Picture Perfect (Butler Island) (8 page)

“—Relax, Livvy… I paid the ride
attendant to give us some privacy for a few minutes.”

“What did you say?” she asked as she
removed her hands from her face and met his gaze.

“I wanted us to have some privacy. So
I paid the guy to—”

“No—not that. What did you just call me?”

Shit, now you’re totally fucked! Way
to go, Casanova—you probably said another girl’s name…
“Um…
Olivia
?”

“No, that’s not what you said. You
called me
Livvy.
That’s… that’s what my parents used to call me…”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“No—it’s okay. Nobody knows that…”
She stared into his apologetic eyes, the ice-blue hue suddenly warming with
desire.

“So, you’re not mad then?” he asked
for confirmation. Olivia shook her head slowly from side-to-side, her gaze
never leaving his. “Good. Close your eyes”, he whispered.

“Now you want me to close them?” she
asked in disbelief.

“Uh-huh.”

“My pleasure.” Olivia closed her eyes
and felt his fingertips gently lift her chin upward.

Grant closed the distance between
them, his heart pounding, and his mind empty except for the overwhelming urge
to feel her lips against his again. The kiss started slow and controlled, but
moments after it began his restraint failed him. She tasted sinfully
sweet—almost too good—and with every lustful stroke of her slick tongue, he
could feel her fear subside.

She was gone… in the moment—
in
him.
Their tongues waltzed in unison, finding a rhythm that was both
emphatic and beautiful. As their appetite for one another increased, the
cadence of their colliding tongues became rapid and powerful.

 He tangled his hands in her hair,
his fingers gently tugging her honey-blonde locks, appreciative for the
opportunity to finally coil it around them like he’d wanted to do earlier
during dinner. He angled her head in an effort to deepen the kiss and heard an
encouraging moan escape from the back of her throat.

The sound was unmistakable… She was
enjoying it just as much as he was.

Suddenly he felt as though he
couldn’t get close enough. He wanted her. Wanted to explore her petite body
with his hands; caress her gentle curves like a priceless, sculpted piece of
art.

Nothing mattered except for this—not
her apartment back in New Orleans, her photography career,
the fact that she
was currently suspended one hundred fifty feet in the air…
nothing. For the
first time in her life, her mind was blank. There were no to-do lists, no
horrid or painful memories haunting her. There was just the intoxicating taste
and sensation of Grant.

Her sounds reverberated through his
body, igniting a hunger he’d never unleashed. He disentangled his hands from
her hair and trailed his fingertips down her spine. When he reached her bottom
he grabbed a hold and held on for life. Feeling as though he’d die if he didn’t
get closer, he shifted his weight, attempting to turn his body toward her. But
his swift modification had unforeseen consequences. His sudden movement
mobilized the bucket as well, causing it to sway again.

Olivia tore her mouth away from his
and gripped his shirt in both of her hands. “Don’t ever do that again!” she shouted.

“What?—you mean kiss you?” he asked
breathlessly.

A sexy smile spread across her wet,
swollen lips. “No—
you can do that.
I meant don’t rock the seat.”

“Got it.”

 He leaned toward her, attempting to
taste her lips again, but before he had the chance the ride jerked into motion.
Her eyes clenched and her grip strengthened as they descended.

Careful, Womack, that sensation in
the pit of your gut isn’t from your descent.

Yeah, he needed to be careful.
Falling for his best friend’s little sister could only end badly…

CHAPTER 6

The sun was desperately trying to
stake its claim in the late morning sky, but the thick blanket of murky, gray
clouds shielded much of its brilliance thus far. The clouds were gracefully
moving north toward the mainland, indicating that the sun would soon prevail.

Olivia sauntered toward the mailbox.
Before she’d left New Orleans she’d completed the necessary paperwork to have
her mail forwarded to Butler Island. At the time she wasn’t certain how long
she’d be out of town. It wasn’t unusual for a week’s worth of mail to clutter
her mailbox back home. She trav
eled out of
town often; sometimes leaving on a
moment’s
notice. But her spur-of-the-moment return to the
island was going
to keep her away much longer than a week. In fact, she’d already been here for
almost three weeks and her departure date had yet to be determined.

After opening
the small metal door, she
acquired the paper contents inside, sorting through them until she came upon a
manila envelope from Adversity Magazine. She tucked the remaining mail under
her arm and then slid her index finger under the fold to pry the package open.
Inside she discovered an advanced copy of next month’s magazine, one of her
photographs printed on the cover.

The picture had been taken three
weeks before she’d returned to Butler Island. She’d traveled to Washington
State to capture damage from a 5.0 magnitude earthquake that’d struck the area
sur
rounding Mount Rainier. The photograph
had
captured a group of scientists kneeling in front of a broken segment
of road, studying the damage near the base of the volcano, the majestic
mountain’s snow-capped peak visible in the background.

Olivia reached into the manila
envelope and unveiled a sizeable check for the use of her photograph. This
wasn’t the first time one of her photos had made the cover of Adversity
Magazine, but it was the first time she’d been rewarded a check with that many
zeros. Apparently the magazine was beginning to appreciate her unique
perspective, her freelance compensation proof of her hard work and talent.

Photography had always been
rewarding—not always monetarily—but personally. She loved capturing moments in
time through the lens of her
camera, sharing
her perspective anonymously
through her still shots. It still amazed her
that photographs could evoke such emotion—without sound or movement: anger,
inspiration, empathy. Sorrow. Illustrating catastrophe in current events was
only part of the job—extracting emotion from the person viewing her work was of
utmost importance.

Since her return to the small island,
she hadn’t captured many shots. But that was soon going to change. She needed
to speak with Chief Handler and ask permission to accompany the firefighters on
future calls. Most likely she’d only capture the rescue of the occasional
stranded cat in a tree. But on the off-chance that another “
suspicious”
fire broke out, she wanted to be prepared.

The sun was finally beginning to win
its battle with the murky clouds, its warm radiance glaring upon her skin.
After quickly heading inside, she reached for her camera and her keys. Her
destination: the beach. The jellyfish encounter robbed her of the opportunity
to capture still shots of the powdery sand, clear gulf water, and the hypnotic
horizon several weeks ago and with the clouds finally dissipating, a quiet
afternoon with her camera at the beach was long overdue.

Raising his forearm to his brow,
Grant wiped a bead of sweat away. He’d been sanding the exterior siding of his
beach house for most of the morning, preparing the wood for a fresh coat of
paint. He’d inherited the home after his grandpa died five years earlier. Over
the years he’d made improvements to the interior: painted the walls, refinished
the hardwood floors, and updated the kitchen and bathrooms. But he’d saved the
dull, lackluster exterior for last.

Grandpa Gibson was eighty-four when
he passed, his frail frame unable to manage the upkeep of his beloved home any
longer. When Grant had first moved in, the task of restoring the historical
stilt-home seemed daunting. He’d been so overwhelmed. After the initial shock
had subsided, he’d set a plan into motion and little by little, transformed his
inheritance into his personal coastal sanctuary.

The radiant sun chased the remaining
dismal clouds from the sky, casting its warm, rejuvenating rays upon his bare
back. A break from his hard work was long overdue. After tossing his sandpaper
into his toolbox, he sauntered inside, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and then
returned to the deck. He sat at the patio table and then took a pull from his
beer, scanning the horizon.

He hadn’t been able to get his date
with Olivia out of his mind. It was by far his best first date ever. He’d
learned a lot about her and had even shared a glimpse of his past—something he
didn’t do very often. In fact, come to think of it… that was a first for him,
too.

The Ferris wheel ride couldn’t have
gone better either. She’d been terrified, but had trusted him. Olivia stared
fear in the eyes, refusing to let it cripple her and observing it had
fascinated him. Hell, who was he kidding?—everything she did fascinated him!
He’d thoroughly enjoyed their kiss and judging by her erotic moans, she had as
well.

After they’d left the boardwalk she’d
driven him home. He’d kissed her goodbye—this time with more control and
restraint—and before he’d exited the car, she’d promised she’d call…

That was four days ago.

He’d carried his cell phone with him
everywhere, afraid he’d miss her call. He even dialed her number a time or two—
okay,
more than a time or two—
but had always hesitated to press the final digit.
She’d
said
she
would call. Maybe he was just overreacting? Maybe she’d been
busy…

Yeah, that was probably it. She was
probably organizing her closets or…

Listen to yourself, Womack. You sound
fucking pathetic! She’s been busy alright—busy avoiding you!

Yeah, he was afraid of that. Because
for the very first time in his adult life, he’d walked away from a first date
desperately wanting another.

Grant took another pull from his beer
and froze when his eyes landed on a familiar image: a black Mini Cooper parked
approximately one hundred feet to his left in the adjacent public lot. He
placed his beer on the patio table and then stood, scanning the beach in search
of the owner. He finally spotted her, attaching her camera to a tri-pod not far
from her parked car.

He glanced toward the deck railing
where his chocolate lab was lazily lounging and then smacked the side of his
thigh several times to get his attention. “Come here, boy”, he instructed. When
the dog leapt toward him, he knelt down and gave his companion a satisfying
scratch behind the ears and in return, he received a sloppy, wet lick to the
cheek.

“You see that girl over there, boy?”
he asked as he pointed in Olivia’s direction. “I’ve got a nice, juicy treat
with your name written all over it. All you have to do is run over there and
let her pet you. What do ya say?”

 The dog answered with two loud
barks, com
municating his understanding.
“Alright, boy, go get
her!”

Without hesitation, the dog hurried
down the
wooden steps and took off toward
her direction.
Grant waited several seconds and then followed suit.

By the time he reached them, Olivia
had already knelt down and was running her soft fingertips along Dexter’s neck.
His dog appeared to be in a state of pure bliss.

 Damned lucky dog—what he wouldn’t
give to trade places with him right now…

“Hey”, he called out. “Sorry about
that!”

“It’s okay! He yours?” she asked.

“Yes ma’am.”

“I didn’t know you had a dog. Where
was he
when you were fixin’ up my foot a
couple weeks
ago?”

“Probably inside napping.”

“Oh. What’s his name?”

“Dexter.” Grant whistled and jerked
his head back toward the beach house. “Dexter, go home!” he instructed. Happy
to please his owner—and secure his promised treat
—
Dexter pulled away
from Olivia’s grip and raced back toward the deck.

“He’s beautiful”, she said as she
watched him run away.

So are you…
“Thanks.” He
gestured toward the
equipment behind her.
“That’s a fancy-looking
camera you have there.”

“This is my pride and joy—I bought it
a few months ago. Do me a favor, will you?” Olivia pointed to the area in front
of the camera. “Stand right over there.”

Grant shook his head and crossed his
arms. “Oh, no—I don’t do pictures.”

Placing one of her hands on her hip,
she tilted her head to the side. “Oh c’mon, it’s just a test shot. I need to
adjust my focus—I promise I won’t make you do any silly poses.
Please
…?”
she asked as she innocently batted her long lashes at him.