Page 13 of The Summer Fling
Her arms tighten around me. "Maybe I was just really grateful."
"Yeah? What are you going to do when I show you the best view on the island?"
"Guess we'll find out."
Ten minutes later, I pull off the main road onto a narrow path that winds up through the trees. The Vespa bounces over roots and rocks, and Hannah's grip on me tightens with every bump.
"Please tell me this leads somewhere that isn't a ravine," she says. "And please promise me you won't sacrifice me to the local gods."
"Just trust me."
"Famous last words. Also, you didn't say no."
We break through the tree line, and the path opens onto a clifftop overlook, and Hannah goes quiet behind me. I cut theengine. She climbs off, walking to the edge where the whole island spreads out below us—beaches and coves, the town clustered around the harbor,Shore Thinga tiny speck on the far beach.
Hannah's hands fly to her mouth, her eyes wide. "Holy shit."
"Language," I say, coming up beside her.
"This is incredible. How did you find this place?"
"Got lost on a hike about six years ago. Ended up here by accident." I point toward the harbor. "See that cluster of buildings by the water? That's downtown, such as it is. Population: three hundred and twelve."
"Three hundred and twelve exactly?"
"Addie Patterson had twins last month. I'm still adjusting to the new math."
"What about before the island? Where did you come from originally?"
"Mainland. Different life." I lean against a boulder, studying her profile as she takes in the view. How is it possible that she's even more beautiful today than yesterday? "Nothing interesting. What about you? Besides the accounting that's slowly killing your soul."
"God, did I really say it like that?" She covers her face with her hands. "I sound like such a cliché."
"You sound honest."
She drops her hands, looking at me sideways. "I used to paint. Watercolors, mostly. Haven't touched a brush in two years."
"Why not?"
"No time. No space. No ... I don't know. No point, I guess." She shrugs. "Before I got sucked into the corporate machine, I divided my time between work and painting. My grandparents, who raised me, by the way, were so proud. I mean,are,as in present tense. They still have my paintings around their house."
"What if you try again?"
"Easy for you to say."
"You're on an island that's basically one giant watercolor. Light changes every five minutes. If you can't find inspiration here, you're not looking."
She studies me for a long moment, something shifting in her expression. "You're kind of intense, you know that?"
"You're kind of talented, you know that?"
"How would you know? You've never seen my work."
"Then show me... when you're ready." I push off the boulder. "Come on. There's more to see."
She follows me back to the Vespa, but before she climbs on, she stops and looks back at the view one more time.
"Thank you," she says quietly. "For showing me this."
