“What?”
“We left the window open again.” He kissed the top of her head.
“Tony’s not here. He went to Nantucket.” She leaned up on her elbow. “So we can be as loud as we want.”
“Does that mean we can chunky-dunk, too?”
“Only if you’re very…” She kissed Kurt’s chin. “Very.” She kissed his lips. “Good.”
“That sounds like an invitation to me.” He touched his lips to hers again, intending to be far better than good. Again.
Chapter Thirty-Two
MONDAY MORNING GREETED them with sunshine, a warm breeze, and surety. Kurt felt invigorated. Alive. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that he’d made the right decision coming back to the Cape. Coming back to Leanna. He’d thought writing was everything, and he’d been so wrong that it was almost embarrassing. He had a lot to learn about life, and he looked forward to experiencing and learning it all with Leanna.
He called Jackie and scheduled a Skype meeting instead of a person-to-person meeting. Jackie told him he was the last of the holdouts, that she met with most of her clients via Skype, and not to worry about moving out of New York. It wouldn’t have mattered what she said. He’d made up his mind, and his life was with Leanna, wherever that may lead them, and at the moment it was leading them to his cottage.
They walked along the dune overlooking the beach. Leanna had on a pair of cutoff jean shorts and a white tank top, and with the morning breeze blowing her hair off of her shoulders and the sun glistening against her silky skin, she couldn’t have looked more beautiful. Wow, he’d missed her. His heart swelled with love as he took her hand and gazed deeply into her eyes.
“I want a life with you. A whole life, Leanna. Not just part-time, and not just when things are good. I want to experience your world, and I want you to experience mine. You’re my final chapter, Leanna. No revisions necessary. Live with me here, where we first met. Build a life with me.”
Her forehead wrinkled and her lower lip trembled. She trapped it between her teeth and pressed her hands to his chest. “There’s no place on earth I’d rather be.”
He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her softly; then, with Pepper at their heels, they crossed the lawn toward the studio.
“I forgot you even had a studio.”
“It’s not really a studio anymore. The renovations aren’t yet complete, but soon…” He unlocked the arched wooden door and pushed it open.
Leanna took a step inside and drew in a deep breath. She reached for Kurt’s hand as her gaze slid along the wall of custom cabinetry to their right. Blue was right; the warm bronze, beiges, and golds of the granite brought warmth to the hickory cabinets. There were still a number of cabinets to be hung, but the project was taking shape and the studio already felt homier, more like Leanna. She looked up at the exposed-beam ceiling, and finally, her eyes came to rest on the four stainless-steel ovens and stovetops that had yet to be installed, but he knew she could visualize the end result.
“Kurt,” she said barely above a whisper. “You did this for me?” She walked farther into the room, one slow step at a time.
“We met on this property, so I thought you might want a place for your business that was meaningful.”
Leanna ran her fingers along the granite countertop. She touched the fine wood finish of the cabinetry with both hands and turned damp eyes to Kurt.
“You took a big chance on me.”
He folded her in his arms. “Did I? You didn’t feel like a chance at all. You felt like fate.”
“Fate,” she whispered. Leanna pressed her hands to his chest and gazed up at him with a dreamy, loving gaze. “I can’t believe you did this.”
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. I’ve spent years living in the minds of fictional characters and wrapped up in fictional worlds. I want to spend the rest of my life wrapped up in you, Leanna Bray, living in the very real world that we create together.”
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Dreaming at Seaside
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Chapter One
BELLA ABBASCIA STRUGGLED to keep her grip on a ceramic toilet as she crossed the gravel road in Seaside, the community where she spent her summers. It was one o’clock in the morning, and Bella had a prank in store for Theresa Ottoline, a straitlaced Seaside resident and the elected property manager for the community. Bella and two of her besties, Amy Maples and Jenna Ward, had polished off two bottles of Middle Sister wine while they waited for the other cottage owners to turn in for the night. Now, dressed in their nighties and a bit tipsy, they struggled to keep their grip on a toilet that Bella had spent two days painting bright blue, planting flowers in, and adorning with seashells. They were carrying the toilet to Theresa’s driveway to break rule number fourteen of the Community Homeowners Association Guidelines: No tacky displays allowed in the front of the cottages.
“You’re sure she’s asleep?” Bella asked as they came to the grass in front of the cottage of their fourth bestie, Leanna Bray.
“Yes. She turned off her lights at eleven. We should have hidden it someplace other than my backyard. It’s so far. Can we stop for a minute? This sucker is heavy.” Amy drew her thinly manicured brows together.
“Oh, come on. Really? We only have a little ways to go.” Bella nodded toward Theresa’s driveway, which was across the road from her cottage, about a hundred feet away.
Amy glanced at Jenna for support. Jenna nodded, and the two lowered their end to the ground, causing Bella to nearly drop hers.
“That’s so much better.” Jenna tucked her stick-straight brown hair behind her ear and shook her arms out to her sides. “Not all of us lift weights for breakfast.”
“Oh, please. The most exercise I get during the summer is lifting a bottle of wine,” Bella said. “Carrying around those boobs of yours is more of a workout.”
Jenna was just under five feet tall with breasts the size of bowling balls and a tiny waist. She could have been the model for the modern-day Barbie doll, while Bella’s figure was more typical for an almost thirty-year-old woman. Although she was tall, strong, and relatively lean, she refused to give up her comfort foods, which left her a little soft in places, with a figure similar to Julia Roberts or Jennifer Lawrence.
“I don’t carry them with my arms.” Jenna looked down at her chest and cupped a breast in each hand. “But yeah, that would be great exercise.”
Amy rolled her eyes. Pin-thin and nearly flat chested, Amy was the most modest of the group, and in her long T-shirt and underwear, she looked like a teenager next to curvy Jenna. “We only need a sec, Bella.”
They turned at the sound of a passionate moan coming from Leanna’s cottage.