What was she doing here? She should call the whole thing off. She thought of her humble, everyday pictures hanging in that elegant-looking gallery and those butterflies went wild.
She drew in a shaky breath, unable to breathe. Unexpectedly, Elliot shocked her by reaching out and covering her trembling fingers with his.
“This is going to be great,” he said. “I’ve got a good feeling.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled, drawing more strength than she would have imagined from the simple gesture.
“Why don’t you go in and find out where they would like us to unload? I’ll take care of Cyrus.”
She suddenly wanted him inside with her, all that solid, comforting strength to lean on. He was the kind of man a woman could always count on, whether she needed bad guys taken out, a shoulder to cry on or just a supportive hand on hers when she was frightened.
No. She straightened her shoulders. She could do this. After all the weeks of preparation and work, she could make it the final few steps.
“Thank you. This shouldn’t take long.”
He squeezed her fingers one more time. “You’ve got this,” he repeated.
She would do her best to believe him. Megan checked her reflection one more time in the mirror on the visor. She looked like someone who had just spent eight hours in a car—and who had slept for three of those hours.
She couldn’t fix that now. Mary Ella would have to accept she would be disheveled.
She climbed out of the SUV and headed for the front door of the gallery but it burst open before she even reached it.
Mary Ella Lange rushed out, all energy and elegance and warmth.
“Megan! I’ve been watching for you all day. Oh, I’m so happy you made the drive safely.”
The other woman hurried to her and folded Megan into a big hug, which might have felt odd given their short acquaintance but somehow only conveyed the other woman’s generous enthusiasm.
“How was the drive?”
“Lovely, actually,” she answered, laughing a little. “It’s a beautiful time of year to be driving across the western United States. We found some beautiful wildflowers and a waterfall outside a rest stop in Wyoming.”
“I’m so glad.” Mary Ella glanced at her vehicle. “Oh, you brought a friend with you. How wonderful.”
“I... Yes.” She had no words to describe exactly what Elliot was to her. Friend certainly fit, though the very notion still took her by surprise.
It didn’t cover everything, though. Not heated kisses beside a tumbling creek or feverish dreams where those kisses were definitely leading to more.
Mary Ella grasped both Megan’s hands in hers. “I can’t tell you what a buzz your exhibit has created, both here in town and elsewhere. After I sent out the initial press release along with a few of your photos, I’ve had calls from art critics from around the state, wanting to come to the opening.”
Art critics.
Panic felt like a living creature inside her, clawing at her throat. “I... That’s great,” she said weakly.
“And wait until you see the space we set aside for you. I think you’re going to love it.”
She wasn’t sure why, but Mary Ella struck her as a woman who had seen both tragedy and great joy in her life. Megan had liked her from the moment they met at Eliza Caine’s house.
“Where would you like us to park? Is there a delivery space behind the building to bring in the prints?”
“Where you are is great. You were lucky enough to nab a prime spot. Let’s bring everything in.”
The other woman had the demeanor of a kid about to run down the stairs on Christmas morning to see what was under the tree. All Megan could worry about was that she and Elliot had just driven eight hours to deliver an SUV full of coal.
Heart pounding, she returned to her vehicle as Elliot was opening Cyrus’s crate, leash at the ready.
“Hi. I’m Mary Ella Lange. Welcome to Hope’s Crossing.”
He shook her hand. “Elliot Bailey.”
“Any relation to the true-crime author by the same name?” she asked.
If Megan hadn’t been so nervous, she might have found it rather endearing when Elliot looked flustered.
“He is that Elliot Bailey,” she said for him.
She looked delighted. “Oh, wait until my husband finds out you’re in town. He adores your books! My daughter owns a bookstore in town. If I had known you were coming, we could have arranged a signing or something!”
“It was, um, a spur-of-the-moment thing,” he said, looking disconcerted by the attention. “Will you excuse me? Cyrus here needs to find a patch of grass. I think it’s rather urgent.”
“What a darling dog,” Mary Ella exclaimed. “If you’re looking for grass, the bead store just next door has a little garden in the back.”
“Are you sure it’s all right?” Megan asked.
“I promise, it’s fine. My daughter-in-law owns it. If you go through the front of the store and explain you have a dog emergency, they should let you straight back without delay.”
She almost volunteered to take him. The dog was her responsibility, after all, but Elliot was already leading Cyrus away.
“Is that your dog or his?” Mary Ella asked.
“Mine.”
“He’s adorable. And, if you don’t mind me saying, Elliot Bailey is gorgeous, too. Who knew? He looks so solemn and stiff in the publicity photos on his book jackets!”
She had to agree, though Megan didn’t say so aloud.
“Do you want to wait for them to come back before we start unloading? I’m assuming you brought him along for those lovely muscles.”
She didn’t want to think about his muscles or her entirely too vivid dreams about them.
“Something like that,” she said. “We can start unloading some of the smaller pieces. Then Elliot can help out with the bigger, bulkier prints.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
She opened the back of the vehicle and she and Mary Ella grabbed several wrapped prints each and began carrying them inside the gallery.
“We’re going to set you up in this space here,” the woman said, leading her to a large room behind the main section of the gallery.
Her name was already there, printed on a placard over the door.
Megan Hamilton. Fine Art Photography.
Oh, dear heavens. She never should have agreed to this.
She drew in a breath, pushing away the negative thoughts. She knew where they came from—the chaos of her childhood.
She had talent. In her heart, she knew she did. Mary Ella believed it as well, otherwise she never would have offered Megan this amazing opportunity.
Somehow she had to find a way to get out of her own way and enjoy the accomplishment.
“What do you think?” Mary Ella asked.
“This all looks amazing,” Megan exclaimed. “I still can’t really believe this is real, that I’m not dreaming.”
“It’s real,” Mary Ella Lange assured her. “And you’re going to be a smash. Trust me on this.”
She would try, Megan resolved, though it might be among the hardest things she’d ever done.
“I want to unwrap everything right now,” Mary Ella said, all but clapping her hands together in glee, “but let’s carry the pieces in first.”
Elliot met them at the door. “I’m here to help. What would you like me to do with Cyrus? It’s a warm day, probably too warm for him in the car.”
“Oh! I should have told you that you could leave him next door,” Mary Ella said. “There are always a few dogs running around back there to keep him company. But behind the desk there is just fine.”
Elliot found a spot for the dog, looping the handle of his leash under the chair so he had room to explore but not to wander and possibly knock down high-doll
ar sculptures. Then they all returned to her SUV for another load.
Mary Ella carried a large print inside on her own, leaving Megan alone with Elliot.
“She seems nice,” he said.
“She is lovely. I thought so the first time I met her, at Eliza and Aidan’s for Jamie and Julia Winston’s engagement party. I liked her before she ever asked if she could show my work at her gallery.”
She did like Mary Ella but was reserving judgment about her husband, a crusty billionaire named Harry Lange, who owned the local ski resort and lodge.
“Not only nice, but she obviously has superior taste,” Elliot said.
It was the perfect thing for him to say. She drew in another breath and felt the last vestiges of her panic float away on the soft, lovely May afternoon.
“Thank you. I needed that.”
He smiled, looking so gorgeous it took her breath away. “Anytime.”
His arm was back in the sling but it didn’t seem to bother him as he carried in a couple of the larger prints.
Soon they were all inside and Mary Ella was practically bouncing off the walls in her eagerness.
“Okay. Now the grand unveiling. Are you ready?”
Ready as she would ever be. Megan nodded and held her breath as the other woman ripped off the first paper.
CHAPTER TWELVE
NONE OF THEM said anything as Mary Ella removed paper wrapping after paper wrapping and set the framed prints around the room. Three dozen of them, her very best work.
By the time each had been revealed, Megan was so nervous, she felt sick to her stomach.
“Oh, Megan,” the gallery owner breathed.
She finally allowed herself to meet Mary Ella’s gaze and found her expression so radiant that Megan’s fingers itched for her camera. She could capture the other woman here, in her element, surrounded by art.
“These are spectacular. So much better, even, than I imagined.”
A weight the size of her SUV seemed to lift off her.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Beautiful,” Elliot agreed gruffly, and again she had to catch her breath at the sincerity in his voice.
She looked at her work, trying to see these familiar prints through their eyes. She had a few favorites. A trio of elderly fishermen out on a weathered, colorful wooden boat, their features wrinkled and sun-worn as they cast their lines out onto the lake with steam rising up around them into the morning air.
Elliot’s new niece Gabi hugging Katrina and Bowie’s dog, their faces squished together and both beaming with love while the sweet light of dusk gathered around them.
A pair of little boys in muddy jeans, hair drenched with the rain that poured down around them, one saluting while the other pulled down the flag at the elementary school—a lucky shot she had captured after going to the school to pick up Bridger and Cassie one day.
“Oh, I was excited for the opening before,” Mary Ella said. “Now I’m utterly feverish with anticipation.”
She had another week before she had to panic about that, Megan told herself.
“I’m so glad you like them,” she said.
“I do. And everyone else will, too. Trust me.” The other woman gave her a sharp look and suddenly turned maternal. “You’ve had a long drive and should rest. There’s nothing more we can do this afternoon.”
“There isn’t?”
“I’d rather organize the display when we’re fresh. Why don’t you check into the lodge, relax for a few hours, maybe have a lovely dinner at one of our restaurants here in town? I can highly recommend my daughter Alex’s restaurant, Brazen. I promise, you won’t be disappointed. Then we can meet back here tomorrow morning to discuss the details of the exhibit and how to show every print to best advantage.”
As much as she might like to move forward and finish what she had come here to do, Megan sensed Mary Ella was right. They would have better results in the morning.
“What time would you like me here tomorrow?”
Mary Ella pursed her lips. “Why don’t we say eight? Is that too early? That way we should be able to wrap things up by noon and you can even head home when we’re done, if you want—though of course you’re welcome to stay another night at the lodge, if you’d like.”
“Eight works.”
“You know how to get to the Silver Strike, right? Go down Main Street, turn left and drive until you see the sign for the ski resort. It’s about six miles from here up a box canyon. You’ll see the resort as soon as you drive as far as you can.”
As part of her compensation for the gallery showing, Mary Ella had arranged a room for her at her husband’s ski resort.
“We can find it, I’m sure.”
That reminded her. She needed to talk to them about getting an extra room for Elliot. Wouldn’t it be her luck to show up at the lodge and find out they only had one room available?
This was a ski resort community. She imagined that their tourist cycle was similar to Haven Point’s, with May considered shoulder season—too late for winter recreation and too early for the summer tourists. They must have a room—and even if the lodge was full, surely Elliot could find a hotel room somewhere.
She wasn’t going to worry about that. She hadn’t been expecting him along on this trip. If he couldn’t find a room, they would have to make do.
“Thank you for everything,” she said to Mary Ella. “We’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.”
She picked up a patient Cyrus and left the gallery owner with more hugs and assurances about how well the exhibit would do ringing in her ears.
“Now what?” Elliot asked as they walked out into a lovely Colorado late afternoon.
“Why don’t we check into the lodge? I can take Cyrus for a walk and some much-needed exercise. Then we can figure out where we want to go to dinner. I’ve heard good things about the restaurant Mary Ella was talking about. Brazen. When Jamie Caine found out I was coming to his hometown, he insisted I couldn’t miss it.”
Jamie was marrying her dear friend Julia Winston. If someone had told her before Christmas that the two of them would get together, she would have thought them crazy. They seemed an unlikely pair—the sexy pilot and the reserved librarian. Now that the idea had sunk in and she had seen them together, they fit perfectly.
“Sounds like a plan,” Elliot said as he opened the door for Cyrus and let the dog into the now-empty back seat.
“You drive, since the seat and mirrors are already set for you.”
Hope’s Crossing was charming, she thought as Elliot drove through the downtown area and followed Mary Ella’s directions toward Silver Strike Canyon, where the ski resort and lodge were located. The scenery was spectacular and the town had obviously made an effort to focus on aesthetics.
When they arrived to check in, they found the lodge had plenty of available rooms.
“I’ve got two connecting rooms on the first floor. Would that work for you?”
“That sounds good to me,” Elliot said. “What do you think?”
She thought she hadn’t given this enough consideration. The idea of Elliot sleeping only a thin wall away left her slightly breathless.
“Sure. Thank you.”
He insisted on carrying in her bag and Cyrus’s crate to her room, waiting until she unlocked the door before carrying them inside.
“I’m going to see about renting a car for the morning while you’re at the gallery.”
“You can drop me at Lange Gallery and use mine, if you want to.”
“It would be easier to have my own transportation. I’ll check into it. And while I’m making arrangements, what about dinner? I can call for reservations. What time would you like to eat?”
“You have work to do. I don’t mind grabbing room service or even going down to the on-site restaurant by myself.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“I’ll give the restaurant a call and let you know.”
“Sounds good. Thanks.”
“I’ll be in touch.”
They shared a slightly awkward moment when he was leaving. If he had been any other friend, she might have hugged him or given a kiss on the cheek, but she was afraid to do anything more than hold the door open for him.
She really had a terrible crush on Elliot. How mortifying was that? Now she had to spend an entire evening in his company, just the two of them, eating in a romantic restaurant.
How would she possibly be able to keep things in perspective and remember they were merely friends—and that was all they could ever be?
She had no idea. She simply would have to do her best.
* * *
THIS WASN’T A DATE.
Elliot stood outside Megan’s hotel room door, letting those words play over and over in his mind.
Yes, they were going to dinner at an elegant restaurant. Yes, he had dressed up a little, ironing a fresh shirt, putting on his blazer and shaving away the day’s stubble. Yes, he’d even used a little bit of aftershave, which was rare for him.
That didn’t mean this was anything like a date. They were merely two friends sharing dinner in a lovely Colorado resort town.
And one of those friends happened to be wildly attracted to the other one.
He couldn’t let himself think about that. He would simply have to work hard all evening not to remember how delicious her mouth tasted and how perfectly right she felt in his arms.
This was stupid. He had spent the entire day with her. What were a few more hours?
He finally knocked, put on his stiff, formal FBI face and waited. When she answered the door, all his good intentions flew right out the window. She had pulled her hair up in a loose bun and had put on a little more makeup than she usually wore. She wore a soft black dress with a colorful silky wrap over her shoulders against the spring chill and she looked gorgeous—not just pretty, but take-his-breath-away stunning.
The Cottages on Silver Beach Page 14
