A Season of You Page 7

  “Mina. I remember now. Bill rang and said you’d be coming today. Nice of you to help out.” The smile she directed at Mina was tight and hardly welcoming, but it was better than being run out of the room, so Mina would take it.

  She smiled back then nodded at Ryan Beck, Angie’s assistant who was hovering, as usual, by Angie’s side. He was dressed equally impeccably in a dark gray suit with a tie that wasn’t far off the shade of Angie’s suit. Mina hoped they hadn’t actually coordinated their wardrobes. That would be taking the festive spirit way too far. But their coordinated slickness made her feel that maybe she’d underdressed. She’d put on black jeans, a chunky knit sweater, and boots, even slicked on mascara and lip gloss. Cloud Bay wasn’t really a business suit kind of town. But if she’d thought it through, she would have remembered that Angie—and her shadow, Ryan—were the exceptions. But too late now. To avoid thinking about outfit choices, she turned her attention to the rest of the room to see who else had been roped into this nonsense.

  She didn’t get very far. Standing on the opposite side of the long black conference table, wearing dark pants and a red plaid shirt that made her feel slightly better about her own clothing choices, was Will. Unlike Angie, Will looked perfectly delighted to see her.

  Her stomach swooped a little. Damn it. She wasn’t going to be flustered by Will. There was nothing to be flustered about. She’d only had that mad thought about kissing him because she’d been sleep deprived and not thinking clearly. There would be no kissing Will Fraser.

  Resurrecting her smile, which she suspected had slipped a little, she nodded at Will. Then she turned her back on him and started saying hello to the rest of the committee members.

  Matt Hanlon, one of the town’s deputies, at least was a friendly face. He was engaged to Ivy Morito, one of Faith’s best friends. He stood next to Patty Bleecker, who ran the town bookstore with her wife Evie, and Sam Unger, who owned the largest grocery store on the island, the three of them talking quietly. Patty smiled at Mina but before she could join in the conversation, Angie clapped her hands briskly.

  “Okay everyone, let’s get started and then everyone who needs to can get back to work.” Her eyes flicked to Mina as she spoke, and Mina bristled. Was that a dig about her not having a job? Maybe she’d been too quick to defend Angie to Faith yesterday.

  But she was determined to play nice. After all, as far as Mina could tell, Seth made Lou happy. That was a good thing. One she hoped would continue. So she was probably going to have to see Angie at family gatherings for the foreseeable future. Easier to keep things civil.

  Angie wasn’t likely to be at Thanksgiving at least. Not with Faith hosting. Mina hadn’t asked Lou how she and Seth were going to spend the holidays, but Faith would’ve been a lot blunter about Angie if Lou wasn’t going to be at the Harper house for Thanksgiving, so maybe they were spending the day apart. Or doing one meal with Seth’s family and the other with the Harpers.

  Though how anyone could eat two Thanksgiving meals in one day—particularly if Lou was cooking one of them—was beyond her. But that was up to Lou. And as much as she liked Seth, Mina wasn’t going to cry if Angie wasn’t there.

  She wouldn’t be the only one missing. Zach was on tour, so he wasn’t coming home. Nothing new. Since Grey had died, Zach seemed to regard Lansing as radioactive. His visits were short and the gaps between them seemed to stretch longer and longer. She’d probably seen him more off-island than on in the last three years. But even though it would only be Faith, Mina, and Lou as far as family was concerned, she was sure Faith had invited a horde of other guests as usual.

  “Mina? Are you joining us?” Angie asked, her tone overly polite.

  Mina blinked and realized that while she’d been pondering family politics, everybody else in the room had taken a seat at the conference table. The only chair left unoccupied was the one to Will’s right.

  Crap. Just where she didn’t want to sit.

  “Sorry,” she said and walked around the table, trying not to look like she was scurrying.

  “Hey,” Will said softly as she took her seat.

  “Hey,” she said back, shooting a glance up the table at Angie. The mayor was fussing with a laptop, so she was probably safe. “What are you doing here?” Was he the joining in type? Civic responsibility wasn’t what she associated with a guy who owned a bar and brewed whiskey for kicks, but maybe that was unfair.

  Will folded his arms as Angie took her place at the head of the table, the movement tightening his shirt around his biceps. For a moment the pure curve of muscle highlighted by the sun coming through the windows behind them caught Mina’s attention, and her fingers flexed instinctively, itching for a pencil all over again.

  Weird. She hadn’t drawn figures for years. She’d spent the last three years painting the ocean. She drew Stewie and other dogs and cats or plants that grabbed her attention if she was out with her sketchbook, but mostly she’d painted the ocean that sprawled beyond the lighthouse windows. Over and over and over again. As if capturing its many moods might someday reveal a secret. What secret she had no idea. She just knew that all she’d wanted to capture since she’d picked up a paintbrush after Adam’s death was the sea.

  Definitely not people. Absolutely not a man.

  Definitely not the man she was staring at now. Who was gazing back with something she didn’t want to think about lurking in the hazel depths of his eyes. The same scent she’d breathed in from her sofa last night drifted across to her, and her breath hitched.

  Idiot.

  She broke the gaze and dug in her purse for a notebook and pen. She was here to take notes for Bill. Not to think about Will Fraser.

  “Pen and paper. Old school,” Will said.

  “I’m here instead of Bill. He’s in San Francisco.”

  “I know,” Will said.

  “You do?” How did Will know Bill?

  “Yes. Bill’s garden center isn’t that far from Salt Devil. He and Marla come in now and then.”

  “Oh.” She opened the notebook. Which turned out to be one of her smaller sketchbooks, not the notebook she used as a planner. Damn it. She turned the book over. Start with a blank page at the back. Easier to tear out once she was back home.

  “I have lived here for five years,” Will continued, sounding amused. “I have managed to meet people in that time. Being a business owner and all. Which is why I’m here.”

  “Very civic minded of you,” she managed.

  He hitched a shoulder, making another nice ripple in his shirt. “I like Christmas.”

  “People who like Christmas should want to spend it with their families.”

  “Well, my family lives a long way away and my mom is in France with her sister. They’re doing the European Christmas thing this year. So that option’s out. Besides, I like customers too, and the festival will bring tourists.”

  “Tourists who’ll inevitably get into trouble.”

  “I think the kinds of people who come to the island for a Christmas Festival are going to be a bit tamer than your sister’s CloudFest crowds.”

  Most people were tamer than the thousands of ardent music fans who swelled onto Lansing for CloudFest every year. But that didn’t mean they still wouldn’t manage to fall off a cliff or out of a boat or get caught in a tide. That meant what was usually a relatively quiet time of year for Search and Rescue wasn’t likely to be if the festival proved popular. Just what she didn’t need this year, when she was already behind on her deadline for the gallery show.

  “Tourists are tourists,” she said. “They get into trouble.”

  “I never pegged you for a pessimist,” Will said. But before Mina could answer, Angie clapped her hands again to get everyone’s attention.

  “Welcome everyone. Thanks for coming along today. We’re going to come back to a couple of the items we talked about last week, but first Ryan is going to give us a progress report on what’s happened this week.”

  As Ryan started to speak,
Mina started taking notes.

  “You know,” Will said, leaning slightly so he was practically whispering in her ear. “You could take notes on your phone. Then just e-mail them to Bill.”

  “Shh.” She shot him a warning glance, trying to ignore the lingering patch of warmth on her neck where his breath had touched her skin. “Concussion, remember. I’m not supposed to use anything with a screen much.”

  Will winced. “Sorry. I forgot. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just following doctor’s orders.” She turned her attention back to Ryan. Only to find several minutes later that she was no longer taking notes but instead sketching Will’s hands with rapid strokes of her ballpoint. Crap. She hastily turned the page, smoothing it down hard as though she could smooth away the image underneath with each stroke.

  She didn’t dare look at Will. What if he had seen it? As she focused again on what Ryan was saying, she saw Angie, at the far end of the table, watching her with narrowed eyes. Caught. Double crap. Pasting an innocent expression on her face, she picked up her pen and turned her attention back to writing, not drawing. This time she lasted about ten minutes before she realized that she couldn’t remember a single thing Ryan had said after “twelve inflatable snowmen” and that her pen was now sketching the curving line of Will’s eyebrow.

  Holy crap.

  She slammed the book shut just as Ryan finished speaking. The thump echoed across the room.

  “Something wrong, Mina?” Angie asked.

  “No, sorry,” Mina muttered. “Ignore me.” Why was this room so hot? Her cheeks felt like they were glowing. Damn pale skin. It gave far too much away. Doing her best to ignore the blush, she pulled the notebook back toward her. But she didn’t open it again. She knew exactly what would happen if her pen got another shot at blank paper. Whenever she got something stuck in her head that she really wanted to draw, she couldn’t shake it. Her fingers had a mind of their own.

  What seemed to be on their mind right now was the man seated next to her. Suddenly too big and too male. Too damn real.

  Worse, she was starting to think that thoughts of Will Fraser weren’t just a three-a.m.-can’t-sleep blip on the radar. Not when sitting next to him was making her so edgy. And even if she’d had the vaguest inclination to write a Christmas wish list, she was damn certain that an out-of-the blue inexplicable teensy crush on Will Fraser wouldn’t be on it.

  * * *

  “Going somewhere?” Stefan drawled as Will walked into Salt Devil’s kitchen carrying Mina’s Tupperware.

  “Thought I should return this,” Will said, holding out the plastic container. Perfectly reasonable excuse. Nothing to see here. If it worked on Stefan, hopefully it would work on Mina too. Though, in her case, he had a backup plan. He’d seen the drawing forming on the page of her notebook before she’d slammed it shut. He knew his own face well enough. What Mina was doing drawing it was another matter. One he really wanted to investigate.

  Besides, after she’d closed the book, she hadn’t taken another note. He’d only just managed to keep half of his attention on the meeting too. Christmas tree decorations and raffles and candy cane treasure hunts were nowhere near as interesting as the information that Mina had drawn him. Maybe she was one of those people who just doodled. But maybe not. His face had been clear in the lines she’d been drawing.

  He hadn’t even known she could draw. But clearly she could. Her long fingers had moved the pen over the page in an easy rhythm. Almost a dance. Lucky notebook, was all he’d been able to think after the fact that she was drawing him had registered. After that she’d slammed the book shut. Had she caught him watching her?

  Hopefully not. And what was she doing wasting her time manning the radio for search and rescue if she could draw like that? He didn’t remember anyone ever mentioning that Mina Harper was an artist. Couldn’t think if he’d ever seen her with a sketchbook in her hand anywhere. But the Harpers owned a big chunk of land and a long stretch of beach where she could hide away. And Mina didn’t often cross his path.

  When her husband had been alive, he’d seen her around town and the island far more often. But she’d retreated—understandably—after his death. He shook off the thought. He didn’t want to think about Adam. The guy was dead. Sad—Will had liked him a lot—but there was nothing to be done about it. He’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time—which just sucked—and died way too young. But Mina was alive.

  Alive and drawing him in her notebook, when she was meant to be doing something else entirely. He needed to think about that. And what it might mean.

  Plus he had his notes and Mina, if she was supposed to be reporting back to Bill about what the committee had decided, was going to need a copy of them. So that gave him two excuses to turn up on her doorstep. He’d seen her Jeep head out on the road that led to the Harper end of the island rather than take the left turn that would have taken her back to the neat white cement block building down by the waterfront where the search and rescue team were based when the meeting had ended.

  “Mina tell you she has a Tupperware shortage?” Stefan asked, one brow lifting.

  “It’s rude to keep people’s stuff,” Will retorted. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back before things pick up.” On a Tuesday in late November, Salt Devil wasn’t doing a roaring trade. Things would pick up after five thirty when people decided they needed a beer after work or that they couldn’t be bothered cooking dinner. But Stefan could handle the three people currently in the bar by himself for an hour or so.

  Stefan, who was, as usual, standing near the big stove stirring something—chili by the smell of it—simmering in a large pot, frowned. He moved away from the stove, coming to stand by Will. “Nice shirt.”

  Will shrugged. “Thanks, thought I might as well change early.” While he never really dressed up to tend bar—Salt Devil wasn’t that kind of place—he did make a point of changing out of whatever clothes he’d been wearing during the day to work at the distillery or in the office before he started a shift. This time of year, that usually meant a flannel shirt and a T-shirt with jeans and boots. Which was what he was wearing now. Okay, well, apart from the fact the shirt was somewhat nicer than usual. Green wool rather than flannel. A shirt he wouldn’t usually wear to the bar. One more suitable for a date. But no way in hell was he admitting that to Stefan.

  “You sure you know what you’re doing?” Stefan asked.

  Will hitched the container under his arm. “Pretty sure I can handle returning Tupperware.”

  Stefan’s gaze didn’t budge. “Which would be fine if that was all you were doing.”

  “You got something to say?” Will asked.

  Stefan smoothed a hand over his beard. “She’s been through a lot.”

  “I’m aware of that,” Will said. “I’m not an asshole.”

  “And you like her a lot.”

  Damn. He and Stefan had never actually discussed Mina before now. The uncomfortable truth. Better left unconfronted when previously there hadn’t seemed as though there was much chance of him ever being able to do anything about his crush. But that was then and this was now, and apparently his big brother felt the urge to interfere. Or second-guess. Or whatever the hell he was doing. “So what if I do?”

  “What happens if she shoots you down, is all. You’ve liked her for a long time, yeah?”

  “I’ve hardly been pining for Mina Harper,” Will said, giving Stefan a “drop it” look. “I’ve dated. Unlike some people I could mention.” Stefan hadn’t dated anyone since his last girlfriend had dumped him via Skype from Afghanistan. Three years ago.

  “You pick women who are short-termers,” Stefan said, ignoring Will’s attempt to change the subject. “Like Ali. Nice gal but you knew from the outset she was only here for a year.”

  “There was always the chance she’d stay.”

  Stefan snorted, shaking his head. “No there wasn’t.”

  Well, that was true. Ali had come to Lansing to teach at the elementary sc
hool on a year’s contract. Not many of the people who came to the island on short-term gigs—not that there were many of those—stuck. “People surprise you. We’ve stayed,” Will pointed out.

  “We sunk our life savings and then some into a distillery. That has a way of focusing your attention.”

  “And whose idea was that again?” Will inched toward the door.

  Stefan stepped in front of it, arms folded. Apparently he’d decided that now was the time for “Stop trying to change the subject.”

  “I’m not entirely sure what the subject is.”

  “You and Mina Harper. You sure that’s a good idea?”

  Will shrugged. “Hard to be sure about anything. But I figure it’s time I found out.”

  “She might not be ready. She might never be ready. Some people don’t get over a loss like that.”

  Their own mother being a case in point. She’d never remarried after their dad had died. But she’d been in her forties. Hardly old, but not as young as Mina either. “If that’s so, then I guess it’s better if I find out,” Will said. “Then I can get on with things.”

  “You in a sudden hurry to settle down?”

  “No. But I’d like to eventually. Of course, I’m not as old as you yet.”

  Stefan grunted and turned back to his chili. Standard response for Will making any mention of his brother’s love life. Stefan was in danger of turning into a monk. Though monks probably didn’t run bars and make whiskey for a living. Fancy herbal liqueurs maybe, but not whiskey. But right now he had more important things on his mind than Stefan. Like Mina Harper. And whether or not he was about to make a complete fool of himself.

  chapter seven

  It was dumb to be nervous about knocking on a door, right? A simple knock. Then, “Hi, Mina, I brought your Tupperware back, thanks for the cookies.” That was a completely normal and reasonable thing for him to do. Add in the offer of meeting notes, and there was no reason for her to think he was odd for turning up here.