The Driftwood Promise

by Suzie O'Connell

  She led him up to the tiny porch, unlocked the door, and stepped back to let him enter first, but he just stood there, frowning.

  “You lock your door,” he observed. “I didn’t think anyone in Sea Glass Cove locked their doors.”

  “Habit.” Since he apparently wasn’t going to head in first, she stepped past him into the cool interior of her home. “Got into it when I lived in Santa Barbara, and I haven’t managed to break it since I’ve been back.”

  “When did you live in Santa Barbara?”

  “Moved there about four years ago. Stayed there for a year.” She winced, unable to stop the memory of what had brought her to the renowned California city… and what had driven her back home to Sea Glass Cove with her heart shattered and her fear of relationships renewed. “Moved back right before Sam and Sean died—three days before, actually.”

  “What took you to Santa Barbara? Seems like quite a shift for a shy girl like you.”

  Erin chewed on the inside of her lip. This was not the kind of conversation she wanted to have on a perfect day like today, but she couldn’t see any way to avoid the question, so she gave the shortest answer she could and hoped it would be enough. “Chaz.”

  Four

  The grudging way she said it caught his attention, and he could guess who Chaz was without asking, but he did anyhow. “Who’s Chaz?”

  “My ex.”

  No surprise there. “Ah.”

  He wanted to press her about it, but now wasn’t the time. It wouldn’t be the time until she trusted him enough to open up about it, and getting to that point was going to take finesse and patience. Erin wasn’t the kind to give up her secrets easily. He’d sensed that immediately, back in June, and he was beginning to suspect that once she did, he’d find a pure, compassionate heart well worth the wait.

  “Let me show you around,” she invited with unveiled relief in her voice.

  The door from the carport opened into the wide living room, and he was surprised to see a newer wood stove sitting in the left corner. Sliding glass doors on the far wall opened onto a big deck.

  Her double-wide mobile wasn’t anything fancy, but with three bedrooms and two baths, it was plenty spacious. She told him that Owen and Sam had painted the wood-print paneling on the walls white and had installed the faux beams of weathered wood, but over the years since she’d bought it from them, she’d added her own touches—driftwood and shells and other nautical knickknacks and navy and aquamarine accents. The floor was covered with a speckled, neutral-toned carpet that invited him to kick off his shoes and curl his toes into its thick pile.

  The kitchen had been remodeled in recent years, and he suspected that was Erin’s doing. Hope had told him that Owen liked to cook, but the appliances were all fairly new—not quite old enough to have been installed when Owen and Sam had lived here. There was plenty of counter space without counting the snack bar that separated the kitchen from the living room. The dining room sat next to the kitchen on the same side of the house as the carport, and a walk-in pantry divided it from the living room. That definitely hadn’t been part of the original floor plan. The wall on the living room side might’ve been, but not the pantry.

  The whole place was artistically arranged and decorated, but rather than make him feel like he should be cautious so he didn’t disturb anything, the soothing color scheme and personal touches invited him to sink into the couch’s plush cushions and let go of his worries. It was a haven. Even the guest bathroom and rarely used spare bedrooms.

  At last, they arrived at the room Gideon was most curious to see, though he wasn’t about to admit why he wanted to see it.

  “This is my favorite room,” she said shyly, stepping aside so he could enter the master bedroom.

  He wasn’t disappointed.

  A queen-sized canopy bed with a driftwood frame draped with filmy off-white and sea-foam green fabric dominated the room, drawing the gaze from the sliding glass doors that opened onto the back deck and the sunny hillside that was her back yard. She’d strung white-wired mini Christmas lights up the posts and along the canopy rails, and it was easy to imagine her curled up in bed with a book; those lights would provide plenty of illumination to read by. The quilt, which appeared to be handmade, incorporated all the colors and patterns of the sea.

  Everything about her bed appealed to his artistic nature.

  “This is gorgeous, Erin,” he said, skimming his hands lightly over the driftwood frame. “Your whole house is.”

  “It was in pretty bad shape when Owen bought it, which is why he got it so cheap, but he did a great job fixing it up, and when Sam moved in with him….” She smiled fondly. “They’re both artistic enough on their own, but the things they did together still amaze me.”

  He tilted his head. “You compliment their artistic tastes, but I daresay you have some pretty formidable talents yourself.”

  “Owen built this. And he helped me build the rest of it.”

  “Yes, but you guided him. Everything in here suits you too well to be anyone else’s style. Even your brother’s, similar as it may be.”

  She regarded him with eyes narrowed and lips pursed. “You’re remarkably insightful.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve been trained by some top-notch professors and artists to analyze art and to find the artist’s voice in it. Plus, it’s my job as a photographer to read personalities. Gotta know how to get the exact expressions I need from my clients, right? That’s what they hire me for.”

  “Makes sense.” She tipped her head toward the sliding glass doors and started toward them. “Come on. I need to see what I have for fruit and veggies before we head to the store.”

  He started to ask why she was heading outside rather than to the kitchen, but as soon as he stepped outside, his question was answered. The hill he’d thought was a single slope was actually a narrow bowl, and dug into its south-facing slope was a gleaming subterranean greenhouse. Beside it, on terraces, were raised garden beds overflowing with vegetables. Awed, he followed Erin up the stairs to the greenhouse. The door opened into a small room filled with gardening tools—trowels and rakes, hoses, watering cans, empty pots, and everything else a gardener could possibly need. To the right was the door into the actual greenhouse, and he stepped into it close on her heels.

  The air inside was warm and heavy with the earthy fragrance of growing things, and even with the top vents open wide to let some of the heat out, it was tropical. He paused at the top of the short staircase down into the greenhouse to take it all in. The entire south-facing wall was glass and angled to make the most of the winter sun. Currently, shade cloths were pulled across it. Built into the hillside with concrete walls on the east, north, and west sides, the set-up was remarkably efficient. Glancing up and shielding his eyes, he noted the grow lights installed along the beams between the panes of glass. The place was set up to grow year-round.

  She had it all—small citrus and mango trees laden with fruit, melons, pineapples, and plants he had no hope of naming. She even had a dwarf coconut tree against the back wall, where the ceiling was highest. Various flowers added splashes of vibrant color, and his trigger finger twitched. What kind of photographer didn’t have his camera with him in a place like this? This made twice in less than twenty-four hours that he hadn’t brought it with him and twice he wished he had.

  “You like mangos?” she asked.

  “Love them.”

  “Here.”

  She plopped one on his upturned palm and handed him a small paring knife she kept in the greenhouse. As soon as he started peeling the skin away, the sweet fragrance of a perfectly ripe fruit curled around him, and he inhaled deeply. He sliced a chunk for her and one for himself, and when he sank his teeth into the soft flesh of the fruit, he purred. The juice trickled down his fingers, and he licked it away before it fell, unwilling to waste even a drop of its sweetness.

  “This is amazing,” he sighed. “Liam and my dad would love this place.”

  “You�
�ll have to bring them over some day.” She grabbed a basket of woven willow branches and made her way through her little paradise, perusing the offerings. “What are you in the mood for?”

  “Something tropical, I think,” Gideon replied, taking another bite of the mango. “I would’ve said whatever, but this mango spoiled me.”

  He offered to carry the basket for her and couldn’t help but smile as she selected the fruits she wanted, absently pinching off a dying leaf here and there out of habit. When she was satisfied with the fruit harvest—more mangoes, a pineapple, and melons—they headed out to the garden, and she filled the basket with lettuces, tomatoes, sweet red, orange, and yellow bell peppers, an onion, radishes, a cucumber, and carrots.

  “So… why do we need to go to the grocery store at all?” Gideon asked as they returned to the house and began the process of cleaning and preparing their harvest. “Because I’m pretty sure you have a wider variety of produce than they do.”

  “We still need meat, something to drink, and whatever other snacks,” she replied. “You cook?”

  “Only because I have to. I suck at it. But I think, if I had the set up you do, I’d find reasons to learn.”

  The smile she tossed him was exquisite—so open and honestly joyful. “I could teach you a few recipes while you’re here. If you’d like.”

  “What? Today?”

  “Not today. Owen usually does the campfire cooking. But sometime over the next few weeks.”

  Narrowing his eyes, he scanned her face. Was her invitation purely platonic… or did she realize what he wanted? When blush colored her cheeks and she averted her gaze with her smile turning shy, his heart leapt. The invitation might have friendly origins, but she was at least curious to see where it might lead. She was holding another door open for him and waiting to see if he’d step through this one, too.

  He glanced around her home. He felt he’d been invited to take a glimpse into her soul, and if her home was a genuine representation of her spirit, she was possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever met.

  Now might be a terrible time to test the waters of a new relationship, but if he didn’t jump in with her, she might not make the offer again, and there was too much potential to ignore. He’d just need to be careful with her.

  Turning back to her, he smiled. “I’d love that.”

  Five

  Gideon idly tapped his fingers against the lens cap of his camera and watched Erin, Daphne, and Hope put the finishing touches on their elaborate two-room driftwood fort. His trigger finger itched, but he hesitated. It was impossible to capture everything that soaked his senses; even the best shot would fall short.

  At his feet, his black Lab sprawled with her ears back, tongue lolling, and eyes gleaming with the pure joy of having exhausted herself swimming and fetching. He reached down to ruffle Shadow’s ears and murmured, “Happy dog.”

  She tipped her head back and regarded him with a grin of agreement.

  Owen strode over from the cooler with what was left of the pineapple from Erin’s greenhouse and joined him on the log. Gideon took a piece, popped it in his mouth, and nodded his head in thanks.

  “Man, that’s amazing,” he groaned. He reached for another piece, wiggling his brows at Owen and saying with a practiced lisp, “You sexy beast, you always know just what I like.”

  His companion’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. “It’s good to hear you joking around again. You had me worried last night.”

  “You and me both.” Gideon ate the last chunk of pineapple and leaned back with his forearms resting on the log behind him; it made a decent if not horribly comfortable backrest. “That greenhouse of Erin’s is something else.”

  “Isn’t it? When she asked me to help her build it, I had no idea how incredible it would be.”

  “Why am I not surprised it was her idea?”

  “She’s pretty amazing,” Owen agreed. “I wish she’d let more people see that.”

  Gideon nodded, adding that piece of information to his rapidly growing file of Erin-related thoughts. It fit right in next to the impression he had of her—that she was highly introverted and amazingly complex—and the suspicion that she was the exact opposite of Hannah. Sad as it might be, he agreed with what his father had said to him after he’d asked Hannah to leave. If he wanted to be happy, he needed a woman as different from Hannah as he could find.

  He shifted his gaze out to the cove where Owen’s mother and her beau were currently engaged in an all-out splash fight in the kayaks. The vibrant joy and affection on their faces…. Maybe that was something he could capture. He nudged Owen. “Think they’d mind if I took a few pictures of them?”

  “Probably not. And in fact, if you get a good one, I’ll pay you for it. Mom’s birthday is coming up pretty quick.”

  “You’ve got a deal.” Where he was sitting was as good a vantage as anywhere else, so he snapped a few shots of Red and Andra. Then he settled his camera in his lap again. “That’s about the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Owen’s lips lifted in a fond smile. “They’re great together.”

  “Wish my dad would give it another shot. I’d love to see him smile like that again.”

  “Maybe he will.” Owen leaned back, stretched his feet out in front of him, and knitted his hands behind his head. “It’s hard to come back from a loss like that.”

  “You would know better than most,” Gideon remarked. “But it can be done.”

  “Yes, it can.”

  His gaze wandered back to the girls’ fort, which appeared to be finished. Hope and Daphne were now poking through the line of driftwood piled at the base of the sand dunes for treasures, and Erin sat on the big log in front of her construction.

  “Owen, can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “What is it with your sister and those forts? She built one when Liam and I were out for the solstice, too.”

  “That’s a holdover from when we were kids, before we moved to Sea Glass Cove. Whenever Dad started yelling and pushing mom around, I’d take Erin down to the beach and build forts with her. Promised her she was safe there, that I’d never let anything happen to her.”

  Gideon’s brows rose. Whatever answer he’d been expecting, that wasn’t it. He lowered his gaze to the sand beneath his feet and shoved some into a pile with his toes before he spoke, trying and failing to swallow the sudden guilt for doing exactly what he’d promised himself he wouldn’t—asking her brother for the keys to her secrets. “That’s deep.”

  His companion only nodded.

  “Your dad was a genuine SOB, I take it.”

  “Yeah, he was.”

  Frowning thoughtfully, Gideon turned his gaze back to Erin. Sitting there on the log in front of her fort with the golden evening sunlight aglow on her face and in her long hair, she made every bit as beautiful an image as the one she’d made last night perched on the railing of her brother’s deck. Innocent contentment softened her features, and he had no trouble picturing her as a young girl huddled in another fort on another beach, sheltered as much by her big brother’s protective arms as by the sea-worn driftwood.

  Giving Gideon’s shoulder a brief squeeze, Owen stood and strode over to his sister’s fort. When he sat beside her and tucked his arm around her waist, she laid her head on his shoulder. He said something to her, and by the warmth in their smiles and the direction of their attention—out to the cove—Gideon didn’t need to hear the words to know what the man had said.

  If he was careful and if Owen kept Erin adequately distracted, he might be able to sneak around and get a better angle. With the light, he didn’t want to be right in front of them, but a forty-five-degree angle would be exquisite. And with the sharp contrast bringing out the textures…? A shiver of excitement trickled through him. He slipped from his seat and made his way slowly toward a spot that would give him the ideal angle. Just as he reached it, crouching so he was level with them, Erin tilted her face toward her bro
ther, her expression one of pure contentment. It was a look Gideon suspected she reserved only for Owen. To say she adored her brother was a vast understatement; the love she had for him was the paragon of unconditional, and given their history, it was no wonder.

  Suddenly, a potent desire to earn such affection from her stole the breath from him.

  He pressed the shutter button with awe and giddiness pulsating through him in alternating waves. That was the shot—the kind he lived for as a photographer. The kind that captured emotion in its purest, most honest light. Without checking, he knew the shot would be stunning in every sense of the word.

  He sat back on his heel and lowered his camera, and the movement caught Erin’s eye. For a moment that would be forever burned into his memory, he was bathed in the warmth of her fondness.

  Then it was gone, replaced by a veil of a smile that—while it still held a modicum of fondness for him—was cool by comparison. That’s why he hadn’t wanted her to know he was photographing her. He never would’ve gotten a shot like the one he knew was stored on his camera’s memory card.

  Come back to me, he thought, lifting his camera.

  But the magic was gone, and after another dozen shots of Erin and Owen gazing straight into the lens, Gideon switched his camera off and rose to his feet. When he turned to head back to the campfire and his camera bag, his heart nearly fell out of his chest. Red’s elder son, Ethan, stood a few paces away with his arms folded loosely and a grin lifting one corner of his mouth.

  “I hope you got that shot right before Erin realized you were there.”

  “I did.”

  “Hope tells us you’re a photographer by trade and not just a hobbyist.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Dad didn’t want to bring it up tonight—no business at beach parties—but are you, uh, looking to pick up a job or two while you’re here? Or is this strictly a vacation?”

  “It’s a vacation, but since I’m looking to move here, I’m not going to turn down any jobs that come my way. What do you need?”