Page 4 of Hargrave Artistry
“And if I already know how to sail?”
“Bonus points for you.” She grinned. “Do you golf?”
His eyebrows lifted. “Brookwell has a golf course?”
“No, not at all.” She chuckled. “But there are some great ones close by. I’d recommend driving on your own instead of taking the ferry, if golf is your thing. There isn’t an easy way to get from the downtown ferry landing out to the golf courses. Unless you ride share,” she allowed with a shrug.
“You really do know the area,” he said.
“My family summered here when I was a kid. Now we run a B&B over that way,” she flapped her hand in the general direction of the Hideaway. “Part of the job is directing guests to all the local fun spots.”
“Sounds like you’re a pretty busy artist-in-residence.”
“Doesn’t everyone need a side hustle?” She laughed, silently hoping he didn’t ask which venture was her side hustle. Though the answer should’ve been easy, it wasn’t. She was finding inspiration with all her roles these days. Which was actually a good thing.
They reached the end of the walkway and she stopped, suddenly uncertain what to do with this handsome, friendly stranger.
“Which way to the Bread Basket?” he asked. “Assuming you’re done scavenging.”
“I can be done for today,” she said. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have plenty of material back at the house. “The Bread Basket is pretty much in the middle of town, on Central Avenue.”
“I’ve noticed the highly creative naming conventions.”
“Hey, don’t blame that on me,” she said. “I would’ve chosen something far more informative.”
“Such as?” he prompted.
“Strudel Street,” she decided on the spot. The low rumble of his laughter stirred her senses. A bit breathless, she diverted her attention in a hurry, studying the odd contents in her tote.
“Do you have time to get a coffee?” he queried.
“Maybe.” She hooked her elbow through the tote. “One condition,” she said as they started up the long boardwalk, toward the grassy area that separated the docks from the row of shops.
“Name it,” he said with way too much confidence.
“Exactly.” When he frowned a little, she clarified, “Tell meyourname?”
“Oh. Did I leave that out?”
“You did.” She waited a beat, but he didn’t respond. “And you still are.”
A smile lit up his face, sparkling in his eyes. She would’ve sworn there were golden stars in that hazel gaze. “Whoops. Hello, Natalie. I’m Trent.” He extended his hand one more time.
She took it, conducting another quick inventory of the man and his easygoing manner. They both had calluses, begging the question of how he’d earned his. The strength simmering in his grip sent a thrilling little shiver through her system. Either he was special or she needed to dive back into the dating pool, as soon as possible.
“Pleased to meet you, Trent. The man with a couple days off to indulge in morning walks along sparsely populated docks.”
“That about covers it.”
She was mildly disappointed that he didn’t share more. Maybe he was saving the details for a chat over coffee.
“You need more information?”
“Hmm.” She pretended to give that some thought. “You are a stranger. I guess we can drill right down to it. Are you an axe-murderer?”
“Not a chance. Too messy.”
His humor resonated with her. He had a soft and friendly vibe she enjoyed. “Why visit Brookwell?”
