Page 86 of The Oscar Escape
“What about Mr. Paige-Grant?”
“You could call me whatever you want.”
She bit back a grin. “Mr. Lobster Panty-Lover?”
Oscar studied her face like only an artist could. Like he could see her future. “Stay like that, Aria.”
“Like what?”
“Hey, Del?” he called. “Would you take a picture of Aria and me?”
“You got it,” the man replied, taking the camera.
What was going on?
She smiled for the photo, then felt Oscar’s breath against the shell of her ear.
“Aria?” he purred.
Her heart skipped a beat. “Yes?”
“I don’t care what you call me as long as I can call you mine.”
She turned toward him and did the only thing she could do in that sweet escape of a moment.
She pressed her lips to his and kissed the man.
Click.
Chapter16
OSCAR
Oscar downed the last lukewarm sip of what had to have been his twentieth cup of coffee. He peered at his laptop’s screen, evaluating the final few seconds of a video that had the power to make or break their Love and Lobsters Festival PR strategy.
Ping!
And speaking of make or break, he checked his watch. Thatpingcould be the text he’d been waiting for. “Where the hell is my phone?” he murmured, then spied his cell sandwiched between a few sheets of paper. He plucked the device from the smattering of notes marked with slashes of pink highlighter and exhaled a tight breath. “Come on, Havenmatch Island. Keep the magic coming.”
If this text said what he’d hoped it would, it could be the answer to their prayers.
He pressed his finger against the phone’s touchscreen, scrolling and skimming the message. His eyes widened, and a relieved, triumphant smile spread across his face. “Yes!” he rejoiced softly. But he didn’t need to whisper. Surrounded by a sea of cords, recording equipment, cameras, and of course, his laptop, the table he’d been camped out at for the better part of the last twenty-four hours was in the heart of the action and a stone’s throw from the woman who’d set this mad dash to save the island in motion.
The schoolhouse, which he’d learned had once doubled as the island’s performing arts center, was awash in sound. He eyed the stage packed with musicians. Seated in a semi-circle, senior citizens holding instruments thumbed through sheet music and belted out melodic ascending and descending scales. The see-saw sounds of the violins, cellos, and violas overlapped with the trills of airy woodwinds and the dynamic rise and fall of crisply placed piano notes.
And these weren’t just any musicians clustered on the stage.
Over the last twenty-four hours, he and Aria had learned that, in addition to Niles, Nadia, and Roberta, many of the island’s retired residents had played for acclaimed symphonies and orchestras across the world. And there was more. Havenmatch Island was also the home to accomplished painters, gifted jewelry makers, and award-winning chefs. The amount of knowledge and arts experience on this slim slip of land was astounding. Their gifts could inspire and guide a new generation of artists and musicians. It was criminal that the collective talents of these individuals had gone unnoticed. Luckily, he and Aria were about to remedy that situation with a little help from one of his former colleagues—hopefully.
But they didn’t have much time.
He spied another coffee mug on the table. He’d need all the get-up-and-go he could muster. He swallowed the cold caffeinated contents, glanced at his cell to confirm his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him, then took a second to absorb what they’d done.
It was safe to say the last twenty-four hours—well, more like twenty-seven hours and thirty-six minutes—had been an absolute whirlwind.
The second they’d returned to the dock with their one-in-a-hundred-million lobster in tow, he’d looked at Aria. With the islanders cheering for the cotton candy crustacean and for the crew that discovered the creature, he could tell by the glint in her eyes that they were on the same page when it came to crafting a promotion strategy.
Celebrate Clawdia Junior’s historic discovery while highlighting the islanders’ artistic talents.
