Page 8 of Valentine On Palmar Island

"Maybe." He returned her smile, aware of how close they still were. "Or maybe I like having someone to share them with."

Something soft and warm pressed against his leg. Milo had woken up and wedged himself between their chairs, his chin resting on Grant's knee.

"Traitor," Charlotte laughed, but there was warmth in her voice.

"He's got good taste." Grant scratched behind the dog's ears. "You know, sometimes I wonder if I've gone too far the other way."

"What do you mean?"

"Staying here, preserving everything exactly as it was. Sometimes I worry I'm so focused on protecting the past that I'm not building anything new." The words surprised him. He hadn't meant to be quite so honest.

Charlotte's hand found his forearm, her touch light but steady. "You are building something. Every building you restore, every story you save matters." Her fingers were warm through his sleeve. "And you share it all so freely. Like that rice plantation you mentioned the other day. The one with the small chapel."

"Indigo Bluff?" Grant felt a smile tug at his lips. "The chapel was one of my first solo projects. Probably why it means so much to me."

"Tell me about it?"

So he did. He told her about the tiny chapel with its hand-carved pews and stained glass windows, how he'd spent months restoring the intricate woodwork. How sometimes, when a project felt overwhelming, he'd go there just to sit and think.

"I'd love to see it," Charlotte said softly when he finished.

"I could take you." The words came out before he could second-guess them. "Tomorrow, maybe? The light's best in the afternoon."

"I'd like that." She smiled, and Grant noticed a dimple he hadn't seen before.

The coffeeshop had grown darker while they talked, the winter sun setting early. Charlotte gathered her things while Grant helped Milo into his jacket—a purchase that had amused him when he first saw it, but made sense given the cold snap.

At the door, Charlotte turned to him. "Thank you. For sharing all that."

"Thank you for listening." He held the door, and she passed close enough that he caught that floral scent again.

Walking to his truck later, Grant realized something that should have worried him. He was falling for her. Not just her beauty or her talent, but her curiosity, her gentle questions, the way she saw his island through new eyes while understanding what made it special.

The thought should have scared him. Instead, it felt like coming home.

Chapter Five

Charlotte pulled up to Indigo Bluff Plantation, where Grant's truck was already parked beneath a canopy of bare oak branches. The January sun hung low in the afternoon sky, casting long shadows across the grounds. Milo's tail thumped against the passenger seat as he spotted Grant leaning against his truck.

From this elevation, she could see why they'd chosen this spot for the main house. The bluff overlooked acres of dormant rice fields that stretched to the water's edge, the geometric patterns of the old irrigation systems still visible in the winter light.

She grabbed her camera bag, and Milo bounded out ahead of her, making a beeline for Grant. The plantation house rose behind him. It was a grand antebellum structure with white columns and wrap-around porches that took full advantage of the elevated view.

"Perfect timing," Grant said as she approached. "Light's just right."

He'd dressed up a bit, she noticed. Dark jeans instead of his usual work pants, and a blue sweater that made his eyes look even deeper. Not that she was paying attention to such things.

"This is incredible," she breathed, taking in the scope of the property. Even in winter, it held a haunting beauty. The bare trees were draped with Spanish moss, their branches creating intricate patterns against the pale sky.

"The original owners grew both rice and indigo here," Grant explained as they started up the main drive. "That's how it got its name. They used the bluff for indigo processing, and the lower grounds for rice cultivation. The elevation helped protect the house during storm surges."

"Smart planning."

"Wait till you see the gardens." Grant gestured for her to follow. "The winter roses are blooming early this year. They're not original to Indigo Bluff, but they were planted in the 1920s when the Murray family restored the property."

They walked along a brick path, their shoulders occasionally brushing. Grant's voice took on that tone she'd come to recognize. The one that meant he was sharing something he truly cared about.

"This was one of the largest rice plantations in the area," he explained. "The family who built it... well, it's a complicated history. Beauty and struggle all wrapped up together. We've tried to preserve it in a way that honors all the stories, not just the pretty ones."

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