Page 29 of Halstead House

“That sounds painful.”

“It is.” I glanced over to see if I could read his tone from his facial expression, but he was looking back at me and I was too nervous to maintain the contact. I looked away quickly. “I’m sorry I yelled at you about driving your motorcycle on the bricks.” I’d been thinking it the entire drive, and it felt good to get it off my chest.

He made a sound. “No, you’re not.” I didn’t dare to respond, but I did allow a small smile to form. Okay, I wasn’tthatsorry. “What were phases one and two?” he asked.

“One was the day we saw you and Marshall on the beach. She tells me the lesson there was spontaneity.”

“Phase two?”

I nearly grinned at the memory. “She took me to some blockbuster action film in Corpus Christi.”

Lucas’s face remained mostly passive, but one eyebrow furrowed. “An action show?”

“Yes. Guns blazing and muscles flexing. I don’t think anyone spoke below a yell. The lesson in that was to try new things.”

“Huh.”

“It turned out to be really interesting and entertaining.” Warmth spread in my chest at the memory of mocking the movie and trying to suppress our laughter.

Ana had disappeared into a shop three more doors down, and I amazed myself by finding a way to talk lightly and casually with Lucas until we caught up. It wasn’t painless and he didn’t give a lot back, but he wasn’t rude and I was relieved to feel an easing of the tension between us—at least on my part. I couldn’t speak for him.

As the unease flowed out, I was able to think more logically. In fact, I told myself, it was natural to feel tingly around Lucas. He was handsome and confident, yes. Even more than that, though, he was in some ways the Prince Charming of my childhood fairy tales. Mary had wanted so desperately for us to meet and had inadvertently built Lucas up on a pedestal. Now that I was finally meeting him, it would make sense that I’d be excited and a little emotional about the entire thing. I was a late bloomer when it came to interactions with the opposite gender. The feelings would settle.

We spent the afternoon walking on tilted sidewalks, entering stores with colorful clothing, touristy items, strange smells, and so much variety in music that my ears were downright exhausted by the time dinner rolled around. Ana’s prediction about Lucas waiting at sidewalk tables and benches had proven true. He’d only entered one or two stores himself, but mostly waited as we shopped. He’d been the epitome of patience, never showing any frustration at idling away the hours. Then again, I doubted it had been a trial for him as I’d noticed several people stopping to visit with him along the way. He was clearly a well-known figure on the island.

By the time we headed back to Halstead House I had managed to get a few items of new clothing that I was excited about, a few souvenir items that would look lovely in my condo, and best of all I had spent yet another day doing friend things with Ana. Even having Lucas along hadn’t ruined the afternoon. Only one month earlier I’d never have dared hope for those simple things. Gratitude filled my heart as I put my purchases away, serenaded by calls of pelicans outside my window.

CHAPTER 9

With all the new experiences that had been thrown my way lately, it hardly seemed possibly that there would be room for another, but today I was directing Marshall’s hired trio of workers in arranging the dining room, ballroom, and formal front parlor for the wedding that would happen in two days. While Ana and her day staff could usually handle event setup, a wedding brought on enough extra work that Marshall got a staff of his own to direct. One of those men, Jonathan, was someone—or something—I had never seen coming.

As I said before, my experience with men was limited. They either took one look at my stiff posture and no-nonsense demeanor, or gave up after one stilted attempt at conversation, deciding rather quickly that I wouldn’t be worth the effort. I couldn’t blame them. Even I grew frustrated with myself.

However, thanks to Ana’s encouragement—or, to be precise, verbal threats—I had shed yet another layer of my old self and was currently wearing jeans and a top that had no buttons. When I’d reported to the main floor of the house that morning, I’d actually felt a little embarrassed about it. While I understood that this casual clothing made sense for the activities of lifting, moving, and decorating that I’d be doing all day... well... I hadn’t worn jeans since graduating from high school nearly eight years before. Not even around my condo on the weekends. Ana had whistled and clapped when I’d entered the kitchen for breakfast.

“The transformation is stunning,” she’d cheered. “Tomorrow I expect to see your hair down.”

I’d blushed and pulled a face. “Baby steps, Ana.”

Ana had picked up on my discomfort and said nothing in reply. I was surprised but grateful. Bubbly, cheerful, confident Ana could have no real idea of what it was costing me to transform myself. A part of me wanted to crawl back into the cocoon—no matter how dark it had been in there.

After breakfast I’d followed Marshall to the front of the house to meet his crew, feeling self-conscious about how the jeans hugged my legs. Yes, I did occasionally wear a pencil skirt that fit snuggly, and I understood that skirts didn’t always cover my legs from the knee down, yet the pants felt different somehow.

I’d walked with Marshall, my mind focused on trying to remember all the arguments Ana had made while insisting that skinny jeans were in. The sales people had, predictably, agreed with Ana. Big surprise there. Lucas’s opinion had not been asked.

Eventually Marshall and I had reached the front porch, where his temporary crew was waiting. Jonathan had given me a slow, interested perusal when Marshall had introduced me to the three men who would be assisting us. My eyes had widened, but I’d managed to remain passive.

After that introduction, Jonathan had been everywhere I turned. He would smile or nod at me each time we made eye contact. Nothing inappropriate or creepy, just making sure I knew that he was aware of me. Eventually the blushes had broken through, and they hadn’t stopped in over an hour.

Now I was leading the way as Jonathan and Marshall each carried one end of a table that would be moved to the side of the dining room as a serving area.

“Where are you from, Grace?” Jonathan asked, speaking directly to me for the first time as we entered the large room.

“Where Grace is from isn’t something you need to be worried about,” Marshall warned grumpily.

“I’m curious, that’s all.” Jonathan shrugged and sent me that easy smile of his when Marshall wasn’t looking.

His chin-length mahogany hair was slightly wavy and tucked behind each ear, his build lean, his skin sun-bronzed and his eyes as blue as the sky. He wasn’t traditionally handsome, but he was appealing and charmingly confident, and just about everything I would have steered clear of in the past.

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