeding.
Baird wrapped the towel around his waist and walked into the kitchen, swiping a Guinness from the fridge along the way. He dropped onto the couch and pulled his iPad onto his lap.
He wasn't yet done with Aislinn, but he wasn't entirely sure of her either. His body wanted her…God, she was every fantasy he'd ever had come to life. Even his heart was ready to dive in headfirst. But Baird had long ago learned that you couldn't always trust the body or the heart's impulses. He'd seen it enough in his practice. He was going to tread carefully with Aislinn. His mind was the last holdout and Baird had about 1.2 billion questions for her.
For now, he knew his starting point. Pulling up Google, he began to research what would cause the cove to glow from within.
Chapter 17
Several days later, Aislinn paced the shop and examined her list of inventory. She either needed to raise prices or create more products. It seemed like her work was flying off the shelves lately and her shop was beginning to look a little sparse. Unable to help herself, Aislinn peered out the front window, where she could just make out Baird's building. Cursing herself, she turned and walked away from the window.
Not a word. The man had kissed her senseless, told her that he couldn't stop thinking about her and then had just walked away. Aislinn had fully expected to hear from him after he had had a little time to process what had happened at the cove. When she hadn't, hurt had turned to anger. Anger had then turned to berating herself. Why was she mooning after a guy that she knew wasn't a good match for her? Frustrated with the contradiction of her heart and her mind, Aislinn paced the store.
“Hi, Aislinn,” Morgan called from the back room.
“Hey, Morgan,” Aislinn said, thankful for the distraction. Morgan had come to the shop twice to get the lay of the land and in doing so, was slowly opening up to Aislinn. Aislinn felt like she could fully trust her and the girl's exuberance was hard to resist.
“What's on the schedule for today?'
“Well, as you can see, stock is getting low.” Aislinn swept her arm around the room.
“Yes, I noticed that. I have some ideas about rearranging it to make it look less sparse if you don't mind,” Morgan offered shyly.
Aislinn thought about it. Did she mind? “Please, go ahead. In fact, I think that I am going to take the day off and go take pictures,” Aislinn decided on the spot. Morgan's mouth dropped open.
“You're…just going to leave me here?”
“Yup. You know how to work the credit card machine and you have my cell number. I doubt anything too major will come up,” Aislinn said.
“Wow, thanks, Aislinn, I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. Now, as much as I want to get more painting done, I think that I will focus on restocking the photographs. They are easier to finish up and they sell well. Plus, the mini postcards that I make out of them fly off the shelves,” Aislinn decided.
“I love your photographs. You have such a unique way of portraying things,” Morgan said.
“Thank you, Morgan. Flattery will get you everywhere,” Aislinn laughed at her and was delighted to hear the girl's rich, pure laugh ring back.
“I'm off. Call me if you need anything,” Aislinn said, swinging her trusty Leica camera over her neck and grabbing her bag of film.
Aislinn stepped onto the street and automatically glanced to the sky to check the light. Wispy clouds filtered the light of the sun. Perfect, Aislinn thought, and began to walk around the village. Though nature shots always sold well, Aislinn found that the tourists loved pictures of anything quintessentially Irish. She strolled through the village and bent to shoot the image of a potter working in his studio through an open window. On another pass through she caught two old men laughing on the sidewalk in front of the pub. Aislinn zoomed in on their faces and captured the wrinkles at the corners of their eyes as they laughed. Continuing up the street she found an old truck with a dog peering out of the window. Aislinn took several shots of the dog…wide angle and up close.
Humming to herself, she continued around the village down towards the harbor. Aislinn reached in her bag and pulled out her long-distance lens. From the top of the hill, a wide-angle picture of the harbor was typically stunning. Aislinn held the camera to her face and looked through the view finder. Movement caught her eye and she turned the camera slightly to find it and zoomed in. Her mouth dropped open and without thinking, she began to shoot.
Baird ran on the harbor boardwalk, shirt off, and without his glasses. Sweat dripped from him and his muscles gleamed in the sun. Aislinn swallowed against her suddenly dry throat and angled in on the curve of his pectoral muscles. Lust hummed through her body as she continued to shoot his run. Baird stopped at an empty bench and dropped to do triceps dips. Aislinn all but tripped over herself as she focused on the curve of his bicep and the dip of his stomach muscles beneath the waistband of his shorts.
As if sensing he was being watched, Baird looked directly at her. Aislinn let out a little squeal and swung the camera wide, taking random shots of Flynn's restaurant. Trying to act cool, she took a few more shots and turned the camera and her body in a direction that didn't face Baird. What had she been thinking? Aislinn scolded herself as she walked behind the grocer and let out a sigh.
Silly, smitten girl, Aislinn reprimanded herself. And why was she even lusting after this man? It wasn't like he wanted to try and understand her or even make an effort to be with her.
Giving herself a mental lecture to toughen up, Aislinn shoved Baird from her mind and switched out her roll of film. She spent the next few hours walking the outskirts of the village, capturing everything from laughing nuns coming out of an old church to a solitary sheep standing on a rock. Satisfied that she'd have enough to print and frame to replenish her supply, Aislinn made her way back to the shop.
Breezing in the front door she stopped dead in her tracks.
Her shop.
What had happened to her shop?
“Do you like it?” Morgan asked nervously from the corner. Aislinn jolted. She had entirely missed the girl.
“I…I'm speechless.”
“Is that bad? I can change it back,” Morgan said nervously, biting at her nails.
“Are you kidding me? Don't touch a thing. This is amazing!” Aislinn squealed and ran over to give Morgan a hug. She ignored the hesitation and tension she felt in the girl's shoulders when she wrapped an arm around her. From what she could ascertain, Morgan wasn't used to being touched or comfortable with affection.
“How did you do all of this?” Aislinn exclaimed.
Morgan's face flushed.
“Oh, duh. Of course, your power. Nice work,” Aislinn said casually and strolled around the room. Morgan had completely rearranged the shop. Instead of an eclectic mix of paintings and photographs shoved anywhere they would fit, there was a flow and…it made sense.
“This makes sense,” Aislinn said, voicing her thoughts.
“Yes, that's what I thought,” Morgan said eagerly. “I decided to group your work by your different mediums, and then by sizes and prices.”
“That way if someone knows they only like watercolors…” Aislinn said.
“They'll go right to the watercolor section.” Morgan finished.
“This works. The flow is better too,” Aislinn said. The racks had been repositioned so that people wouldn't get bunched up by the door but instead could peruse each section easily without feeling too crowded.
“That's what I thought. I didn't want people to feel too squished and uncomfortable.”
“I'm really happy with this, you've done a great job,” Aislinn said.
“Did you get some good pictures today?” Morgan asked and Aislinn fel
t her cheeks heat.
“Um, yes, I did,” Aislinn said, thinking of the pictures of Baird.
“Oh! You got a phone call from a gallery in Dublin. Something about setting up a show? I wrote it down.”
Aislinn let out a screech and grabbed Morgan in another quick hug before doing a quick jig across the room and back.
“Good news, I'm guessing?” Morgan laughed at her.
“The best. My first real show! At a Dublin gallery, no less!”
“Congratulations.”
“Morgan, how many days are you on Flynn's boat?”
“Whenever he needs me. It's flexible.”
“Can you work more hours here over the next few weeks? I need to focus.”
Morgan's mouth dropped open.
“I'd love to. Do you really trust me to do that?”
Aislinn swept her arm across the shop. “After all this? Of course I do.”
A look of pure delight swept across the girl's face, and her aura shifted colors ever so slightly. Aislinn was certain that with a little love and patience, she'd be able to push the rest of the anger and loneliness from Morgan's life.
“I'll talk to Flynn tomorrow,” Morgan said excitedly.
“I have to call him back.” Aislinn rushed to her office.
“I'm going to leave for the day, then,” Morgan called to her.
“Thanks, Morgan. See you tomorrow?”
“Yes, after I talk to Flynn,” Morgan called.
Aislinn's heart was pounding so hard in her chest that she could barely hear Morgan's reply. She sat down at her desk and stared at the hastily scrawled message. She hadn't known that she had wanted to have a gallery acknowledge her work as an artist until it had happened. Aislinn had always taken great pride in selling her work on her own terms and had never craved the accolades that many of her art colleagues did. In fact, Aislinn had all but shunned that world. After art school she had simply followed her heart and been the driver of her own success. She'd seen several of her old classmates suffer rounds of rejections from galleries and she had promised herself that she would never fall into that group.
But, now this opportunity had come to her. Aislinn took a few deep breaths to steady her breathing before dialing the number on the pad.
“Green on Red Gallery, how may I help you?”
“May I speak with Martin, please?”
“One moment please,” the smooth voice on the other end replied.
Aislinn doodled nervously while she waited for Martin to come to the phone.
“Yes, this is Martin.” A low voice reached to her through the phone.
“Ah, yes, this is Aislinn from Wild Soul Gallery in Grace's Cove?”
“Yes, Aislinn! Thank you so much for returning my call.”
“Of course, the pleasure is all mine,” Aislinn gushed.
“Well, I've had the delight of meeting your mother and she has sent me pictures of your work. I'm in love! We must have you for a show. What works for you?”
Martin took for granted that she would want to show at their gallery and Aislinn wasn't surprised. Green on Red Gallery was well known across Ireland.
“Um, I would need a little time to prepare,” Aislinn stammered.
“Of course, of course. How does four weeks from now sound? I know it is a little short for planning a show, but we have a hole in our calendar, and frankly, from what I've seen in the photographs, you already have enough to show. We'd love to focus on your oil or watercolor paintings of the coast. We haven't done any moody Irish seascapes yet as usually they are so boring and typical. Yours just jump right off the page for me and I'm certain they'll sell like hotcakes,” Martin said excitedly.
“Four weeks? Okay, I can do that,” Aislinn said determinedly. “How many pieces would you like?”
“Hmmm, I'll try not to be greedy but say…between twenty-five and forty? Depending on their size?”
Aislinn gulped.
“Yes, sir. I can do that.”
“Excellent. Give me your email address and I'll send you further details.”
Aislinn rattled off her information as her hand trembled around the phone. Forty pieces to be shown at a famous gallery in Dublin! Her mind whirled at the possibilities and she stammered out her thanks before hanging up with Martin.
Aislinn bent and put her head between her legs, drawing in deep breaths. A part of her was surprised by how much this meant to her. Perhaps there was a level of validation in getting her own show that she had never realized that she had wanted or needed. But, as Aislinn examined deep inside of herself more closely, she realized that it was absolutely true. Part of her had always dreamed of this happening.
“No time to sit around and panic,” Aislinn said sternly to herself and got out a pad of paper to begin making notes. She'd need to call her mother to thank her as well.
“Oh, screw it,” Aislinn said and threw down her pencil. She let out a happy screech and raced around the room, hands in the air like she'd just won a race. After several loops, she stopped, breathing heavily, and laughed at herself.
“Okay, now I can be an adult about this,” she told herself and went back to her list.
Chapter 18
Baird watched Aislinn traipse up the hill in the village, away from him. He could have sworn that she was taking pictures of him but when he had looked, she'd been focused on Flynn's restaurant.
Part of him wanted to run after her. He wanted to ask her about her work, listen to her laugh…just to be with her.
Stretching his calves against the wall of the boardwalk, Baird thought about what his research had uncovered this week.
Which was next to nothing.
There was simply no documentation that he could find about the cove glowing. Granted, he'd stumbled on hundreds of articles about luminescent fish but they didn't just switch on and off like that. Frustrated, Baird ran his hand through his hair as he climbed the steps to his small apartment.
Refusing to believe that the cove was enchanted, Baird settled on the next explanation. Someone had rigged a light on the bottom of the cove. Baird hoped with every last ounce of himself that it wasn't Aislinn who had done so. He kept running her face through his mind…she'd been disconcerted, panicked even. Nothing about her mannerisms had suggested that she was lying.
Baird wondered who else could be behind it. The legendary Fiona would be the next choice and Baird was determined to dig a little deeper there.
In the meantime, he had his first client to get ready for.
Chapter 19
Aislinn spent the next week in the hills around Grace's Cove, focused on her painting. And, most decidedly not thinking about Baird, Aislinn thought with a huff as she jammed her paintbrush into the pot of water sitting next to her. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself down. No need to take her angst out on her supplies.
Aislinn was in her courtyard, rinsing out her paint brushes from a day of painting the cliffs on the other side of the peninsula. She'd been moody all week and her work reflected that. Morgan said she'd never seen more stunning seascapes, and Aislinn secretly agreed with her. Maybe there was something to the old adage about artists and broken hearts.
Broken heart? Aislinn scoffed at herself. She'd been the one to walk away, she reminded herself. Baird and her simply weren't a good fit. Except, she'd trusted him with her secret. And when he'd rejected her it had hurt more than she'd expected.
A ball of shame and anger rolled in Aislinn's stomach and she clamped down on it fiercely. There was no way she was going to let Baird make her feel like less of a person. Who cared what that man thought anyway?
Aislinn crossed her courtyard to the small garden shed that she had converted into a darkroom. She had developed pictures earlier today and left them to dry. Opening the door quickly, she ducked through the dark curtains that she had nailed up to cover the entrance and conceal any last traces of light. Aislinn reached for the lamp switch on the table next to the entrance and flicked it on. A warm red glow illuminated
the shed and bounced off the pictures that she had strung up.
Aislinn stood in front of them and crossed her arms, studying each critically. The one of the dog in the old truck would sell in moments and she made a note to print more. The men laughing outside the pub would also sell well and it brought a smile to her face to see their happiness. Aislinn's heart jumped a bit as she stopped in front of the pictures she had promised herself that she wouldn't develop.
In the first one, Baird was running, his face creased in concentration, sweat dripping down his bare chest. Aislinn itched to reach out and run her finger over the definition in his chest muscles. Moving to the next picture, she sighed as she looked at a close-up of Baird's flexed bicep and his chest muscles rippling as he performed a triceps dip. Stepping back, she looked at the grouping of photos objectively. From an art standpoint, they were outstanding. The way she had zoomed in and positioned each shot showed expertise…as though she was in love with her work and her subject.
Aislinn stopped.
In love?
In lust, she corrected herself and reached to tear the pictures down. Her hand lingered over the photographs. The artist in her couldn't deny what she saw printed on these pages.
“Not happening,” Aislinn said out loud and pulled the prints down. Moving through the room, she pulled the rest of the prints down and placed them delicately in a file with tissue paper between each photo. She'd spend tonight framing the larger ones and have Morgan arrange them tomorrow.
Stepping out of the shed, Aislinn blinked at the last of the daylight.
“We come bearing gifts!” Keelin shouted over the fence and brandished a bottle of wine. Aislinn all but jumped out of her skin.
“Sure, and you're trying to give me a heart attack then?” Aislinn called with a laugh and waved her in. Cait followed closely behind.
The Mystic Cove Series Boxed Set (Wild Irish Books 1-4) Page 39
