Watercolor (Dragonfly)

by Moore, Leigh Talbert

  “They weren’t,” I said. “I mean, that’s how I got mixed up in it. They weren’t together, and they were afraid I’d tell you.”

  His eyes cut to mine, and I saw that flash of impatience.

  “I begged them to tell you,” I said quickly. “And I do think that’s when they started getting back together.”

  Again we walked in silence. Finally, Julian stopped and faced the Gulf. I pulled up short beside him. “I’ve got so many questions. There’s so much I want to know.”

  “I can believe it.”

  “He was at the hospital that night?”

  I nodded, and my chest warmed at his expression.

  “Your dad really loves you,” I said, slipping my arms around his waist. “You’ve always been so important to him.”

  His arms went around me, and I felt his chin rest on the top of my head. For several moments we didn’t move, and I could sense something was changing in him. The tension and anger was fading. He was even standing straighter.

  “I guess this means I’m somebody,” he said.

  I pulled back to face him. “You’ve always been somebody! And it’s only going to get better.”

  He pulled me closer. “Tell me the truth. Do you just love me for my money?”

  I laughed. “Of course!” Then he tickled me and I screamed. We both dropped to sitting on the sand, me in his lap. My arms were around his neck, and his hands held my waist.

  “Julian LaSalle, I’ve loved you since I wouldn’t look at you in algebra class,” I said softly. He leaned closer, and I kissed him. “I wanted to die every time you said something to me. That’s why I hid behind my books. I’ve been crazy in love with you for years.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Life is so screwed up.”

  “But somehow it all seems to work out.”

  Chapter 28

  Our prom’s theme was “A Night to Remember.” I felt like I’d been having nights to remember for months—even more in the last few weeks—so it was perfect for me. Mom was crying and taking too many pictures as we tried to leave my house, and Julian stood around with his hands shoved in his tuxedo pants pockets, seeming uncomfortable with all the emotional display.

  My dress was Tiffany blue and strapless. The color made my eyes bright green, and the skirt was filmy chiffon, which made me feel like a mermaid. It was the same length as those cheerleader uniforms Julian always admired, so he was an instant fan. He looked like a rock star in his tux, escorting me to his waiting BMW.

  “A night to remember,” he said under his breath, holding my door. “We’ll have to see if we can live up to that.”

  I kissed his nose before getting in. “We already have.”

  “That dress is causing a shortage,” he teased.

  “I was going to say just the opposite. Something’s on the rise…” I winked getting into the car.

  He caught me, holding me against the car. “Girl, your mom’s already crying. Hearing you talk that way would only make it worse.”

  I pressed my mouth to his in response, tongues entwining as his fingers tickled at my hem. “Get in before we don’t go,” he said in a tone that lit up my insides.

  “A night to remember.”

  As we drove south toward the Phoenician VI, where the event was taking place, I stared out into the black night. “Did you see your mom before you left?”

  He shook his head, and I chewed my lip. Prom was pretty important to parents, and I hated that he was still not speaking to her. I decided to let it go for now and hoped I could find a way to get them back together before August.

  Twinkle lights, fake columns, and arbors draped with white tulle filled the ballroom of the enormous high-rise. It was the same venue Brad’s dad had donated for the party after our winning basketball game, and the Tiki theme only occasionally peeked out as we made our way through the crowd.

  Party photographers snapped pictures nonstop, and Julian and I were frequent subjects as we’d actually managed to land the Cutest Couple title. It seemed our classmates had taken Summer’s ruse and run with it. And despite our animosity, she was probably happy. My couple status with Julian solidified her “Jack is mine” position.

  The tiniest twinge plucked at my stomach knowing how much I’d see Jack next year. Living with Rachel, with Brad at Tulane, we’d most likely cross paths at least a few times. My reaction to seeing him at the game wasn’t encouraging, but I’d cross that bridge when it appeared. I gave Julian’s arm a squeeze. I had no doubt who owned my heart now.

  Summer circled the room on Blake’s arm, and I didn’t tell Julian why I preferred to stay with Rachel and Brad while he chatted with his shop buddy. I wasn’t about to tell him about her spying or Will’s intimidation tactics. As far as I was concerned, I was out of the Kyser family business. I couldn’t imagine Will’s reaction to meeting Julian, or Jack’s for that matter. It was possible I’d be there to witness those introductions with the way things were going, but tonight was not about Kyser family troubles.

  “Where are you?” Julian said in my ear, holding me close for a slow dance. His hands were at my waist, and mine were clasped behind his neck. A touch of spice accented his usual beachy scent.

  I smiled. “Right where I want to be.”

  That response earned me a kiss, and we swayed to the music for a while. The dance portion of prom was pretty low-key, and after, we took group photos, avoided Blake and Summer—at least I did—until at last, Julian escorted me to the door, pausing before we exited behind giddy classmates.

  “Would you be disappointed if we went back to my house instead of heading to the after-party?” he asked. “I’ve got something I want to show you.”

  My brow lined. Brad had built another bonfire on the beach, and everyone was talking about who would be there and what they were bringing. I did want to join them, but he had me curious. “It had better not be a shortage of melons or whatever.”

  “Melons and bananas?”

  My eyes narrowed. “Julian…”

  He laughed, “You started it.” Our fingers were laced as he led me out to the car. “I’m pretty sure there will be a shortage, but that’s not what I want to show you.”

  I shrugged, “I’m curious.”

  “Good,” he grinned.

  The garage workshop at Julian’s house was unusually clean, and I noticed candles situated in a few of the windows. A soft yellow light replaced his usual harsh fluorescent bulbs, and the easel he’d been hiding behind the day I’d surprised him was draped with a sheet.

  “What’s going on?” I asked softly. The whole setup made me feel like I should whisper. It was warm and clearly planned. Any disappointment I felt about skipping the after-party disappeared.

  “Mom’s spending the night at Dad’s…” he paused, blinking as his brows pulled together. Then he did a little laugh. “That’s the first time I’ve said that.”

  “Does it make you happy?” I caught him around the waist, hugging us close.

  He shrugged. “I guess.” He rubbed my upper arms, looking down. “It feels like the circle’s whole now. Like before it was broken or a segment was missing, and now it’s joined. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes,” I said, then I leaned forward and caught his eyes. “Are you still mad at her?”

  Without a word he let me go, stepping to a mini-fridge hidden in the corner. I watched as he pulled out a bottle of sparkling wine and fiddled with the cork.

  “Julian?”

  He didn’t answer, instead he popped open the bottle and poured us both small servings in clear plastic cups. Walking back to me, he finally answered. “Yes.”

  My lips pressed together. I took my glass from him, unsure how to proceed. His feelings were justified, and I didn’t want to spoil our night. Still, I had to know. “Will you ever forgive her?”

  Again, he didn’t speak right away. I watched as he considered his answer. “Yes,” he said again, and I exhaled with relief. He caught me around the waist, pulling me close
. “When I think about it all, I get really angry, and I don’t want to talk to her.” My hand traveled up to his collar, sliding the now-open fabric between my fingers as I listened. “But I know eventually I’ll forgive her. I see it happening.”

  “I understand,” I said, smoothing his white shirt-front.

  “It just really burns that she lied to me that way. For so long.”

  My eyes blinked as I thought of the journals, of his dad and how he’d responded to lies. “You get that honest.”

  “Anyway, let’s not talk about it. I want you to see my surprise. Come here.”

  He took my hand and led me around to the easel sitting in the back corner. “Close your eyes.” I did, and a faint swishing followed by movement sounded in front of me. Then he touched my arm. “Open them.”

  A gasp slipped through my lips. It was a brilliant watercolor painting. “You did this?” I whispered, lightly touching the canvass.

  He stepped behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder as I studied it. In almost transparent layers of color, he’d created a scene of a girl in the bottom left corner. Her light-brown hair was in spirals and she was surrounded by deep purples, greens, and golds with street lamps and wrought iron. Her hand stretched up toward the opposite corner, where a dark-haired boy was leaning back on what looked like a beach. He was surrounded by brown and blue and the corresponding gold, and his hand extended down to hers. Between them both flew a small dragonfly. Mist clouded my eyes, and I reached for his hand, sliding my finger across the small tattoo near his thumb. Our two little insects appeared to be flying to meet each other at this angle.

  “I was thinking about next year and the following years,” he said, “and how we’ll always have these little guys reminding us.”

  Tears were in my eyes as I leaned my head back against his chest. He kissed it.

  “It’s true,” I whispered. “Are you giving this to me?”

  He laughed softly. “I don’t know. I kind of want to keep it for myself to remember. It’s going to be hard.”

  The hoarseness in his voice increased my tears, and I turned to face him. “But you said we’d be okay. We’ll make it work, right?”

  He smiled and bent down to kiss me. My hands held his cheeks as his lips pressed mine apart. Energy replaced the sadness I was feeling as his fingers lightly traveled to the back of my dress, locating my zipper and sliding it down.

  “Yes,” he whispered, and warmth flooded my stomach from both his words and the touch of his hands sliding across my back. “I’m not losing my angel.”

  My hands dropped to his untucked shirt, slipping to the skin beneath it. Our mouths reunited, and we were lost in preparing for the shortage ahead.

  What was coming wasn’t ideal, but we’d made it through worse than distance. The ties that had grown between us were stronger than ever, and should they waver, I only had to look down at my hand to know how he felt and what we had. I remembered his explanation when he’d shown me his small tattoo. Dragonflies meant deeper understanding. They meant new beginnings, and in some cultures they meant good luck.

  Standing here now, with him in my arms, I knew we had all three.

  ~ ~ ~

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  Mosaic, Book 4 in the Dragonfly series, coming 2014!

  Mosaic

  by Leigh Talbert Moore

  The future never works out as expected.

  People are not always how they seem.

  And time changes everything.

  The story that began in Dragonfly, grew more complex in Undertow, and culminated in Watercolor finds resolution in Mosaic.

  Continue reading for a special sneak peek at Mosaic…

  Mosaic Special Sneak Peek!

  Book #4 in the Dragonfly series

  By Leigh Talbert Moore

  Coming 2014~

  Present Day

  His feet sank in the soft beige sand of the beach he’d known since childhood. Walking this overcast morning, watching the storm building in the distance, he remembered a time when he’d eagerly anticipated days like this. Running to grab a surfboard, hoping for waves high enough to ride. He’d been in love with life back then, embracing experiences and going for whatever he wanted without caring about the consequences.

  He’d been pretty lucky with happiness and getting what he wanted too, but a lot had changed in the last twenty years. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d picked up a board.

  The invitation had arrived months ago, and he’d put off thinking about it until now, the weekend of the event. Had it really been twenty years? The past swirled through his memory as he watched the gray waters, the salty gusts pushing his dark hair back. He was still tall and slim, and most people mistook him for younger than he was. But he’d noticed the small lines around his eyes.

  Business. That was the only thing that mattered to him now.

  All the colors and distractions of youth were behind him. Marriage, kids, those things had somehow escaped him, and going into this weekend of reunion, he suddenly felt like he had nothing to show for himself.

  Which was ridiculous.

  He had money and power. Those counted for something—especially around here. He was the son of the most famous real estate developer on the coast, and as it turned out, he’d inherited his father’s keen business sense. He’d been successful at moving into development, and he liked it—unlike his brother, the golden boy, who now practiced medicine in Nashville.

  He could also have any woman he wanted, and occasionally he did. But he also had a past.

  The past. For a second he unclenched the vice grip he had on those memories and allowed himself to see her green eyes the last time they’d talked. Hazel eyes. She’d always corrected him. They were filled with tears. He’d said… so many things. He’d been so angry. So hurt and betrayed.

  But that didn’t excuse the choice he’d made. The words he’d said knowing they’d push her away for good. He hadn’t seen her face again since that night in his office. She’d told him he wouldn’t. This was the weekend he might.

  Lost in these thoughts, he walked back up the shoreline toward his office when he slammed into the small body that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

  “Wanker!” The girl hissed, her wild black curls flying around her head in the breeze.

  “I’m sorry,” he started to laugh at her petulance mixed with a light British accent when he realized pages were swirling around them and scurried to help her collect them all.

  “Bloody hell,” she continued fussing. “They’re ruined!”

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated, still grinning. “I didn’t see you there.”

  “You should watch where you’re going,” she exhaled as they returned to each other, messy stacks of papers in hand.

  He stifled his mirth. What a funny kid.

  “What is all this?” he asked, looking at the pages filled with words and small sketches.

  “My memoirs, of course,” she said with a flourish.

  “Memoirs? How old are you?”

  “Fifteen.” She momentarily deflated, but quickly recovered. “But my mother says I come from a long line of artists. So I’m writing and illustrating my life now before I don’t have time for such nonsense.”

  “Some people would call it keeping a diary.” He studied the pages. The kid had talent, he had to confess.

  “And some people are not as creative as I am.”

  “I can believe it.” He handed the papers over, catching her clear blue eyes. “What’s your name?”

  “Juliet. But you can call me Jules. Everyone does.”

  “That’s a very fancy name, Jules. Parents big Shakespeare fans?
”

  She shook her dark curls, and shoved one behind her ear. “Don’t think so. I mean, Mum likes to read and all, but I’m named for my dad.”

  “Your dad?” His brow creased. “You live around here?”

  “We flew in from London for a school reunion. Mom, Aunt Gabi, and I are all staying at my grandparents’ house in Fairview.”

  Gabi? He paused and studied the girl a moment. “Your dad didn’t come?”

  “Well, my real dad isn’t in the picture, if you know what I’m saying,” she slanted a familiar blue eye at him. “But Brandon stayed across the pond.”

  “Who’s Brandon?” He felt a sting of something. It couldn’t be jealousy. He didn’t even know who this girl was. For certain…

  “My step-dad. Mum finally agreed to marry him a few years ago, but it never took.” She exhaled, looking out at the water. “They separated last year. Poor Brandon. They think I don’t hear them arguing, but it’s hard to ignore.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t—”

  “It’s pretty simple, actually.” Jules shrugged and started walking. Unable to help himself, he followed her. Was it possible this girl was… but her next words derailed that train of thought.

  “She’s still in love with my dad,” she said. “She tries to deny it, but Brandon and I know the truth.”

  Shock and energy surged through his chest. Was he furious? Was he glad? One thing was certain—he needed to hear this. “How do you know?”

  “Oh, it’s the little things mostly.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, she has this painting he did of her in her closet, and once I caught her looking at it.”

  His brow creased. It wasn’t enough. “That doesn’t prove much.”