Love on Lavender Island (A Lavender Island Novel Book 2) (8 page)

He heard the muffle of a phone being passed.

“Adam, dear?”

“Hey, Gert.”

“Did you find the flatiron like I told you?”

“Uh . . . wait, flatiron? I thought you said curling iron.”

“No, I said
flat
iron. Girls of Amanda’s generation use flatirons, dear.”

Adam sighed. Amanda’s birthday was in just a couple of weeks, and Gert had been pushing him to buy her something. Amanda had been crushed about having to leave Alabama so quickly and had left many of her personal items behind. Gert had suggested a few things Amanda had lamented leaving, including a “flatiron.” He’d first pictured something you’d flatten clothes with, but Mr. Fieldstone had pointed him in the direction of hair products. And then he’d forgotten the term. He’d stared at curling irons the whole time, at their different “barrel sizes,” which confused him. Adam had ended up leaving in a huff, perplexed.

“I’ll go back,” he told Gert. He couldn’t let this defeat him. Certainly he could handle one teenage girl’s birthday present?

“Okay, write it down, dear:
flat
iron.”

“Got it.”

“Do you want me to get it for you? My hip’s been giving out, but maybe Bob could take me down the hill and we could—”

“No, no, that’s okay. You rest, Gert. I’ll get it. I promise.”

“And a card.”

“A card?”

“A birthday card. Get something nice, and write something meaningful inside. It might be hard for you two to communicate right now, but take this opportunity to write something nice to her.”

Adam nodded. Gert was probably right. He and Amanda had gotten off to a rocky start, but he just needed to try harder.

“All right, dear,” she said. “You take care.”

“You, too, Gert.”

“Maybe you can come over one of these nights soon for some red velvet cake. It looks like you’re losing weight. I’ll pack you a few dinners, too. Bring Amanda.”

“Thanks.”

Adam hung up and pinched the bridge of his nose to keep a headache from coming on. He was going to miss Bob and Gert. He’d always said he wanted to leave this island the entire time he was growing up, but now that it was becoming a reality, damn . . . he would miss some of these people.

He glanced out the tiny office window and did a double take at Paige Grant walking by. He wasn’t used to seeing guests—especially between dude groups—walk along the back way, along the planks that ran in front of the pine forest. Seeing her made his pulse race.
Damn.
That almost felt like good, old-fashioned attraction. He’d nearly forgotten what that felt like.

Back in his more randy, carefree days, he’d felt plenty of attraction. He’d enjoyed a string of females every summer, as far back as he could remember, because when you lived in a resort town, there were new girls every season.

As he got older, though, the “summer girls” became part of normal life, normal expectation, and Adam realized he had no taste for the local girls anymore. The local girls were around forever, while the summer girls were deliciously temporary. No strings, no messy breakups, no expectations of forever. Adam had had enough worry and responsibility in his life. He certainly didn’t need girls tipping the scales. So the summer girls grew up and became summer women. And Adam grew up relishing them. It had worked his whole life.

But ever since his dad’s first heart attack six years ago, he’d only had time for the most basic of actions and reactions: get up, take care of the ranch, haul feed, fix fences, take care of the hotel patrons, take care of the horses, rinse, and repeat. Impressing new women, or thinking about things beyond his fence line, never seemed to enter the picture.

But now, as he stared out the window at Paige, he remembered how she’d gotten his blood pumping the day before. How she’d made him smile. How he’d felt strangely protective of her when she’d encountered that intruder. How he’d felt bad when the lights clanked out at the hot tub and she’d been scared. How he’d felt that twinge of nervous empathy crawl through his arms when he’d removed that splinter in her foot . . .

He watched her walk along the back porch to her room—her arms loaded with two big bags—and suddenly wanted to talk to her again.

But some kind of sense kicked in, and he told himself to ignore her. His life was a shit-storm. He had no right thinking about, or looking at, a woman right now. Especially a woman to whom he could offer nothing. And especially a woman who wanted something from him, business-wise, that he couldn’t provide.

He rustled some papers, moved some things around on his desk, tried to concentrate on the month’s payroll. But as he glanced up at Paige through the window again, his blood started thrumming, his heart started working, and he took a deep breath.

Ignoring her was going to be like ignoring lightning.

CHAPTER 8

The next morning, Paige sprang out of bed, practiced ninety minutes of pranayama breathing exercises, went into her favorite hatha-yoga moves, then popped open her laptop. She was eager to get going on her renovation.

She was also nervous about seeing Adam again. But since he’d seemed busy with his own work this morning—she’d watched him head out to the stables when she glanced out the window while unrolling her yoga mat this morning—she decided to just stay focused on her own work and keep her head in the game.

First, she needed to chat with her mother. The fact that her mom wasn’t calling yet was good. It meant she trusted that Paige was doing fine. Which had bought Paige another twenty-four hours without having to get on the phone and mention Adam’s name. Ginger Grant was amazing at reading her daughters, especially when it came to men, and Paige was afraid of what her voice would reveal when she gave her mom a rundown.

Not only that, but she didn’t want her mom to read into her possible failure to get Adam to agree to the Dorothy Silver sale. Even if he didn’t agree, she thought she might be able to at least get use of the meadow for the gazebo, but she didn’t want to get her mom involved in the tug-of-war. She’d handle it on her own.

She piled her hardware supplies and groceries into her golf cart, then puttered across the property. As soon as she got everything set up, she grabbed her phone and sat at Gram’s dining table.

“Mom? How are you? I haven’t heard from you for a few days.”

“Oh, darling. I’m sorry. I spent last night in the hospital.”

“What?”

“Now, dear, it’s nothing. Mrs. Terrimore from next door took me. It was fine. They monitored my heart rate and did an EKG and made sure everything was—”

“An EKG?”

“Paige, please. It’s fine. I’m fine. Now, how are you? How is everything going there with the esteemed young Mr. Mason?”

Paige winced at her mom’s judgment. Ever since they’d come up with this plan, she’d been calling Adam that, when she wasn’t directly warning and reminding Paige about his jail terms.

“It’s . . . fine. Wait—was this the same type of test they took last time?”

“It was different. So what’s he like?” Paige could practically hear her mom’s long fingernails impatiently drumming the kitchen table.

“Different how?”

“Paige, please. I’m fine. I’m the mom and you’re the daughter. You are not supposed to worry about me. I have lots of friends here taking care of me, and I promise to tell you if anything serious comes up. Now tell me about him.”

Paige made a mental note to have a talk with her mother’s doctors as soon as she returned. Obviously she’d never get the real story from her mom. The doctors had taken an EKG once before, when the chemo treatments had first begun, but it worried her that they were taking another.

“What’s he like?” Ginger pressed again.

Paige tried to turn her attention back to defending the boy her mother never knew she’d crushed on so hard. If Ginger had known, she’d have used it in their constant arguments regarding all the bad decisions Paige had made.

“He’s . . . not like I remembered.” It was the only thing she could think to say. She knew that too many adjectives would give her away.

“Paige.”
Her mother’s voice held the timbre of warning. Paige could picture her, her silky auburn bob shimmering. It was a wig she began to wear after the first couple courses of chemo, but it almost exactly resembled her real hair from before. She habitually reached up when she was nervous, pushing a few strands back with the tips of her narrow, French-manicured fingers. “I hear something in your voice.”

Paige pressed her lips together. She knew her mom would read things into this. “Mom, it’s fine. Tell me more about why you went to the hospital. Was it your legs? Were they checking for blood clots?”

“First tell me about Adam.”

Paige was trapped. She tried to think of vague descriptions. “He’s . . . uh . . .
tall
. Polite. Smart. He has a loyal staff up here, and—”

“Oh, Paige, for goodness’ sake. You’re attracted to him, aren’t you?”

“Mom.”

“I know you. ‘Tall’ means attractive, ‘polite’ means charming, and ‘smart’ means savvy. I’m just worried about you. You can’t make good business decisions if you’re swept away by the man.”

“Mom.”

“This is just like that summer.”

“It’s not like that summer.”

“Then it’s just like later, with Terry Connor—remember him? Remember how you got swept away, and I ended up having to fire him as the wedding photographer?”

“This is not like Terry Connor.”

“And Brandon Nichols? Remember the DJ that you got wrapped up with, and he ended up as a no-show on the Brewster wedding?”

“Mom, I was
eighteen
.”

“Paige, you wouldn’t keep things from me, would you?”

A wave of nausea swept through Paige. Her mother always used that line—it had been her trump card. It was how she got Paige to tell her about the first boy she’d kissed, the time she’d been only thirteen but tested all the wine in the fridge, the time she’d snuck out her mom’s car overnight to meet some friends at the beach. That line was like a truth serum.

“Paige?”

“It’s fine. Everything is fine.” Paige sank back into the chair and waited for God to strike her down.

“Because I’m counting on you. And so is Dorothy. Do you need me to come up there?”

“No.”

“I think you need me.”

Paige gripped the phone and closed her eyes. “I will be
furious
if you come up here. You just had an EKG. You need to rest. Everything is fine. Adam is fine. He’s polite and smart—and by that I mean
polite
and
smart
—and he seems to be a hard worker. He’s not in any kind of trouble with the police, like you were worried about. That’s it. Now stop. He needed to discuss some things with his lawyer, but I’m in discussions with him now about the gazebo and the orchard, and it’s going to be fine. I’m cleaning up Gram’s place and researching local vendors. But this place is in serious disrepair, Mom. Also, most of the wedding vendors are in LA, so that’s a huge hassle, getting everything across on a ferry, and the staff we’ll need to take care of it will be enormous. But I’m working on it and—”

“Paige, don’t tell me you can’t do it.”

“No, I’m not saying that. I’m just saying—”

“We need to pull this off.”

“I’m not saying—”

“Don’t lose this deal, honey.”

“I’m not going to lose it. I’m just saying—”

“Just get Adam to lend us at least some of the land. Especially the orchard, plus the area for the gazebo. We’ll take care of the details later.”

“Of course.”

“
Great.
Great. You’re doing great, baby. Is he anything like his father?”

Paige stalled over the sudden shift. “What?”

“If he’s anything like his father—”

“Mom, stop talking about Adam. Let’s move on. I wanted to ask you about the size of the gazebo and—”

Her mom continued as if she hadn’t heard her. “He’ll be shifty, wily. Is he good-looking? George was so good-looking—with that blond hair and those blue eyes . . . he looked like Robert Redford. And Adam is probably charming. He got into all that trouble, remember? With that girl? What was her name?”

“I have to go now.” Paige couldn’t bear to tell her mom about Samantha, or Amanda. Her mom would have no sympathy. Ginger had always thought of Adam as a troublemaker at best and a deviant at worst. And, when business was her mom’s primary objective, she had that uncanny way of turning off her heart. “Are you sure you’re fine?”

Her mother seemed almost disappointed to be snatched from her memories of George, but she cleared her throat and said yes.

“Are you doing the yoga moves I taught you?”

“Yes, actually, they’re quite good, Paigey. They do make me feel better.”

Paige smiled. She’d been working on a set of yoga moves specifically for her mom’s chemotherapy-induced body aches and was now expanding the repertoire for chronic conditions like arthritis and fibromyalgia. She’d been receiving great feedback so far from Ginger and some of her friends.

“Do you want me to call Mrs. Terrimore to check on you?” Paige asked.

“For God’s sake, Paige, I’m not ninety. I’m fine. I have a cell phone.”

“But you don’t pick it up.”

“I listen to the messages,” she said indignantly.

“Have Natalie or Olivia called you?”

“Olivia called last night.”

“Do they know you were in the hospital?”

“Paige, please. We’re driving each other batty. Maybe we’d better hang up. I’ll call you again tomorrow night. Be good. And stay smart around Adam Mason.”

“I will.”

“You’re a smart girl.”

“I know.”

“Don’t let him take advantage of you.”

“Take
advantage
of me?”

“Just be smart.”

“I will.”

Paige hung up and looked out the window. The rising sun cast an orange glow through the pine branches lining the back of the property, dappling the green ground with what looked like gold dust.

Leaning against the countertop, she sighed.

This was going to be a delicate dance.

As she continued to stare out the window, gazing at the patterns in the grass left by the leaves, a figure in a cowboy hat caught her eye. She sucked in her breath and slid away from the window.

Could that be Adam?

And why was she
hiding
?

Dang.
She leaned forward and peeked out the window again.

A few more cowboys joined the first. All over her yard. Young, old, with great bodies.
What in the world?
It looked like a Chippendales show out there.

She saw her favorite cowboy leading the pack. Adam said something to one of the older guys, then tugged on his brim, wiped his palms on the thighs of his jeans, and stepped up to her porch.

“Howdy,” Paige said when she answered the door. She meant it to be sort of funny—she felt as if she were suddenly in a Wild West film.

“I brought some helpers,” he said.

She glanced over his shoulder. A couple of the young ones were inspecting a broken fence, and another was peering into the cellar. “I see.”

“This is Antonio, my super.” Adam pointed to the older guy, who was climbing the porch steps.

“Hello, ma’am.”

Being called “ma’am” for the first time made Paige’s brain stall. For some reason, she thought of her agent, Dirk—was he right? Was she going to be washed up in Hollywood before she ever began? But a second later, there was something oddly satisfying about it. It felt sophisticated. She briefly wondered at what age Lauren Bacall and Rita Hayworth were first called “ma’am.”

“Call me Paige,” she said in her best Rita Hayworth voice.

“Paige.” Antonio tipped his hat toward her.

“Antonio’s crew will replace the cellar door,” Adam said. “They’ll also patch up some holes on the roof and put a new screen over the chimney for raccoons. My wranglers there will fix your fence. That’s Luke, Gabe, Gordon, and Joe.”

Paige studied the four. All were muscular and young and cute. When Paige and Natalie were still early twentysomethings, they’d always joked that Lavender Island had a terrible shortage of that age category—which was part of the reason they’d never wanted to come here. Little did they know the hot twentysomethings were up on the hill, working on this ranch with their muscles bulging out of their cowboy shirts.

“Thank you for the help,” Paige said. “But I don’t know if I can afford all this.”

“The labor’s on me,” Adam said. “And the materials for the fence and roof are items I had left over. These safety issues are things I meant to do for Helen anyway.”

“Thanks, Adam.” Although he’d intimidated her before—and had been causing a flurry of emotions pretty much every time she looked at him—she now sought his gaze and bravely held it to convey her appreciation. She didn’t even need to call on Ava Gardner or Lana Turner for courage. She simply let her heart fill with sincere gratitude and met his stare. “Truly,” she added in her own voice.

For the first time, she saw him falter. All this time, she’d seen him as a rock from the earth—confident, dismissive, not caring a lick whether she existed or breathed. But in that one moment, when she said “truly” and held his gaze for maybe a second too long, she saw his expression flicker with uncertainty or confusion. He almost looked flustered.

He cleared his throat and pivoted on the porch. “I, uh . . . I have a generator for you. It’ll get you by for a few days until we can get the electricity problem fixed.”

“A few
days
?”

“You can sleep at the resort—I have your room reserved through Thursday—but the generator will allow you to at least charge your phone and a few power tools. Pedro and I will arrange to get the electricity fixed by Thursday.”

“Thursday?” Paige felt her shoulders fall. This would make things harder. But it wasn’t the end of the world. She could work around this and still stay on her deadline. “Okay, the generator will be great.”

She made herself busy (and tried not to stare out the window) while Adam and his biceps hauled and situated the generator. As he stepped away, he adjusted a few balustrades around the porch that were coming loose, then inspected the bottom step that was starting to fall apart. Her eyes traced his every move as he wandered out to the fence line to get the wranglers started on the fencing project.

Paige put her water glass down and went to adjust the curtains in the dining room so she could get a better view. From atop a dining chair, she tugged and tugged, trying to get the one side over without snagging. At one particularly forceful tug, though, she lost her balance and fell into the window screen. As if in slow motion, she found herself tumbling—along with the entire screen—outside the frame and straight into the grass.

“Ooof!” Her belly and elbows broke most of her fall. She could hear the men shouting and running toward her. She slowly rolled over and stared into the sun.