“It’s gorgeous. Where do you manage to find such incredible pieces?”
“Here and there,” he answered with a vague wave of his free hand while he hefted the vase in the other, making her heart clutch in her chest at the thought of him dropping it. “Do you want it or not?”
Yes. Desperately. She absolutely adored all things blue. Opening her eyes every morning to the sun filtering through that thick glass and reflecting the color on the walls of her bedroom would be like waking up in heaven. But she could never afford it. Still, letting it go wasn’t an option, either. No telling where the vase might end up, and whether its new owner would realize how precious it was or be careful to keep it from harm.
Once again, she’d have to become the temporary caretaker of a priceless piece of art to keep it from falling into someone else’s hands, at least until she could figure out how to return it to its rightful owner—along with several other pieces Eddie had brought to her over the past few months. If he ever suspected what she knew about him, and her ulterior motives for coming back to Mystic Glades, he’d disappear faster than a sandbar in high tide. And then she’d have no way to protect him or help him out of the mess he was making of his life.
“How much?” she asked, careful not to let her disappointment in him show in her voice.
He chewed his bottom lip, clearly debating how much he thought he could get. “Fifty dollars?”
She blinked in genuine surprise. He had no clue what that vase was worth. Add a couple more zeroes to the end of his fifty-dollar price and it would be much closer to the true value.
“Forty-five?” he countered, probably thinking she was shocked because the price he’d asked was too high.
Knowing that he’d expect her to bargain with him, she shook her head and played the game. “I can’t afford that, not with all the expenses of opening the inn. I just spent a small fortune at the Take or Trade to get a shipment of fresh fruit and vegetables for my guests tomorrow.” She eyed the blue vase in his hand again. “Will you take...thirty?”
The rumble of an engine had them both looking up the street to see a black muscle car of some kind heading toward them. Silver didn’t recognize it, so she assumed it was probably a tourist. But even that seemed odd, since most tourists didn’t drive here—they came by airboat, courtesy of Buddy’s new tour company. Almost no one but the residents of Mystic Glades could even find the access road off Alligator Alley.
“Thirty’s fine.” Eddie’s gaze darted between Silver and the approaching car. He tended to be shy and nervous, even around people he knew. So she could understand his trepidation around a stranger. But was there something more to it this time? He seemed more nervous than usual.
“You can pay me later. I’ll put the vase inside.” He jogged to the steps and rushed into the B and B, letting one of the stained-glass double doors slam closed behind him.
Silver winced, half-expecting the glass inset to shatter. When it didn’t, she let out a breath of relief. It had taken her weeks to design and painstakingly put together the glass in those doors. And she didn’t have the money to fix anything until her first paying customers arrived tomorrow.
Or until payment for her other job was deposited into her banking account.
She turned around as the black car pulled into one of the new parking spots she’d had paved just last week—with real asphalt instead of the dirt and gravel that dominated the rest of the town. Just one more thing to set her inn apart, a diamond in a sea of charcoal. Not that she minded charcoal. She’d made many a sketch with paper and charcoal pencil, some of which were hanging on the walls inside. But she wanted her place to sparkle, to be different, special. She’d paid, and was still paying, a hefty price for the inn. She needed everything to be perfect.
As she watched the sporty car, the driver’s door popped open and a cool-drink-of-water of a man stepped out. Silver’s concerns about Eddie faded as she appraised the driver, studying every line, every angle, appreciating every nuance the same way she would any fine piece of art. Because he was definitely a work of art.
Graphite. If she sketched him, that was what she’d use—a graphite pencil across a dazzlingly white sheet of paper. The waves in his shoulder-length, midnight-black hair would look amazing against a bright background. And that stubble that stretched up his deeply tanned jaw? She could capture that with a pointillism technique, then shade it ever so carefully to emphasize his strong bone structure.
Her fingers itched with the desire to slide over his sculpted biceps not covered by his ebony, chest-hugging T-shirt. The curves of those muscles were perfect, gorgeous, the way God meant them to be. And his lips...they were sensual, yet strong, and far too serious. She would want to draw them smiling. Otherwise, the black-and-white sketch would be too severe, intimidating. Yes, definitely smiling.
She tapped her chin and studied the narrowing of his waist where his dark T-shirt hung over his jeans. Did he have one of those sexy V’s where the abdominal muscles tapered past his hips? She’d bet he did. And his thick, muscular thighs filled out his faded jeans as if they’d been tailored—which maybe they had. A man like him, so tall and perfectly proportioned, probably couldn’t buy off-the-rack.
Scuffed brown boots peeked out from the ragged hem of his pants, making her smile. A cowboy in the Glades. That might be a fun way to draw him, maybe with a lasso thrown around that big stuffed gator Buddy had recently put in his store, Swamp Buggy Outfitters, to draw in tourists. She’d have to add a hat, of course. Or she could change those boots to snakeskin and draw him—
“Ma’am? Hello?”
She blinked and focused on his face. He must have been talking to her for a moment, but she hadn’t heard him. No surprise there. Happened all the time. He stood a few feet away, his thumbs hooked in his jeans pockets, watching her with a curious expression.
As she fully met his gaze for the first time, something inside her shifted beneath an avalanche of shock and pleasure. His eyes...they were the exact shade of cobalt blue as the vase. They were, quite simply, amazing. Beautiful. Incredibly intriguing. Her fingers twitched against her palms as if she were already grasping a pencil. Or maybe a paintbrush.
His eyes widened, and she realized she still hadn’t said anything. “Sorry, hello,” she said. “I tend to stare at people or things and zone out.”
The almost-grin that curved his sensual lips seemed to be a mix of amusement and confusion—an unfortunate combination of emotions that she was quite used to people feeling around her. When she was a child, it had hurt her feelings. As an adult, she felt like telling people to just grow up and deal with it. So she was different. So what? Everyone was different in one way or another. That was what made the world interesting.
He motioned toward the inn. “Yours?”
“Yep. You looking for a place to stay?”
“What makes you think I’m not a local?”
She laughed. “Not only are you not a local, you’ve never been here before or you’d know that was a silly question. There are only a few hundred residents in Mystic Glades. And there’s not a stranger in the bunch. We all know each other.”
“What about that young man I saw go inside a minute ago? You know him, too?”
Her smile faded. Was this one of the men Eddie was mixed up with? This man, as ruggedly gorgeous as he was—looked like the wrong crowd, dangerous even. She crossed her arms. “Why do you ask?”
He shrugged. “Just testing your theory—that you know everyone. Maybe he’s a tourist like me. Doesn’t matter.” He held