He cracked up.
"You don't believe me."
He leaned back in his own lounge chair and reached to her, resting his hand on her arm through the layers of blankets. "I don't think you are capable of being critical, no. Nor mean or nasty—even if you did nearly report me to airport security."
"You called me m'lady."
He yawned, his voice drifting. "Yes, because that's what servants call royalty."
A giant sweep of a wave bellowed as it landed onto shore. Royalty. Never in Sophia's life had she felt anything close to such a revered title. Another wave landed, this one with no less intensity. The sound of it washed over her, both a comfort and a tremendous force. What would it be like to be considered worthy? To fall freely into one's purpose? Another wave caused the earth to tremble, the night breeze to swell with the kind of melody that brings forth dreams.
Chapter 7
The chatter of a sparrow woke Christian from slumber. He shivered, which was par for the course when you've slept all night without a blanket on a lounge chair next to ... royalty.
He scratched his beard then rubbed his eyes, noting the coldness of his nose on the way up. The sun's glow, coming from somewhere behind them, caused him to squint. A good sign that today was gonna be a good one.
He took her in with one swipe of his gaze, her hair a rumpled mess, part of the comforter tucked up around her neck and the other half dusting the ground. Christian scooped up the tip of wayward comforter and pulled it over his legs, then settled back with a yawn.
The sea had quieted some after last night's concerto, though the wind and water could still be heard mixing it up just a few yards off. He'd come out here to download after a strange day followed by an even stranger evening in the restaurant. Jackson's usual banter appeared to be laced with the barbs of a stingray—tiny yet sharp, painful.
On the other hand, Sophia had seemed pleased that he'd painted her well.
Sophia stirred, then sighed. He watched her, then looked away. What right did he have to be here on this lounge chair as she slept? He should go. He'd crossed the line, staying here all night. Besides, if Jackson discovered him, he might come to the wrong conclusion and throw him out. Then where would he be?
"Chris?"
He turned his head. She'd never shortened his name like that and he liked the sound of it. "Morning."
She rubbed her eyes and brushed back her hair with a hand. "You must be freezing." Her voice was groggy.
He patted the section of blanket that barely warmed his legs. "I managed to get some use from your castoff."
"Hmm. Nice of me to leave that for you."
He chuckled. "Thank you, your highness."
"What were we talking about last night again?"
"You mean, what was I saying that bored you enough to fall asleep during our conversation?"
"I believe you fell asleep first. So ... maybe you were boring yourself?"
"You're one of those early risers, aren't you?"
"Guilty."
His eyes traced the shape of her face. He enjoyed teasing her, but the more he grew to know Sophia, the more she rose to the challenge of his humor. A part of him wondered how many challenges she'd rise to where he was concerned. He took one last breath of cool sea air. "I should go."
"Wait." She threw off her blankets and they landed on him in a heap. "Let's have coffee first. I'll make some."
He swallowed back any kind of resistance. He wasn't an idiot. Nor would he allow himself to fantasize about this moment—she'd offered him coffee, and nothing more than that.
Still, a niggling that began the night he'd scared the heck out of her at the airport had grown with each encounter of Sophia. Christian sat up. He leaned his elbows on his knees and dropped his gaze to the ground, allowing the raw pain of a good stretch to help him with perspective. His own choices had brought writer's block upon him, and until Sophia's arrival, he'd been experiencing a full-blown attack. He'd seen improvement since then, though he hadn't attributed it to anything—or anyone—specifically.
Until now.
He gulped. Her approaching footsteps caused his heart to knock ferociously in his chest.
"I hope you like it black." She handed him a cup. "It's the best way."
He took both mugs from her, steam rising from them. "I'll take your word for it."
She slid back onto the lounge chair and pulled the comforter over her. After Sophia settled against the backrest, she reached for her mug and took a sip. "Mm. Perfect."
He too took a sip and ... winced. "Wow. Strong."
She smiled. "I know. I doubled up the pods. You know, because a certain someone told me how bad the coffee was." She paused. "You're welcome."
He gave her a half smile. Yeah, he'd said that, hadn't he? "So your antidote for bad coffee is to have more of it. Interesting concept."
She gave him that cute laugh again. "Sometimes you don't know what you're missing."
That pounding of his heart revved again, only this time it made an enormous loop, like the roller coaster at Disney's California Adventure.
Sophia squared her eyes on him. "Are you okay?"
He swallowed, settling both his thoughts and the erratic jostle inside his chest. He'd never been the guy to hold back, to keep from saying what he was thinking when he thought it. So why the hesitation now? He took another sip of the dark brew that turned into a gulp. When he pulled the mug away, his eyes found hers. The morning light cut a soft swath across her makeup-less face. Her eyes sparkled when she watched him, and somehow he found courage to tell her how he felt about her, something he only now had begun to realize.
"Sophia," he started ...
A song played from somewhere inside her guest room and she jerked a look over her shoulder. "Raven?" She slid a worried glance at him and threw her legs over the side of her lounger and stood. "Sorry. That's my rep on the phone. Must be urgent for her to call me this early in the morning. Will you excuse me?"
"Of course." He downed his last sip of coffee with the hopes of stilling his heart, though he knew that the load of caffeine he'd ingested very well may have the opposite effect.
Sophia emerged from her room, mouth open, eyes wide.
Christian stood up. "That doesn't look good."
Sophia pressed her hand into her cheek. Her eyelashes fluttered as she looked up at him, those eyes still wide. "That was Raven, my rep. She's three hours ahead in New York," she said. "There's a post ... on Instagram. Liddy posted it. Of me."
"Liddy?" Christian said.
Sophia's eyes found his. "Meg's good friend. She ... she was her matron of honor."
"Ah. I think I remember." He didn't, but he was trying.
Sophia lowered herself into her lounger, her expression dazed. "The post has started to go viral, Raven said."
"What was the post about?"
She snapped a look at him. Man, she looked beautiful in the morning ...
"A photo ... of me." She dropped her gaze to her phone then darted a look back up at him. "I don't have Instagram on my phone. Do you?"
He patted his pocket, surprised to find his phone there. It hadn't buzzed all night. He thumbed through his apps and found Instagram, which he hadn't opened in a year? Two?
Sophia peered over his shoulder. "RyterMan? That's ... clever."
"I was young when I signed up."
"Hmm."
He laughed and pulled his phone away. "Don't 'hmm' me!"
She reached over him and tried to tug the phone back. "So sensitive. Can you find the post?"
He scrolled with his thumb. "Do you know her account name? Or her last name?"
"Quinn. It's Liddy Quinn."
She crossed her arms and rocked side to side next to him, antsy.
"Oh. Wow." Christian leaned closer to her so they could both see his screen. "This is it," he said, pointing to her picture.
"Really?" It wasn't the one she feared would draw attention, the one with her and Meg. It was another one that she di
dn't recognize. She stretched the picture on the screen with her thumbs. "I was afraid of something like this," she whispered.
"Afraid? You look ... you look amazing in that photo." His heart did that harsh pounding thing again. Liddy had captured Sophia in a contemplative moment, her hair upswept, a glance over one shoulder. But the color struck him more: red. A sort of translucent, rosy red. He took in the photo again, unable to remove his gaze from her face, nor could he dispel the desire of wanting to know every detail about what was running through her mind the moment the photo had been snapped. Pull yourself together, man. Finally, he said, "I'm not surprised it's got so many likes. But what has that got to do with your rep?"
Sophia had that dazed look in her eyes again as she gazed out to sea. "She says her phone is ringing off the hook. Buyers are asking for that dress."
"I see."
"Do you?"
"Not really." He scratched his chin, still not clear on the problem. He didn't know much about the dresses she designed, other than they were usually lightweight in muted colors, but he felt certain she had the ability—and creativity—to design something similar to what she was wearing that day. Or wait—was that akin to plagiarism?
She sighed, the sound of it like a cry, and lowered herself into to the lounger. Christian's former publisher and ex-agent had both urged him onto social media, which he had done, but begrudgingly. Signed up for everything but found all that posting and cross-posting too mind-bending to keep up with, so he'd quit all but a couple. It wasn't the interaction with people that had driven him to jump off the never-ending internet highway, but the constant competition for higher numbers. More followers. More likes. More views. At one point he'd asked himself a simple question: At what cost?
Maybe that was the crux of Sophia's reticence in rejoicing at the moment. He pulled the comforter up around her and tucked her in, then sat on his own chair, facing her. "I think I understand a little of what you're going through. But you can hire people to handle social media for you. It doesn't have to be so overwhelming."
She smiled weakly. "Thank you. I know I can—Wade has told me that too."
Punch to the gut.
"But that's not the issue," she said, continuing. "I ... that dress is quite old. Out of style. Liddy and Meg saw it with my things and begged me to put it on. I don't design like that anymore."
"You designed it?"
"Yes, of course."
He knew it. Wanted to jump up and punch the sky. They'd given him such grief at the restaurant last night when he'd dared to suggest that Sophia's color palette shouldn't be limited to black and white. From the moment he'd spotted her at the baggage carousel, she reminded him of a watercolor painting that once hung on his parents' wall at home. Ethereal. Intimate. A blend of color and space.
A tear slipped down her cheek, and he reached for her hand. "Hey."
"I'm sorry you are seeing me this way. Probably tired from sleeping outside all night."
He brushed a second tear from her cheek, surprised by the intimacy of the act. It was not yet 6 a.m., but a boldness began to barrel through Christian, and at this moment, he wasn't sure he could stop it if he tried. He'd come here to get away, but in meeting her, he'd found a sense of home. Lightness and air seemed to follow her around, sweeping him up in it. He wanted more of that.
He enveloped her hand in both of his. "Sophia?"
The shrill of her cell phone startled them both. An arrow lodged in his chest, blocking his airway.
She removed her hand from his and answered her phone.
Wade.
Seriously? At six in the morning? Sophia continued to talk to him about the Instagram post and who-knew-what-else, so Christian stood, shoved a hand in one pocket, and headed for the handrail. The sea had turned churlish and yet he reminded himself that it was going to be a good day. The stars aligned last night and the sun arose this morning, casting a perfect glow.
But the more Sophia smiled and nodded and spoke words of affirmation into that blasted phone, he wondered ... had he read everything wrong?
"This is what you wanted!" Wade downed his second espresso of the morning. "We have to jump on this, Sophia. Would have been better if you already had your own account, but we can make this work with Liddy's."
"But I don't even know if that's okay with her—"
“Let's offer her a cut."
"A cut of what?"
"Of sales. Oh, I don't mean anything particularly large, but let's offer Liddy an incentive to put up more posts. We also need to find people who will share the original post. I'm working on that now. When did you say Liddy would be joining us?"
Sophia felt lightheaded. Her mind spun. Liddy had agreed to meet with them this morning, though they hadn't talked about it, but honestly, Sophia's reaction when Liddy did walk in could go one of two ways: hug her tight or slug her. Good thing she never had a propensity for violence.
"When will you be able to get the dress into production?" Wade's question crashed into her thoughts.
"I am still thinking about it."
Wade smiled. "Spoken like a true artist, but Sophia, you need to act quickly."
She exhaled and snapped a look at him. "Wade, I appreciate all of this, but first, let's talk about your fee. Because it is likely that I cannot afford you."
"Afford me? Listen, I knew your father. I'm already being paid handsomely by the inn. Let me do this for you on my own dime. I want to."
She swallowed a sip of water. "Why?"
Wade went silent for a moment, one pregnant moment. His dark brown eyes penetrated hers before he finally replied. "Is it enough to say that I enjoy spending time with you?" He paused long enough for her to admire the trim silhouette of his chambray sport coat, his cream shirt open at the collar, contrasting the rich color of his hair. And the way he continued to stare at her.
His voice sank deeper. "You are creative and talented, and I would love to see your designs on every woman who walks through the inn's entry doors."
Sophia enjoyed spending time with him too, though she'd not yet dared to admit it. Wade brought a calm presence into the frenetic memories of her past. Structure. Safety. And a hope for better things to come. She bristled at the idea of being a damsel in distress, though. She would need to make that clear.
"You are much too kind to me. I appreciate your help, Wade. I-I enjoy spending time with you as well."
He gazed at her a beat longer than usual, which made her heart make a surprise flip. She caught her breath and allowed it to fill her again, then said, "But I insist on paying you back."
Wade frowned and began to speak, as if in protest, but Sophia stopped him with one palm in the air. "And I'll start by buying you your morning gallon of espresso."
He was laughing at full throttle as Liddy arrived at their table, a boxy indigo diaper bag dangling from the crook of one arm and a baby with flyaway hair over her shoulder. Wade stood to pull out her chair for her, but first she bent and gave Sophia a peck on the cheek.
"Phew. Sorry I'm late. Still getting used to having to be presentable before 10 a.m." Liddy took a seat and glanced up at Wade. "Thanks." She plopped Beau Junior onto her lap.
The baby squirmed and Sophia held out her arms. "May I?"
With zero hesitation, Liddy plunked him into Sophia's waiting embrace. She blew a breath that dislodged several strands of hair from her face and laughed. "Thank you for the invitation. Now, what can I do for you?"
Sophia cuddled Beau Junior and nodded at the menu. "Please. Order breakfast first, and then we will explain."
The waiter swung by and took Liddy's order just as Meg pulled up a chair and sat down. "Ryan, I'd like a gluten-free blueberry muffin and a matcha tea."
"Right away," Ryan said.
"So what are we all meeting about?" Meg asked.
Liddy gave her a mock scowl. "I believe this is a private meeting. Were you even invited?"
Sophia gasped. Neither woman looked all that upset with the other, though. She could
never tell with these two. "Liddy," Sophia interrupted, "a post of yours has gone viral. Have you seen it?"
Wrinkles appeared on Liddy's forehead and she scrunched her nose. "On my account? Shoot. I haven't looked at it in days—how do you know?"
"Raven called. She's my rep in New York, and, well, she's been getting a lot of calls from buyers. She traced their interest to your post."
Liddy gasped, covered her mouth, then splayed her fingers wide in the air. "Oh my gosh! The picture I posted of you in that ravishing dress?"
"What picture?" Meg asked.
"You weren't invited," Liddy quipped.
Sophia nodded. "Yes, it was a photo of me."
Liddy lifted her chin to the ceiling and sighed. She recovered. "I don't think I ever remembered to send it to either of you. I was scrolling through my phone while nursing Beau Junior in the middle of the night and found a gorgeous pic of Sophia. So I posted it without thinking."
Wade cut in. "Well, you must've been thinking like a marketer, because you used her name—and now there are buyers clamoring for her designs."
"Well," Sophia said, "for this design, in particular."
Liddy laughed. "I'm a genius."
Meg rolled her eyes at Liddy. "Oh shut up." She then sat back, smiling. "This is great news. Have you told Jackson?"
Sophia shook her head.
A server appeared with their dishes and beverages. He disappeared as quickly as he had come.
Wade picked up his mug, but before taking a sip, he cut a concerned look Sophia's way and said to everyone, "She's still taking it all in, I think. We're here this morning to strategize the best way to make that post grow even more—so that all that interest will actually generate sales. Second, she needs to get the dress into production right away."
Liddy gave her a half-smile, half-worried frown. "That won't be too hard, will it?"
Sophia hugged little Beau tighter still. "I don't know."
Meg touched her arm. "Sophia, honey, for someone whose design company may be about to take off, you don't look too excited. Is everything all right?"
"It's just ... that dress. I'm not sure it fits my line, exactly."
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